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reysdriver · 6 months

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Exit Stage Right | R.L

You and your daughter miss Remus while he's performing for a stadium of fans, so much that you have to see him before the concert is over — dad!rockstar!remus x mom!reader fluff

warnings: a little angsty if you squint rlly hard, but nothing else

words: 2.4k

a/n: I promised rockstar!remus a while ago, but I've been to 2 concerts in the last 2 weeks, which just so happens to be finals season, so I've been simultaneously busy as hell and itching to write this. I hope you like how it turned out!

Your daughter Olive was no stranger to loud noises.

Remus had a room to practise drumming in your house, it’s normal to encounter a chaotic mess of fans and paparazzi when you left the house as a family, and she just about had the loudest uncles in the world. Though you tried to limit the amount of noise she took in, Olive’s little ears had definitely adapted to her hectic little life.

But all that noise in her daily life was no match for a rock concert in a sold-out stadium. Those decibel levels would for sure be far too high for her little ears to handle.

It wasn’t as easy of a decision on what you should do with her tonight, though. You were getting cabin fever with all the identical hotel rooms you’ve been living in while The Marauders were on their tour, and you suspected Olive was in the same boat.

So, you decided to go back to the old days when the band first started going on long tours, when you would stay in the dressing room for the length of the performance. You and Remus figured it would be soundproof enough backstage, but you still insisted on pulling out the baby headphones you had bought just in case before she was even born. You were only planning on using them if it got especially loud backstage, yet you tried them on anyway.

They were massive on her, but they kept her safe and happy. Plus, she was pretty damn adorable with them on—not that she wasn’t all the time, but definitely cuter than normal with those giant headphones.

Waiting for the show to start, Remus bounced Olive on his lap while you watched the rest of the guys run through their current individual pre-show rituals.

It had been quite a while since you’ve been backstage with the band right before a show, and you honestly forgot how entertaining it was.

James was trying to solve the same Rubik’s cube he’s been working on for years to warm up his fingers, Peter was doing the daily crossword in the local newspaper, and Sirius was trying to multitask by doing his vocal warmups and his makeup at the same time.

It was really a terrible combination of tasks, as Sirius kept on messing up his eyeliner and then trying to suppress his favourite swear words for your daughter’s sake.

You wanted to tell him off, but it was really too fun to watch for you to intervene.

A minute or so after Sirius finally finished his look, the boys’ manager knocked on the dressing room door and reminded them that they have to go on stage soon.

Remus thanked him, and the guys all started getting ready to go. He kept Olive in his arms for as long as he could, until it was just the three of you in the room after everyone was already headed to the stage.

When he finally had to let her go, Remus made sure he gave you both a proper goodbye.

“I’ll be back soon. Just over 2 hours, then we can all go home.” He kissed you softly, but deeply. He always does this as a way of saying goodbye, kissing you like he might never do it again, but he doesn’t want you to think about it.

When his lips left yours and he slouched down to blow a raspberry on Olive’s tummy, you sighed quietly. “A hotel, not home.”

He looked at you sympathetically as he collected his drumsticks from the table beside you and stored them in his back pocket for the time being.

“Isn’t home anywhere where we’re all together?” He said, trying to lift your spirits. “But we’ll be home home soon enough. And I won’t be on tour again for a while, and we can be all together as much as we want.”

That did make you feel better. Even though you loved that Remus was living his dream with his best friends and giving you and Olive a great life, it did get stressful from time to time.

Privacy violations by paparazzi and media outlets, insecurity that sometimes got the best of you on both sides of the relationship, and of course, The Marauders going on world tours that were fun, but still somewhat torture. They made it so you had to choose between leaving home for months, or being away from Remus—not that there was any difference between those two.

You didn’t want to get emotional right when Remus had to go perform, so you smiled and reminded him that it was time for you to part ways for the evening.

“They’re waiting for you out there.”

A grin graced your husband’s face. “They can wait a little longer.”

“They paid to see you.” You reminded him.

“And I'll personally refund all of them if I don't go out.”

“Then we'll be out of money, and we'll both have to get new jobs and we'll never have any time with just the three of us.”

Remus pretended to think over your point for a second. “You’re right. I guess I have to go out and perform, then.”

“Put on a good show, honey. We'll see you soon.”

While saying goodbye to him, you raised Olive’s arm so you could wave at Remus for her as he walked out of the dressing room. Her face was already forming a pout when she watched her dad leave to go do his job, but you wouldn’t let that morph into anything more.

You turned her around so you could both look at each other, then you pressed a kiss to her chubby cheek.

“None of that, sweetheart. We’ll see him again in no time.”

Laying her down beside you on the couch, you reach down into the baby bag you never go anywhere without and pick out some of her favourite toys from their specific pocket; hopefully those will keep her distracted and happy.

◆◇◆◇◆

The toys didn’t work as well as you thought they would. They kept Olive busy for about an hour, but she seemed to snap out of her happy baby daze out of nowhere.

She started crying and nothing was working to calm her down. She wasn’t hungry, she didn’t need to be changed, and nothing you had brought for this very reason was working.

You knew the only thing that could quell her upset was outside and on the stage, playing drums for a stadium of fans. But even though she and Remus both wished they could spend all hours of the day together, you just didn’t know how that could work.

And then you remembered the headphones.

The sound backstage hadn’t been that loud at all while The Marauders were playing, so you honestly hadn’t thought about them since you and Remus packed them before you left the hotel.

But this could work. You could use them to help both you and Olive right now. So that’s what you did.

You dug through your bag and pulled the noise-cancelling headphones from the bottom of the bag, where they had sat untouched for the longest time. After picking them up with a tiny ‘aha’, you smiled at your daughter and told her that she would soon be seeing her dad.

She had calmed down somewhat due to the mere mention of Remus, but she was still wailing in your arms. You bounced her lightly while you walked down the halls of the stadium.

“It’s okay, honey.” You cooed at Olive, despite the fact that she couldn’t hear a thing. “You’re gonna tire yourself out and fall asleep before you even get to see Daddy. We don’t want that, do we?”

Although, maybe her crying herself to sleep wouldn’t be so bad.

It still wasn’t an option in your mind. Your daughter wanted to see her dad, so over to Remus you’ll go.

Once you got to the stage door, a burly security guard gave you a questioning look. You supposed he wasn’t used to a woman and a baby wanting to go into the wings during a rock concert. But he was just there to do his job, not judge, so he let you through when you showed him your ID.

You kept checking Olive’s face to see her expressions and gauge if everything was too loud for her. Her look didn’t deviate from the bothered expression her face took on when you started walking with her, so you assumed the headphones were cancelling out the noise, just as they were made for.

Nobody who was working backstage seemed to mind you being there, so you found an extra stool in a dark corner and pulled it so you could sit and watch the band.

Based just on how Olive was moving in your arms, you knew she had spotted her dad behind the cymbals he was smashing across the stage. Pointing towards Remus, you whispered to her again even though she couldn’t hear you. “Look! Who’s that? Who’s over there?”

She seemed to be cheered up enough just from seeing Remus, so your hypothesis was proven correct. Things were shaping up to be a good night.

You swayed and headbanged—as lightly as possible—since just because Olive couldn’t enjoy the loud music doesn’t mean you had to ignore it too.

The current song ended, and James was talking to the crowd while Sirius drank some much-needed water after all that singing. While taking a swig, the two familiar faces in the wings of the stage caught his eye, and he just had to share what he was seeing with the drummer.

He practically skipped over to Remus, who was also catching his breath from performing and pointed you out. Your husband’s eyes scanned the area until he found you, and his face immediately broke out into a smile—and so did your daughter’s.

Back in the dressing room, you were hesitant if you should leave at all or if you should just wait out Olive’s tantrum, but the matching looks on your husband and daughter’s faces right now was proof that you made the right decision.

Olive made grabby hands towards her dad across the stage, and Remus waved right back and blew a kiss in your direction. You weren’t quite sure if it was aimed at you or your little girl, but it made you blush either way.

He pointed to the setlist taped to the ground beside him and hid his hand behind his bass drum so the audience wouldn’t see his gesture; he held up three fingers to let you know there would be three more songs until he could get up and give you two his full attention. You knew they would most definitely be doing an encore after they finished, but at least they could all have a small break after the main show.

You nodded to show him you understood, but his attention was already grabbed back by James giving him the sign that it was time to get back into the music. Not even taking more than a second to prepare, Remus was back in the groove and started playing the next song on the list, effortlessly and perfectly.

The last few songs of the main set were some of your favourites from the band’s discography, but you had to admit that you couldn’t enjoy them as much as you usually would.

It was mainly because you were somewhat scared of an impending mood swing out of your daughter now that her father’s attention had left her, but also because these three songs were standing in between you and your husband like a brick wall right now. You just had to remind yourself that once they hit that last note and said their goodbyes to the crowd, that wall would be temporarily smashed once more.

But now, they were at the end of the concert. The crowd was cheering like they just had the best night of their lives—you don’t doubt that they did—and Remus was throwing his sticks into the sea of hands desperate for a morsel of The Marauders.

His rockstar persona was dropped the second those drumsticks left his hands, and he was rushing to the wings to be with you and Olive, a wide smile strung across his cheeks.

He pulled you two out into the hall so the crowd’s noise could be in the background. He knew they would be cheering for an encore in a minute; as much as he loved that sound, he would rather hear you.

“She was getting pretty fussy and I knew you were the only thing that would calm her down.” You explained to Remus before he could even ask.

You were afraid he would be upset with you bringing her outside of the dressing room, but he didn’t seem fazed at all. He gently took Olive from your arms and cooed over her.

“You missed me so much you dragged your mum out here so you could see me, huh?” Remus asked her. “You know I missed you too, princess. Both of you.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should get the guys to shorten the setlist so you aren’t away from us for too long, then.”

He didn’t respond, but you know that he had brought up the idea of shorter tours to the others now that he and James were both fathers.

You watched lovingly as Remus kept moving Olive’s hand away from the glitter on his face that she was so desirous to touch. You wished you all could stay in this moment forever, but the audience’s chants for an encore were getting louder and louder and you knew the scene in front of you couldn’t last much longer.

Right on schedule, James strutted up and tapped Remus on the shoulder with a brand new pair of drumsticks.

“We’ve gotta go back out there, mate. Time to part ways with your girls once again.”

Remus wouldn’t put up a fight. He handed Olive back to you and blew one more kiss at you two as a goodbye.

The doors opened and a cacophony of fan cheers hit your ears. It was a lot, but it just reminded you that all those people were waiting for your husband, so you could wait a few more minutes.

Just two final songs, then you could all go home.

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jayflrt · 2 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 44. dangerous entanglements

content warnings: smut, dirty talk, lots of teasing, praise, fingering, oral (m. receiving), oral (f. receiving)

YOUR FATHER WAS A GREAT MAN.

You knew he had his faults, like any other parent, you supposed. Maybe sometimes you felt pressured by the expectations that weighed on your shoulders, but your dad deserved some credit for consistently making an effort for your sake.

For your fifth grade promotion, it was your dad in the very front row, beaming brightly with his camera even though your mother was nowhere to be seen. It was your dad that attended each and every single science fair and spelling bee that you participated in, and even if you didn’t win first place, he would celebrate each one. It was your dad that helped you pick out clothes for your first date, which you were extremely nervous about and ended up swatching three different eye shadow palettes on his arm.

It was perhaps the lack of effort from the parents around you that made you appreciate your father just a little more. You were well aware that Sunghoon’s parents weren’t the same; they hadn’t even sent flowers for his graduation. The only time they celebrated his accomplishments was for events where they could use publicity to their advantage.

So who were you to complain about your path being carved for you when it had been so generously laid out at your feet? How could you protest when you were promised realities that few could only dream of?

Maybe dreams were just dreams. Foolish idealizations that you were meant to bury under the sand and forget about. When it came to your purpose, a dream was worthless. That was why you pushed it down your whole life, suppressing every selfish desire until it curled around your ribs and made it hard to breathe.

And you supposed that Jay was the one who left you vulnerable enough to slip back into those dangerous dreams.

But things were different now. Sure, your dad hadn’t yet accepted the future you wanted for yourself, and you were far too scared to confront him about it, but he had already given you freedom for the summer. You just had to get him to warm up to the idea, that was all.

When he called you to his study, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe he would talk about the ceremony for Sungjin, or maybe he would tell you about how golfing went. Regardless, you were itching to ask him what he thought about Jay; it was his approval that you sought out the most, after all.

As soon as you walked inside, your dad glanced up and closed the folder he was reading from. You were greeted with a warm smile. You realized you were still by the door, twiddling with your fingers before walking over to his desk.

“Is Jay settled in the guest bedroom yet?” he asked. “You should bring him an extra blanket. I heard it gets cold in there.”

He was asking about Jay out of his own accord. That had to be a good thing, right? You were afraid that your dad wouldn’t think Jay met up to a certain socio-economic level that he expected, but you had hope that Jay’s personality would blow all of that out of the water.

“Yeah, he said it’s great. I’ll—”

“Did you bring your notebook?”

An all-too-familiar chill traveled down your spine. You placed the moleskine notebook on the desk, as he requested, and you sat at the chair across from him. None of your memories associated with this notebook were fond, and you attributed most of your bad memories with your father to the very object.

You were given the notebook at a very young age. The instructions were quite clear; all you had to do was jot down whatever your father asked you to, follow it religiously, and never lose the book.

It was a strange practice, but you never complained. Something about writing down information to remember it better, but you weren't quite convinced that was the whole reason. It felt more to do with your father wanting to feel as if he had some control over your life, like the notebook was his tool to set you on the right path.

Initially, it was simply a resource for you. At a young age, you often struggled with social anxiety whenever you were dragged along to some upper crust event. The notebook was a gift from your father after hours of being scolded by your mother for your shy behavior and awkward responses. He provided pages of generated responses for you to practice and certain important names you had to remember. It was helpful in the beginning.

Then, he added more to it. You suddenly had a section of people to avoid, people who were of no value to you. There were only a few names there at first—people who had gotten involved in scandals, people who had the intent to scam, people who had a bad reputation—but then your father had you write in a name that threw you for a loop.

Kim Sunoo.

It was around high school when you started feeling worse about the notebook. You were always encouraged to associate with Park Sunghoon, so your dad was naturally pleased by your growing friendship with him, but when he found out that Heeseung was part of your group, you had to walk around with the guilt of writing your dear friend down as someone who was meaningless to your future. Expendable.

“Now, I have some edits I’d like you to add in.” He paused to adjust the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Do you have a pen?”

You begrudgingly grabbed a ballpoint pen from his pencil holder. “Ready.”

The first few names mentioned were from the Order. (Stay close to Song Eunseok—his parents are government officials; be on good terms with Ning Yizhuo—her dad owns a steel company; be friendly but don’t worry much about Shin Ryujin—her dad’s a casino owner.) He always gave you some rundown about their families, how they’d prove to be useful connections, and then you would have to just trust your father’s judgment. There was never room for you to go against his words.

Then, he pushed a piece of paper in front of you.

Your heart sank.

Jay Park: Rebound from Sunghoon. Temporary fun. Won’t last past graduation.

There was something furious inside you, and it sank its icy jaws right into your heart. You felt your blood pumping, drumming in your ears so violently that you almost couldn’t catch him telling you to copy the words into your notebook.

You stared unblinkingly at the words, horrified. “I thought you liked Jay.”

“I do,” your dad insisted with an earnest nod. “He has a bright future ahead of him, and we had a great game—though I think he could practice his swing—but just because I like him doesn’t mean he’s anything more than a friend to you.”

You spluttered, outraged. “More than a—what?”

“Y/N, I don’t want this to upset you, but guys like Jay might seem fun and exciting at first, but you and him are from completely different worlds. He’s not gonna mesh well in our world.” He spoke to you in a gentle yet firm voice, but there was a condescending undertone that made your skin crawl. “You don’t see it now, but you’re gonna do great things in the future, and you need to be with someone who can match your standard.”

You knew he was hinting at Sunghoon. Your father took the news of your breakup strangely well, but you were certain that he thought you and your ex-boyfriend were simply on a break. Yours and Sunghoon’s family had constantly pushed for you two to get together from a young age; it was almost as if you two were destined to be together, but now it was clear to you that he just happened to be from an accomplished family.

But what on Earth was your dad spewing about Jay? He often spoke about your feelings on your behalf, but he never genuinely tried to understand how you were feeling.

“Dad, it’s not like that,” you tried, meeker than you had hoped. “I really want this to work out, like, I think I finally found someone who makes me feel the way you do about mom.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you realized that it probably wasn’t the most ideal comparison. Your stomach only sank deeper when you saw your father’s eyes harden, clouding over with some unrecognizable emotion that made you falter.

“And look how that turned out,” he said sadly, hardly louder than your voice had been.

You overstepped.

It was as if that rage inside of you subdued at once. It shriveled back immediately, and you tried to reason with yourself.

It wasn’t anything to worry over. Your notebook was only for your eyes, so writing empty words wouldn’t do any harm. It wasn’t like your father’s mind couldn’t be swayed; you managed to convince him to take you off of the Mercy Health internship, so you could definitely get him to warm up to Jay. They seemed to get along well, after all, so it wouldn’t be an impossible feat.

So, you gritted your teeth and copied down his dreadful text word-for-word. This time, you weren’t quite sure if this was all worth your father’s smile of approval.

Your meeting with your father sapped all of the energy right out of you. You dragged your feet all the way up to your room before remembering that you were supposed to bring Jay an extra blanket.

And, never mind that, you were also supposed to have a very important talk with him. This was something you had actually been anticipating, too, because he was the one who offered to have a discussion. You felt like you were floating high up in the clouds throughout the day until you spoke with your father.

As you made your way down the hall, your heart raced. Deep down, you knew that nothing felt right about keeping this from him. You needed to tell Jay, but then wouldn’t he resent your father and steer clear from you? You couldn’t screw this up before it even started.

Jay opened the door only seconds after you knocked. He was wearing the suit he was planning to interview in, and you remembered him mentioning that he wanted to tailor the parts that didn’t fit as well himself. Immediately, the nonchalant façade you were trying to put up had shattered at your feet, and your throat felt thick with emotion. He gingerly took the blanket before gesturing for you to come inside.

“Your guest bedroom’s huge,” he started after closing the door. “This is bigger than my—” Jay stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed you wiping at the corners of your eyes. Sincerity dripped from his tongue, like honey. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You had been trying your hardest to bottle up how you felt, but you always happened to wear your emotions on your sleeve around him.

“Come on, what’s wrong?” he pressed again, this time craning his neck lower so that he could make eye contact with you. As much as you tried to avoid his gaze, Jay just took your forearms gently and turned you to face him. “You can talk to me.”

You weren’t going to tell him. You couldn’t. He would just pull away from you again, and you didn’t want him to slip from your fingers.

Somehow, you always felt so anxious about him leaving you. It almost felt like it would be inevitable; the closer you got to him, the harder you had to hold on to keep him by your side. The discussion with your father only cemented that fear—the kind of fear that got deep inside your skin and dug a grave.

“No, I’m always crying around you. It’s embarrassing.” You used your sleeve to wipe your eyes. “I was crying the first time we met, too.”

The corner of Jay’s mouth picked up in a grin, and he simply brought his hands to your face so that he could wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “It’s not because of me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he pulled back to catch your expression, eyes wide with shock. “It’s because of me?”

“Not completely,” you tried, but Jay was already taking a seat at the edge of the mattress and letting his head hang, as if he was reflecting on his past actions. “I just”—you took a few steps closer to him until you were standing between his legs—“feel like you’re not really here sometimes.”

His calloused hands gently held the back of your knees as he looked up at you. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like we feel the same way about each other, and I feel like there’s something there, but you always pull me in and push me away whenever we get too close,” you said. It was honestly shocking that you were even able to frame the words that you couldn’t even string together in your head. “What is it about me that’s making you hesitate?”

Jay swallowed thickly. For a moment, he just stared at you, unblinking, and you were afraid that he was going to run away from you again. Then, he slid his hands up to the back of your thighs and pulled you down to straddle his lap. Your cheeks heated up when you remembered being in that exact position in your hotel room in Monaco.

“It’s not really something I can explain right now,” he murmured. “I just—the person I am right now isn’t ready to be the person you need me to be, but it feels impossible to stay away from you.”

“I don’t need you to be anyone but yourself,” you insisted. With a frustrated sigh, you went on, “I’ve basically been taken advantage by most of the people in my life, and you’re the first guy to make me feel like I’m worth more than my last name. I don’t want all of this”—you gestured to the space around you—“to make you feel like you have to live up to some expectation.”

“It’s not that, Y/N, I—”

“Then what is it?”

“I told you, I can’t explain it right now.”

“Well, if you can’t tell me, then what’re we even doing?” Exasperated, your voice broke. That was all it took for your tears to start spilling again, and even though you willed them to stop, you couldn’t keep them from pooling at your waterline. Jay simply looked agonized as he struggled to form coherent sentences. “What is it, am I—am I that hard to want?”

You couldn’t quite catch Jay’s outraged expression properly with the way your vision was blurring, but the tension between you two was unbearable. You could feel his grip tighten around your thighs upon hearing your words.

“No, it’s easier than breathing.”

You sucked in a breath and shook your head. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be talking about this before your—”

It all happened quicker than a flash of lightning. One second Jay’s thumb was rubbing circles on your tear-stained cheeks, and then his soft lips were pressed against yours.

Jay kissed you.

He kissed you.

There was a violent storm in your chest, and it left strong gusts of passion and a torrent of arousal in its wake. It appeared that Jay, too, only felt the weight of his actions after pulling back to look at you. His eyes were searching yours, a little helpless, but you could tell that they were clouding over with something fiercer.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he whispered—a failed attempt at forced conviction. His lips were inches from yours, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. With little self-restraint, Jay leaned in once more, leaving gentle, chaste pecks that grew more and more fervent, his hesitancy ebbing away as he did. “No, no, no, no—I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

You couldn’t do this either. A voice in the back of your head kept telling you to backtrack, to tell Jay what being together would mean for him right now. But his interview with your father was tomorrow; you couldn’t unnerve him right before it. Despite your internal conflict, however, it was hard for you to focus on anything but the curve of his lips.

A bubble of fear dared to burst as your vulnerability bled through, but all you knew was that you wanted more—no, you needed more.

His gaze was still piercing, and you knew exactly what he was asking. Although your voice had been wavering up until now, you never sounded more sure of yourself when you said in a breath, “But I need you,” and something primal inside Jay snapped.

He sealed his mouth over yours again—hot and slow—and the way his hands roamed your body wasn’t pure in the slightest. He pulled you in by your waist, dragging your clothed core against his thigh, and then his bruising grip found its way to your hips.

You felt feverish.

There was something intoxicating about the way Jay kissed you. He was precise, like he had mapped out exactly what he wanted to do to you beforehand, and he saw to it that you were fully satisfied. Although you two had all the time in the world, there was a sense of urgency in the way you held the back of his neck. You wanted all of him before you couldn’t have him at all.

You heard a low rumble in the back of his throat. The sounds he made were so addicting that you grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, rousing another groan from Jay before he proceeded to slip his tongue past your lips.

Jay pulled away to kiss down to your jawline, leaving small pecks down the column of your neck and the expanse of your collarbone until he found that perfect spot that stole the breath from your lungs. He sank his teeth into your shoulder, inciting a yelp that he muffled with a chaste kiss.

Then, he was pulling down the front of your shirt, kissing as much exposed skin he could find. You moaned softly as you rolled your hips down against him, but Jay was still focused on ravaging your chest.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he rasped again, practically growling against your skin, “but I can’t think straight around you.”

Your nerves felt like they had been lit aflame. You had fantasized about this moment for a while, but you never anticipated that Jay would be so forward, so desperate. Despite that, though, he was still gentle in the way he kissed every inch of your skin as if he worshiped your body.

You drew back to hurriedly pull your shirt over your head. Jay eyed you with a hunger in his eyes that couldn’t be satiated, but he seemed to regain some of his conscience when he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. The door was still unlocked, but you weren’t worried about anyone walking in.

“Here? Are you sure?” he asked. He kept his eyes trained on you as you tossed your shirt to the side, then hooked your fingers in your waistband to slide your shorts down, then your thong (which he ended up tearing in half). His hands traveled up your sides, and then he moved to unhook your bra. “I told you we couldn’t do this.”

“We can’t, or you won’t?”

“We can’t,” he insisted, firmer this time, although his eyes were unfocused, “but I’ve never been good at standing my ground when it comes to you.”

“Good,” you started, slipping your bra off and letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “you’re a dream.”

Despite your burning cheeks, you ignored his praise and continued, “I want you to stop caring about everyone else and just pay attention to me.”

His eyes were hard when he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I won’t be able to stop,” he said, “and you might not be able to sleep tonight.”

“Prove it.”

He stared at you, almost like he was enchanted, and his hand crept up your inner thigh. “C’mere.”

You thought Jay was going to pull you back on top of him when he took your hand, but he ran his hands up to your hips and left hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thigh. You gasped, pressing your legs together because your core burned with arousal, but Jay looked up at you through half-lidded eyes.

He stood up, making you take a few steps backward. Jay loosened his tie and unbuttoned his coat as he walked you back into the wall. You took that as your cue to push his coat off his shoulders and carefully undo the buttons of his white button-up.

“Careful,” he said in a low voice, “they’re hanging on by a thread.”

You weren’t sure how rough you were handling his clothing, but you swore you heard the sounds of fabric tearing while you were trying to undress Jay. He gave you a look of disapproval, but once you let it drop to the floor, neither of you cared about the state of your garments anymore.

And, oh, did he look heavenly; you hadn’t noticed it much before, but his broad shoulders and sculpted chest made you feel like you were going to be ruined. His body was truly something else. You were almost certain it belonged behind velvet ropes at a museum, not brazenly on display before you. You ran your hand down his abs, making him draw in shallow breaths because of your featherlight touch.

“Want me to make you feel good?” he asked in a low voice, lips at the shell of your ear. You short-circuited and let out a pathetic, breathless sound, which Jay only cooed at. The pad of his thumb ghosted your bottom lip. “You’ve been waiting, yeah?”

“Well, I’ve been waiting, too,” Jay continued, “and I’ve been waiting for so long that I’m scared I won’t hold back. Think I’d break you.”

You let out a whimper so pathetic that your cheeks burned with shame immediately after. Jay smirked at your reaction, pushing you further up against the wall. You two were now chest-to-chest, and he experimentally rolled your nipple between two fingers, watching how your face twisted in an attempt to keep quiet.

“I think you should just break me, then.”

“Should I?” He hummed, pausing to look you up and down. “Want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both?”

You received a smug grin in response. “Good girl.”

He lowered himself to the ground until his lips were near the apex of your legs. You felt your heart hammering in your ribcage.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he observed, experimentally breaching your cunt with the tips of his fingers. “How often do you think about me, baby?”

His words ripped through your body like an inferno. “I… I don’t—”

“Don’t what? You don’t think about me?” he asked, and he didn't look like he believed you at all. You shook your head in protest and he grinned. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

“I’m not telling.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just get it out of you.”

The Order member had a wicked side to him, you concluded. Jay stood up once more to look you in the eye. Despite his gentle tone, he slid his pointer and middle finger into your cunt with a suddenness that made you grab onto his shoulders. You inhaled sharply when his thumb found purchase on your clit, and his gentle murmurs of encouragement didn’t exactly match the unforgiving pace his fingers were pumping inside you at.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jay started kissing up your inner thighs again. He littered your skin with kisses and bruises, which you hardly noticed because you were too focused on the way his fingers curled inside of you.

Every mewl and whimper spilling from your lips only seemed to encourage Jay further, and it was only a matter of time before he experimentally dragged his tongue along the folds of your cunt. You let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself by gripping his hair. Coupled with the pace Jay fingered you at, you were almost worried that he would actually break you by the end of the night. He was so tedious and meticulous about the way he pleasured you, gauging your reactions and intensifying his ministrations whenever he noticed you were enjoying something.

A certain desperation clouded your eyes once you felt that familiar warmth blossoming under your skin. Your arousal was all but rushing in your ears, so loud that you couldn’t even think about anything but the undeniable pleasure.

Jay seemed to take notice that you were reaching your climax, so he slipped his fingers out of you. Before you could even let out a whine, he grabbed your hips and buried his face in your cunt. You gasped, but it quickly broke off into obscene moans as his tongue skillfully snaked its way past your slit. Your hips canted a little for more friction, but Jay had a formidable grip on you, keeping you pinned to the wall.

“Like that?” he purred, flattening his tongue and licking one long stripe to your clit. He laughed a little when you could only let out a helpless cry, begging for more. “No one’s made you feel this good, baby? Is that why you can’t get enough of me?”

You weren’t sure what you were trying to say, but whatever it was came out as an incoherent string of words. Jay pulled away to stand up, which frustrated you beyond belief because you needed his hands to be on you. A sheen of your arousal glistened on his chin and nose, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you pulled him close to connect your lips again.

Jay’s fingers buried themselves in your cunt again, and your breath hitched against his mouth as you readjusted to the sudden penetration. The pads of his fingers brushed against that perfect spot right under your cervix that made you see stars. You were so, so close to the edge of your release, and you could feel the corners of Jay’s mouth lift when he realized you were about to cum.

He pulled back to ask, “No?”

You shook your head, and Jay smiled, curling his fingers at the perfect angle to get you to come undone before him. Pleasure rippled through your body. You felt like your knees were going to give out from standing, and you ended up falling forward against Jay’s bare chest.

You felt him press a kiss to your temple, and it got a weak smile out of you. You tried to look him in the eye when you wrapped your arms around his neck, but he was licking off your arousal from his fingers in a way that immediately flustered you.

“Take these off,” you said shyly, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

“Uh-huh,” Jay replied absentmindedly, ghosting his hands down your sides. “I can’t believe you look this good.”

You pouted. “You’re not even listening to me!”

“Nah, I always am.” His hands found the back of your thighs, and you took that as your cue to hold onto his shoulders and jump. Jay hiked your legs up his waist and carried you to the bed, setting you down carefully at the edge. He was towering over you when he stood between your knees and asked, “Why don’t you take them off yourself?”

“M-me?” you stuttered out, but your fingers were already fumbling for his zipper.

You swallowed thickly. Jay’s cock was strained under the fabric, and you were already overwhelmed by his size. You tugged his pants down by the belt loops, and Jay assisted you by pushing the rest down his legs. His boxers were next, and you were especially nervous about this one. As you pulled them down, with Jay shuddering as you traced his v-line with your manicured nails, his erect cock sprung out and slapped the underside of his abdomen.

There was an alarming issue at hand: Jay was huge.

Not that you were one to compare dick sizes, but his was considerably thicker and heavier than any other ones you had seen before. You were almost worried that Jay wasn’t exaggerating when he told you he would break you.

You felt hot again when he cupped your cheek with his palm. “Hm? Keep going.”

“Keep going…” you echoed, distracted, and you pressed a gentle kiss to the head of his cock. Then, you looked up at him through your lashes. “Like this?”

Jay groaned. “Exactly like that, Y/N.”

He wasn’t yours. No, he wasn’t yours, but you needed to have him. You wrapped your lips around Jay’s cock and let your tongue glide against his slit, drawing a sharp breath from him. His hand gripped the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his head.

Jay wasn’t one to be impatient, but you were getting excited at the thought of him getting frustrated with you. He hastily bucked his hips forward to chase the pleasure, but you continued to tease him with your kitten licks. He suppressed a moan at the back of his throat. You pulled your lips off of him to roll your tongue along the vein that ran down his shaft.

“Fuck, you’re such a damn tease,” he growled. His fingers curled until he had your hair in a fist. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know?”

You laughed, lips still pressed against his shaft. “I wanna be the only one who makes you feel this way, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Jay started with an odd expression dawning on his face, and he was dead serious when he said, “you’ve already ruined everyone else for me.”

Your face broke into a dreamy smile before taking his cock into your mouth. His moans were addicting, so you continued your torturous antics until Jay gripped your jaw tightly with his free hand. You let out a sound that was an attempt of a giggle which resulted in you choking on his length, and Jay tilted his head back and moaned.

Then, you took the rest of him in, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock that you couldn’t fit inside your mouth. His cock hit the back of your throat, and soon, Jay was thrusting his hips at a steady rhythm while you deepthroated him. Tears pooled at your eyes at the stretch, but you still hallowed your cheeks and sucked him off, unrelenting.

You knew he was close by his strangled groans and the way his cock twitched in your mouth, so it wasn’t long before Jay stuttered out a string of curses and came in your mouth. You felt his hot seed down your throat and swallowed. Jay just stared at you, dazed, drinking in your fucked-out appearance as his thumb grazed your bottom lip.

“So good for me,” he murmured, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He was barely audible, but nevertheless, his voice set you on fire.

You couldn’t even think straight anymore. Couldn’t think of anything but him.

“Jay.”

“Yeah?” He hummed the words, still relishing how you looked before him.

“Fuck me.”

You heard the way his breath hitched at your words. Saw the way his eyes went unfocused again. It was the same look he had given you several times in the past; you could never place your finger on what he was thinking, but now it was all too clear.

He wanted you—possibly even more than you expected.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, voice pitched an octave deeper. You crawled back on the mattress as Jay moved on top of you, using his strong arms to hover over you. “Want me to turn you into a mess.”

You grabbed his shoulders. “Yeah, need you to fuck me.”

“I don’t have a condom.”

You groaned. “Can we just buy Plan B tomorrow?”

“Do you know how expensive Plan B is? That’s, like, at least—”

You rolled your eyes and cut him off by sealing his lips with yours, cupping Jay’s face with your hands. After you pulled back, much to his displeasure, you asked, “You have me naked underneath you right now, and you’re worried about how much Plan B costs?”

He cocked his head to the side, as if the answer couldn’t be any more obvious. “Yes?”

“We can deal with that tomorrow,” you insisted, “just please.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Jay’s lips. “Never thought you’d be this needy.”

“I’ve never had sex like this,” you admitted in a breath, gripping onto his shoulders a little harder. It was true; you had never had all of your needs fully satisfied without any expectations of returning the favor.

“Never?”

You shook your head. “And… can you start slow for me? Please?”

“I plan on taking my time.” He moved your hair out of your face. “Hoon didn’t?”

Again, a hesitant shake of your head. Jay’s eyes narrowed.

His laugh was devoid of mirth. “Of course.”

This time, it was Jay who rolled his eyes. You thought he was frustrated with you, but then he pulled your hips forward so that you were flush against his pelvis. Something about the steely resolution in his eyes told you to prepare yourself.

“I’ve stretched you out enough, haven’t I? I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on,” he murmured, low and matter-of-factly, “and I’m gonna make sure you forget how that idiot treated you. ‘Cause it’s just me now”—he pushed his fingers into your mouth, shivering at the way your tongue wrapped around his digits—“right?”

You let out a broken whimper, spurring Jay to press his fingers down against your tongue.

“Right, Y/N?” he repeated—gentler, this time.

All you could do was nod, and you grabbed ahold of his wrist to suck on his fingers once more before moving his hand lower. Jay gave you a bewildered stare as you guided his hand to the base of your neck. He quirked a brow at you before realization seemed to wash over him; he splayed out his fingers to wrap around your neck. His pointer and middle finger made a ‘v’ around your Adam’s apple, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“You still have to tell me, you know,” Jay murmured, running his free hand down the curve of your hip. He moved it lower and lower before his thumb found your clit again. Before you could ask for clarification, he added, “How often you think about me.”

Your face felt hot—whether it was from his comment or the way he was looking at you so intently, you didn’t know. “All… all the time.”

“Huh. Is that so?”

You could hardly speak coherently as took his hand off your throat to rub the head of his cock against your cunt. You let a trembling sigh slip as he lazily ran it along your folds.

You whined. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“I’m here now, baby.”

Jay’s shifted forward a little, just enough for his tip to breach your entrance. You attempted to suppress your moans by biting your lip, but the next jerk of his hips had you crying out far too loud to go unnoticed. Jay waited for you to adjust before he went any further. He hadn’t bottomed out inside you yet, but the head of his cock was fully inside you by now, and fuck, did it feel good.

You ran your nails down his back, digging them in when Jay thrusted shallowly to work his shaft into you. He gripped the back of your thighs to stretch you out some more, groaning out loud whenever you clenched around his length. You felt like you were being split in half, drowning in a molten sea that pulled you back down each time you surfaced for air.

Your back arched off the bed, and Jay reached to hold the small of your back so that he could keep your body pressed against his. His other hand was pushing your hip up his waist. Right as he rocked his hips forward, you cried out as Jay bottomed out inside you. (He also clamped his hand over your mouth immediately after and said in an undertone, “You have to keep it down, princess.”) Through half-lidded eyes, you met his gaze that never once left your face.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he murmured, drunk off your reactions. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep looking at me like that.”

You pulled Jay down into a searing kiss, and the butterflies in your stomach scattered. His lips melted over yours effortlessly. He moved his hand from your back to your cheek, rubbing small circles with his thumb. You dug your nails into his back when he started pistoning his hips into yours.

He started out with slow, languid thrusts. You were overwhelmed by a dizzying sort of pleasure that clouded all rhyme and reason. Despite his hips snapping into yours, the way Jay kissed you was so passionate that you nearly lost yourself in your haze.

Jay pulled away to litter kisses across your jaw and down your neck. You whimpered when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the conjunction between your neck and shoulder, but then you were squirming under him as he started sucking the supple skin.

“Wish I could have you like this forever,” he growled against your skin.

“I’m all yours.”

Jay pressed a sweet peck to your lips that grounded you momentarily.

Then, his pace sped up. If you were dizzy before, now you felt like your limbs had turned into jelly. Jay moved his hand to hold onto the headboard, pounding into you at a pace that made you feel like you were drowning in that sea of pleasure. If it wasn’t for Jay quieting you down each time, you two would’ve been caught already. You were gasping, moaning for more, and shuddering as Jay whispered praises against your skin.

This was the closest to heaven you had ever been in your life.

"F-fuck," you whimpered out, "that's it, Jay—please."

You were close. Fuck, you were so, so close. Each drag of Jay’s cock in your walls made you feel another torturous jolt of pleasure, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of your release. You screwed your eyes shut, ready to lose yourself to white-hot bliss, and Jay tenderly kissed your forehead.

Pinpricks of light exploded in your vision as your orgasm washed over you in full swing.

Too good. Way too good. You never felt anything like this; of course you had experienced orgasms before, but this was, by far, the most intense climax you ever reached. Jay let out a strangled groan shortly after, his eyes rolling back and his moans muffled against your neck, and pulled out so that he could cum on your stomach.

He sat up, panting and staring at where his cum trickled down your sides. For a moment, you were worried that the clouded expression on his face was out of regret and not lust, but you shook off the bad feeling and steeled your nerves.

He liked you. There was no doubt about it. After everything Jay did and said, there was no reason for you to be so insecure anymore.

You were both spent, panting and slipping in and out of consciousness in each other’s arms. Jay held you so tightly, like he never wanted to let go, and his head was tucked in the crook of your neck from how exhausted he was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I ruined my only suit.”

“Oh,” you breathed out absent-mindedly. You rolled over to find wherever you had strewn your phone, and it took several minutes for you to peel Jay’s arms off of you so that you could retrieve it. While he sat up to run his hands through his sweat-matted hair, you dialed the number of your father’s go-to tailor. “Hi,” you chirped into the phone, “I know it’s late right now, but could you please do me a favor and open the showroom for my friend?”

Jay looked up at you with a questioning gaze, though he placed his hand on the small of your back and tugged you close so that he could pepper kisses on your hip.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and tilted your head to get a crick out of your neck, leaning in to Jay’s touch as he kept his lips pressed to your skin.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“We’re going out to get you a suit,” you said, grabbing his hand with a grin. “C’mon, put on some clothes.”

He raised a brow and laced his fingers with yours. “Now? But it’s already late.”

“Trust me.” You giggled when you caught him staring at your lips again. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ jay's cooked LOL also gta 6 is not plot relevant at all i just wanted to be a little shit and let it happen before jay/n ��‍↕️ and very random but if you wanna join my discord server feel free to check it out here! we're having a barbie movie night soon so <3

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @zerasari @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowww @enha-stars @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct @hooniesuniverse @enhalov @enhypens-baby @isawritesss

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bellaveux · 1 year

Note

i adored the soft college au wanda she’s so cute :(( may i request smth along the lines of r and wanda not going public yet because r is nervous but there’s still nat trying to pursue her and wanda gets jelly and clingy ? fluff or hurt/comfort pls ty <3

ALL I NEED TO HEAR | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: when fellow classmate, natasha romanoff, has her eyes set on you, wanda struggles to hide her jealousy.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, college au!, jealous!wanda, soft!wanda, minor natasha romanoff x reader, jealousy, insecurity, kissing

word count: 5.5k

note: do not ask me why this took me a whole month to write!! i’m so so sorry for the long wait but here it is finally! i hope u like it :> (i meant to do fluff along with hurt/comfort but as i was writing it turned more angsty *thumbs up*)

In the bustling college lecture hall, amidst the hum of anticipation and the eager shuffle of notebooks, Wanda couldn't help but steal glances in your direction. Her heart swelled with a tender longing, a yearning she struggled to suppress as she looked at you as you were intently listening to the professor. Each stolen gaze only deepened her appreciation for your beauty, igniting an unspoken fascination that seemed to vibrate through her very core. Every fine detail, from your sculpted cheekbones to the way your lips formed a gentle smile, held an intoxicating allure that effortlessly captivated Wanda's senses. It was a magnetic force, an enchantment that dared Wanda to surrender to her desires. As rays of golden sunlight danced through the tall, arched windows, they gently caressed your countenance, illuminating your flawless features with an otherworldly glow. Wanda, with her heart in awe, marveled at the graceful curve of your delicate jawline, the gentle curve of your supple lips, and the sparkle in your eyes as you keep your attention towards the professor in the front of the room.

Yet, in the face of this consuming temptation, Wanda exercised incredible self-control. She wanted to touch you. To feel you. To kiss you. To show everyone that you were hers, just as she was yours. She fought the urges that surged within her, understanding the sanctity of personal space and the importance of boundaries, being mindful of your decision to keep everything subtle and on the down low. Her hands, adorned with delicate silver rings, just itched to trace the contours of your visage, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath her fingertips.

But Wanda wasn’t the only one who seemed to admire you. No, there was someone else—someone sitting far, multiple seats down the lecture hall, eyes trained on you for much longer than Wanda liked. A hint of uneasiness coursed through her veins. Her captivating gaze was momentarily drawn to a woman named Natasha, who sat in a distant corner of the curved row of the lecture hall, far from your shared space. Natasha, an enigmatic figure with an aura of magnetism, possessed an allure that stirred Wanda's heart, igniting an unwelcome sense of jealousy. Though she knew your loyalty was steadfast, the persistent glances exchanged between Natasha and her beloved fueled a flicker of insecurity within Wanda's soul.

“She’s staring at you,” Wanda whispers quietly, the tips of her fingers softly fiddling with your free hand under the long table.

You shake your head slightly, all too familiar with Wanda’s regular signs of jealousy. You pull your hand away to write on the blank sticky note sticking onto your of her notebook saying: ‘ignore her.’ Wanda sighs in return and rolls her eyes at the piece of paper. After a beat, she huffs and leans back into her seat, beginning to nibble lightly on her bottom lip as her patience wore thin.

“Kind of hard not to,” she replied, tone laced with bitterness.

Wanda subtly places a hand on your thigh, close to your knee, underneath the table, wanting to touch in some way—almost as if she was reminding herself that you were hers, and if Natasha could see, that would be even better.

The pout that shows up on her face doesn’t go unnoticed as you move her hand away from you with a shy smile, “Wanda, they’ll see.”

“Sorry,” she sighed again, putting her head down against her arm on the desk as she glanced over at the other redhead who did nothing but keep her eyes on you. “It’s just annoying to me… that she’s staring.”

You chose to tune out Wanda’s jealous complaints, paying attention to the professor at the front of the room. As the professor's words flowed through the lecture hall like a gentle breeze, your unwavering focus became a testament to your dedication. Your nimble fingers gracefully danced across the pages of your notebook, capturing the essence of each scholarly utterance in a tapestry of meticulous notes. Meanwhile, Wanda, sitting still right next to you with an otherworldly charm, exhibited her annoyance by tapping her pen against the wooden surface of the desk.

Wanda seemed to get distracted once again, something she couldn’t quite control all by herself, so you decided to let her sneak soft touches of her hand on your thigh, tender and elusive, spoke a language only you could decipher—a language of intimacy and shared understanding. Her fingertips, grazed the softness of your thighs, traveling up towards the hem of your skirt—the one you decided to wear was especially pretty on you that not touching you became an impossible task. It almost didn’t feel fair, for her to hide the fact that this pretty woman, you, were not hers. She’d shout it to the world when she could, when you’d let her, whenever you were ready to.

After a while, the final bell resounds throughout the room, marking the end of another day of intellectual exploration, your delicate features transform with an unmistakable sense of serenity. The waning rays of sunlight, filtering through the slats of the partially drawn blinds, dance upon the mahogany desk, illuminating the array of meticulously arranged notebooks and pens that have been your steadfast companions throughout your entire academic voyage. With deliberate grace, Wanda watched as you reach out, your nimble fingers gathering your supplies and shoving them into your bag.

You were so pretty in everything you did that Wanda would never tire herself as she watched you. She was glad to call you hers, even though the people around her didn’t know it yet. To everyone else, the two of you were best friends, glued to each other, roommates sharing the same apartment, but nothing more. And Wanda continued to wait for the day when you would be ready to show everyone.

As Wanda sat still and poised in her chair while students squeezed themselves out of the door to head to their next classes, her eyes caught a flicker of unease. With an air of intrigue and curiosity, her gaze fixated on the elegant figure that graced the space, coming closer and closer to where the two of you were sitting. As Natasha began a deliberate stride, weaving through the sea of desks and students, Wanda's eyes narrowed—a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her, a potent concoction of jealousy, apprehension, and a burning desire to unravel Natasha's intentions. What does she want now? A tremor of uncertainty danced upon Wanda's delicate features.

“Hey, (y/n), you look beautiful today… like always,” she smiled that charming smile of hers, an action that would usually have others swooning for her. “Just wanted to check in. We still on for later?”

You ignored the compliment, one of many, and took a quick glance at Natasha, offering her a tiny, friendly smile as you packed your things, “Uh, yeah, 4:30, right?”

“Yeah, at the library,” she nodded before looking past you for a brief moment to smirk at the other redhead who had been eyeing her since class started. “Wanda.”

“Natasha,” your girlfriend greeted bitterly.

After a beat, Natasha cleared her throat and put her eyes on you once more, “Alright, well, I’ll see you, hon.”

Wanda glared at her as she walked away, biting the inside of her cheek as annoyance fueled in her chest. It was in those ephemeral moments that a tempest brews and Wanda finds herself grappling with the tumultuous waves of jealousy. Like a veil, thin and delicate, but bearing an invisible weight, her discontent unfolds, entwining her thoughts with insecurities.

Natasha and her had never really been close—not when they both fancied the same girl. It was always a fight for your attention, and now, a fight to keep the third party away from you.

“I don’t know if I feel good about you going later,” Wanda mutters so quietly under her breath, you almost didn’t catch it.

You give her a soft look, hoping to reassure her somewhat with a light smile, “It won’t be long, Wanda. And I won’t be the only one there, remember?”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. I just…” Wanda paused and looked into your eyes for a moment, practically using all of her strength to keep herself from leaning into your touch. “Just text me later. I’ll pick you up.”

Wanda watches you nod, bringing your hand up to give your shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You want so badly to kiss her, to remind her how much you love her, if only you weren’t too scared to show everyone your relationship with her.

As the time reached about almost forty minutes past four, you found yourself enveloped in a quiet study session, diligently engaged with a select group of classmates, immersed in a collective pursuit of finishing this class project. The light of the setting sun delicately filtered through the grand windows, casting a warm glow upon the diligent scholars. Textbooks, notebooks, and scattered papers adorned the table, bearing witness to their ardent quest for knowledge. As the ethereal scent of books permeated the air, your focus was unyielding, your mind attuned to the intricacies of the project at hand.

But within the depths of your intellectual fervor, a gentle longing tugged at your heart. You can’t help but think of her, Wanda, tiptoeing through your mind, like a melody echoing in your soul. In your mind's eye, you yearned for Wanda's presence, her soothing embrace, and the way her eyes sparkled with encouragement. You envisioned Wanda's tender touch as if it were the guiding light that fueled your fire. And while you wanted to get the work done as soon as possible, you couldn’t help but think of her.

You wondered what she was up to right now. Maybe, in your shared apartment, she was napping, studying on her own, watering her plants, or cooking dinner… Whatever she did, it always put a smile on your face.

“Hey, why are you smiling?”

It was a small whisper that only you could hear, coming from your right. You cleared your throat and took in your surroundings once more, noticing that Natasha was sitting next to you, doing some research on her laptop for anything useful to add to the project you worked together on for another class with a couple of other students.

You shake your head and whispered back, “I’m not smiling.”

Natasha scoffed playfully, “Well, smiling or not… You look pretty.”

The compliment didn’t phase you one bit. Instead, you turned your head to look at Natasha, who sported a smug smile as she looked at you. You were accustomed to the delicate dance of adoration orchestrated by Natasha, whose flattery and flirtatious overtures had become as predictable as the sun's rise. Yet, within your eyes lay a quiet strength, a spirit unyielding to the allure of superficial charm. Though Natasha's words, like sweet melodies, danced upon your ears, they fell upon a heart unmoved, resilient in its pursuit of genuine connection. It didn’t mean anything—not when you were loved by the woman you adored the most, when you had the most caring girlfriend waiting for you at home.

Natasha's advances, though flattering to the world's eye, did little to stir your heart, as it was already enveloped in a love so pure and profound that it painted every fiber of your being with colors of contentment. You, ever graceful and empathetic, offered Natasha kindness and friendship, cherishing the genuine connection you two shared, but resolutely protecting the love you held so dear. Wanda.

“Finish your work, Nat,” you say simply before turning your head away from her.

You could feel the redhead smiling in defeat, returning back to her laptop, the sounds of her fingers typing away on her keyboard filled the room.

As you delved deep into your project at the library, your once zealous spirit began to wane, and weariness settled in your bones. The weight of countless hours spent pouring over research and refining ideas bore down on you, urging you to seek solace beyond the confines of the library. Restlessness tugged at your thoughts as you yearned for the comfort of home and the embrace of your girlfriend.

She had been texting you quite a lot while you were here. And, “a lot” was practically an understatement.

She texted you minutes before you got to the library, then again after you sat down at a table, and again when you took your supplies out, and even more when you began working, up until now, right when you began to pack everything up. She kept telling you that she misses you so much and asked how long you were going to be there. She also went on about telling you to tell her if Natasha was doing anything to make you uncomfortable, checking to make sure you were okay, and asking quite a number of times if she should pick you up now.

And, you understood why. You understood her eagerness to talk to you as she was never good at hiding her jealousy which led to her clinging onto you in any way, whether it was texting you, talking to you, holding you, or touching you. Anything.

The vibrant colors of the library's surroundings dulled in your eyes as your focus shifted from the intellectual pursuit to the emotional embrace you craved. Thoughts of Wanda wrapped around your weary mind like a comforting shawl, igniting a renewed sense of purpose and drive. You sent her a quick text as soon as you were finished, telling her you were ready for her to pick you up, to which she replied that she was on her way almost immediately.

Your group of classmates walked out of the library, right into the chilly air, bidding their farewells and wishing each other luck for the presentation that was due in a couple of days time. They each left one by one until it was just you and Natasha left standing by the entrance doors.

“It’s a little cold out. I can take you home if you’d like,” Natasha says, shoving her hands into her jacket’s pocket.

You adjusted the bag hanging off your shoulder reluctantly, glancing over to the redhead, “Uh, Wanda’s already on her way, so… but, thanks, Natasha.”

“Right,” she says quickly, almost as if she knew what you were going to say.

She was quiet now. Uncharacteristically quiet. A mixture of excitement and apprehension coursed through Natasha’s veins as if every nerve in her body had suddenly been awakened. Despite her usual confidence, Natasha couldn't help but feel an unexpected wave of unease wash over her. Just as she was clueless about your relationship with Wanda, she found it hard to fight for your attention against her. Any of her words crashed into brick walls as she tried to flirt with you and it only made her want to have you more, even when you had told her that you weren’t interested. She didn’t know why, but she liked to think you’d end up liking her eventually.

“There’s… There’s this new Italian restaurant that opened. In downtown, by the bridge,” she starts, watching you closely for you your reaction. “Would you like to go try it with me sometime?”

You see Wanda’s car turning into the lot up ahead as she said those words. A sigh escapes your lips before you turn slightly to look at Natasha, “As friends?”

Natasha chuckles and drops her head down in defeat, knowing very well what your answer would be, after countless attempts and rejections. Her eyes lock onto Wanda’s car as well after bringing her head back up slowly.

“Your chariot awaits,” Natasha nods her head towards the car that pulls up right in front of the two of you.

You give Natasha a small smile before beginning your walk, “Have a good night, Nat. Drive safe.”

Natasha smiles in return, watching you step away. You get into Wanda’s car smoothly, greeting your girlfriend as a sense of relief washes over you.

As you settled comfortably into the passenger seat, your eyes met Wanda's, but instead of the warm welcome you expected, you noticed a flicker of annoyance and jealousy. Wanda's features, usually so radiant and full of affection, were clouded with a hint of unease. Your heart sank as you realized the source of Wanda's distress—Natasha, the persistent pursuer. A tumultuous mixture of guilt and longing swirled within your chest as you searched for the right words to soothe Wanda's troubled heart.

“Baby, let’s go home,” you say softly, your hand subtly ghosting over hers over the heartsick. “I’m tired.”

Wanda blinks and her eyes dart from Natasha, who stood still by the library doors waiting for the two of you to leave, over to you. Her eyes soften as soon as she looked at you.

“Okay,” she nods softly, before turning her head to the front, starting her drive back to your shared apartment.

As Wanda gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white with tension, an unusual silence enveloped the car. The soft hum of the engine provided a gentle backdrop to the muffled thoughts swirling in her mind. Casting a quick glance towards you, she noticed her girlfriend's serene expression, unaware of the storm brewing within Wanda's heart. Determined to shield you from her internal turmoil, Wanda reached out, intertwining her fingers with yours, seeking solace in your touch.

Wanda didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the drive home. She kept her hand locked in yours right over your lap, occasionally using her thumb to smooth over your thigh so gently that you wanted to kiss her right then and there.

The drive didn’t last long as Wanda made it her task to rush home where the two of you would finally be alone, where she could have you all to yourself.

With the click of the front door, you stepped into the serene refuge of your shared apartment, an oasis of tranquility and familiarity. A palpable sense of relief washed over you, permeating the air as you shed the weight of the outside world from your shoulders. The soft glow of warm lamplight in your living room enveloped the space, casting a gentle ambiance that mirrored your contentment. As the two of you kicked off your shoes, a collective sigh escaped your lips, releasing the tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

You went about the evening as usual. Wanda made dinner before picking you up and you ate together. As the meal drew to a close, your determined gaze shifted to the pile of books and papers scattered across a nearby desk. With a sense of purpose, you excused herself and retreated to your work, placing a small kiss on the top of Wanda’s head, leaving her to her own devices. You told her you had to check up on some of your work just in case, not wanting to leave any mistakes on your part of the project. She watched you for a bit as you went to work before turning the television on to watch that cute old sitcom she loved so much.

Wanda's eyes occasionally flickered towards you, filled with admiration and understanding. She reveled in the sight of your unwavering dedication, recognizing the passion that fueled your late-night endeavors. At the same time, she wanted to pull you away from your work, keep you all to herself, kiss you all night long. Their cozy apartment was awash in the warm glow of lamplight, casting a soft ambiance upon the room. Wanda, feeling a sense of contentment, nestled herself on the plush couch, watching her show, patiently awaiting you to finish.

When you do finish, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to refresh before bed. Sensing a subtle ache in her heart, Wanda couldn't bear the thought of being separated, even for a moment. With a surge of affection and longing, she quietly followed you into the bathroom, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew her towards you.

Inside the bathroom, the air was filled with the soothing scent of lavender, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. You stood by the sink, ready to wash off your face and brush your teeth. Wanda, unable to contain her yearning any longer, approached you, her eyes reflecting a deep longing. Your gazes met in the mirror, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Without wasting another second, Wanda's arms found their way around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. The warmth radiated through your bodies, your closeness a source of comfort and reassurance.

“Hey,” you smiled at her through the mirror, listening to her breathe against your neck. Although, your smile faded slowly as she didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?”

Wanda shook her head slightly, tightening her hold around your waist, “Nothing.”

“Wanda.”

“I just…” Wanda sighed and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, then one at the side of your neck, “I missed you a lot. That’s all.”

The words, gentle and delicate, struck a chord deep within your heart. A tingling sensation radiated through your being, as if every nerve ending had come alive, attuned to Wanda's every touch and breath. The weight of Wanda's absence had been temporarily lifted, only to be replaced by the overwhelming yearning that surged through your veins.

After a moment, you gently moved Wanda’s arms from your waist to turn around to face her. Wanda immediately put her arms around your frame once again as you wrapped yours around her neck. You saw her eyes flicker down to your lips, and it almost made you smile, knowing that she wanted to kiss you, but the undeniable fact that something else was bothering her interrupted your thoughts.

“What else?” you ask softly, bringing a hand up to h run your hand through her red hair. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes—your hand in her hair, massaging her scalp relaxed her in ways nothing and no one else could.

“There’s nothing else,” she says nonchalantly, not giving in to your gentle touches that would usually urge her to do whatever you asked her to.

You pull your hand back and give her a look, a serious one that told her that you weren’t buying every bit of what she was saying.

“I’m not jealous,” she said quickly as if she could read your mind, knowing very well that that question was floating around in your head somewhere, begging to be asked.

You shook your head, “I didn’t say you were.”

You watch as Wanda sighed and dropped her head down to your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to her body, pressing you slightly against the counter.

In an instinctive response to the relief flooding her soul, Wanda nestled her head into the crook of your neck, seeking the familiar scent and the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. Wanda's fingertips traced gentle patterns on your back, her hands under your shirt, drinking in the sensation of skin against skin, reveling in the closeness that had been sorely missed. Wanda's heart found respite, the ache gradually dissipating with each passing second. With a profound sense of gratitude, she clung to you, her body pressed against yours.

It took a few more moments of silence before you asked her another question.

“Is this about Natasha?” You knew the answer when Wanda didn’t move or say anything.

The air held a moment of silence as Wanda's heart wrestled with conflicting emotions. With a heavy sigh, she found herself caught between her desire for transparency and her fear of burdening you with her insecurities. A battle raged within her, but she summoned a fragile smile to her lips, masking the jealousy that had woven itself tightly around her heart.

“A little bit,” Wanda whispered reluctantly against your shoulder.

It was. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it’s been bugging her the whole day. She wished Natasha would back off. She wished she could tell her to back off. She wished she could show her that you belonged to her, just as she belonged to you. And Wanda wanted to tell you. She wanted to voice this constant struggle of jealousy that she had been going through each time when the two of you were in the public eye, but she had to wait for you.

And she’d wait for as long as you need her to.

A heavy sense of guilt weighed upon your heart as you observed Wanda's pained expression. Though you knew you should have revealed your relationship to the world, fear had tightened its grip around you, preventing you from openly embracing your love.

Each time Wanda's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of insecurity and longing, your own heart ached with remorse. In the confines of your mind, you fervently wished for the courage to proclaim your love, to shield Wanda from the torment of doubt and protectiveness. Yet, the words remained lodged in your throat, locked away by apprehension and uncertainty.

“I’m scared of losing you to someone else,” she confessed, rubbing circles against the small of your back.

As you watched Wanda battle her internal turmoil, your desire to ease your girlfriend's worries intensified. With each passing moment, your resolve strengthened, your determination to overcome your own fears deepening. You knew that the time would come when you could no longer keep your love hidden away, for the pain inflicted upon Wanda by you and her clandestine existence was a stark reminder that love thrived when it was allowed to bloom openly, casting its vibrant hues upon the world.

“Listen to me carefully, please.” You brought both your hands up to cup Wanda’s face gently in your palms, your eyes filled with empathy and understanding, “I’m not ever leaving you. I love you, Wanda, so much. And… I know it’s hard not to, but don’t listen or think about Natasha or anyone else. She doesn’t have me… And she won’t ever have me. Only you. I belong to you.”

I have you. Your words repeated in her head.

Wanda's expression softened as she leaned into your touch, finding comfort in the warmth of your palms, “I have you.”

You smiled softly as did Wanda, “I don’t belong to anybody else.”

And as if relief washed over her worries, Wanda smiled smugly, knowing no one else has you the way she did. The heaviness that had settled in her heart dissipated like morning mist under the warm rays of the sun. Your words, spoken with tenderness and understanding, had acted as a balm to Wanda's troubled soul. With every gentle stroke of your hands against her cheek, Wanda felt the lingering tendrils of jealousy and insecurity unravel.

She saw the sincerity in your eyes, a mirror of her own love and devotion. The weight that had burdened her heart had transformed into a newfound lightness, replaced by an unwavering trust and a sense of security that only you could provide.

“I love you so much,” she said with a smile, placing a tender kiss against your forehead.

However, Wanda's smile faltered as her gaze met your tearful eyes. In that fleeting moment, the air seemed to still, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. Wanda's heart ached at the sight of your glistening tears, a stark contrast to the usual vibrant warmth that emanated from your expressive eyes. A mix of concern and tenderness etched itself onto Wanda's face as she reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing against your cheek. She yearned to understand the depth of your sorrow, to offer solace and support in any way she could, just as you did for her just a second ago.

No, no, no. Wanda started to panic as your eyes got glossier by the second, tears threatening to fall any moment now. If there was absolutely one thing Wanda hated to see, it was you crying. And if she was the reason behind your tears, she’d do everything in her power to make it right.

“Hey, hey, talk to me, baby,” Wanda pleaded, leaning down to get a closer look at your face, trying to figure it out somehow on her own. “(Y/n)… Don’t cry—I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Sorry, I– I don't– I can’t– I can’t—“

Tears streamed down your face, their cascading path tracing the contours of your anguish. Each sob that wracked your body seemed to tear through the tranquility of the room, filling the air with a symphony of heartache.

Wanda stood frozen, her heart sinking as she witnessed your tear-streaked face, overcome with a depth of sorrow she had never seen before. Wanda's chest tightened with an overwhelming surge of emotions, her own eyes welling up with unshed tears. The sight of your vulnerability shook Wanda to her core.

As your cries grew louder, Wanda's immediate thought was to provide solace, to offer a safe haven within her arms. Without hesitation, she pulled you close once more, holding you with unwavering strength and tenderness. Your sobs found refuge in the curve of Wanda's neck, the soft fabric of Wanda's shirt absorbing your tears as her hand smoothed over the back of your head repeatedly. Wanda whispered soothing words, her voice a gentle balm to your wounded spirit, assuring you that you were not alone, that you would weather the storm together. Always.

When your sobs died down to soft labored breathing, Wanda moved to place soft kisses down against your temple, then over to your tear-stained cheeks, wiping her thumb over them in the process.

“I’m sorry,” she heard you say.

“For what, baby?”

“For being too afraid… to tell everyone. I know you’ve been waiting and that it hurts to wait. And watch, and hide. But, I’m… I’m still…” You found it hard to breathe as you spoke, not exactly meeting Wanda in her eyes, scared of what she might say.

“I know. It’s okay,” she didn’t let you finish. She already knew. Wanda’s heart ached when you still didn’t move to meet her eyes, so she repeated her words. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wanda's touch became an anchor of solace, her fingertips tracing soothing paths along your back. With each delicate caress, Wanda poured her love and compassion into her gestures, whispering soft reassurances that echoed like a soothing lullaby. The warmth of her connection enveloped you, creating a haven where vulnerability was met with understanding and acceptance. In this intimate moment, Wanda's touch spoke volumes, conveying a depth of empathy that words alone could not capture.

“Everything will be okay,” Wanda told you, kissing your temple once again. “I will be patient. I’ll wait a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade… a century. Whenever you’re ready to. I’ll be there. You have me, too, (Y/n). I’m not going anywhere.”

Wanda used her hands to turn your face towards her, forcing you to look at her.

As you gazed into her eyes, you found yourself captivated by the depth and intensity within them. The windows to Wanda's soul revealed a profound sincerity and unwavering devotion that surpasses any spoken words. In the gentle flicker of candlelight, you witness a kaleidoscope of emotions reflected in Wanda's eyes—love, adoration, and an unspoken promise of a lifetime together.

“Did you hear me?” Wanda asked, using her finger to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I heard you,” you smiled softly, sniffling cutely as you moved to lay your head against her chest. “I love you.”

Wanda smiled again, hands moving downwards to your waist, as a surge of overwhelming love cascaded through her being, filling every inch of her being with a profound sense of warmth and contentment. In that tender embrace, time seemed to stand still, and the outside world faded into insignificance. The soft curve of your back molded perfectly against Wanda's chest, as if you were two puzzle pieces destined to fit together. The steady rise and fall of your breath against her own served as a rhythmic reminder of their intimate connection. Wanda moved to bury her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent, a scent that held the essence of home. She felt the steady beat of your heart beneath her fingertips, a steady cadence that echoed the unwavering love that bound them.

“I can kiss you now, right?” Wanda mumbled into your neck. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your girlfriend couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on her face as your lips turned up into a smile as well, “Kiss me, then.”

“Oh, I will,” she said with a smirk, hands running up and down your waist, feeling you in her hands.

And she did. In that timeless space between breaths, Wanda leaned in, capturing your soft, quivering lips with her own. The world seemed to stand still as your mouths fused in a passionate dance of love and understanding. The taste of your tears mingled, but it was the sweetness of your love that prevailed, a balm that soothed both your souls. As you lingered in the embrace, your lips locked, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the profound beauty of your love.

She loved you forever. And she made sure to prove it to you the whole night, and many more nights to come.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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crosshairlovebot · 10 months

Text

moonlight devotions / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: you ask crosshair if he would still love you if you were a worm. he gives you his answer.

word count: 1,319

warnings: none. just fluff.

i have requests to do but this popped into my head while i was trying to sleep and i had to get it out first. this was fun to write! hope you enjoy <3

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating a path from the window to the bed, stretching across the bed sheets and Crosshair’s bare chest. It was a regular warm night on Pabu, but there was a sporadic cool breeze coming off the ocean that billowed the thin curtains. It wasn’t strong enough to reach the bed you both lay in, but it cooled the room slightly, pushing you up against Crosshair’s side – not that either of you complained at the closeness.

The lantern on your bedside table was barely lit, slowly dimming throughout the night as you whispered and spoke lowly to each other about anything and everything, even though there was no one else to risk waking in your shared bungalow. You had been talking for hours, too wired up to sleep straight away after a late dinner with his brothers and sister.

Now, you were in a lull of conversation, the only sound between you was your breathing. Crosshair’s arm encircled your frame in this position, holding you to his side, his thumb rubbing your arm softly. You had hooked one of your legs over his and drew patterns into the soft brown skin of his ribs with the tip of your finger, which broke out in prickles at your touch. You suppressed a yawn and angled your head up at him from the crook of his arm, studying his features. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply and evenly. His skin had tanned even more in the Pabu sun, and the crease between his brows was a little less prominent. You loved him like this. You knew he liked being like this too, even if he never expressed it in words.

“Cross?” you asked, flattening your hand against his solid stomach.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his hand squeezing your arm briefly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You delighted in the way his face creased in confusion. He looked down at you. “What?” he questioned, the word forming slowly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” you repeated, lips itching to smile at him.

He looked at you, gears turning in his head as he processed your words. “Why would you be a worm?”

You turned in his grasp, so you lay on your stomach, his hand gently falling to your waist as he adjusted to look at you, the moonlight softening his face.

“Maybe there was a…sorceress who was jealous of your affection for me…and was so mad that she decided to curse me to being a worm forever,” you tried to keep a neutral expression, biting the inside of your mouth to stop it from curling in amusement.

Crosshair’s brow raised, his hand absentmindedly moving back and forth across your waist. “A sorceress?”

“Yes.”

Crosshair hummed before he thought for a moment. “Is it just you that’s a worm? Not me?”

“Just me.”

Crosshair hummed again. His hand still moving slowly, this time his fingers tracing circles on the small of your back, as he considered the question. “I guess.”

You gaped at him. “You guess?”

He raised a brow at you, lips quirking in an amused smirk. “Do you want me to say no?”

“No,” you poked him hard. “I want you to be more certain!”

Crosshair chuckled, his fingers still dancing over your skin. “Why do you want to know so bad, ka’tra?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?” you huffed.

Crosshair gave a rare grin, stretching his face. “I’m not.” You rolled your eyes. “Why are you asking me?” he asked, gently touching under your chin with his free hand.

You shrugged. “I would still love you. I’d make you a little house. Maybe even a little hat.”

Crosshair let out a breathy but confused laugh. “A hat?”

“You don’t want a worm hat?” you grinned.

“What do I need a hat for?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, worms don’t even have eyes.”

“You can still have a hat.”

Crosshair sighed, shaking his head, still smiling. “If you were a worm, would you be able to talk?”

“No, I’m a worm.”

Crosshair tapped his lips as if in thought. “Hmm…so it would be a lot quieter then…”

You laughed, shoving him playfully, though not hard enough for him to budge even an inch. He laughed warmly as he pulled you closer with both arms around you this time.

“I would still love you if you were a worm, ka’tra. Keep you in my pocket. Take you around. Make sure no one stepped on you or used you for fish bait,” he told you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, kissing you gently there.

“Such a romantic.”

Crosshair laughed along with you, his breath tickling you as the gravelly sound filled the room and rumbled in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and shifted you both, so he was on his back with you on top of him, chest to chest. You placed your head down on him, your ear above his heart. It beat steadily in there, as it should. It was a rhythm that comforted you beyond words. He ran one hand up and down your back, the ministration soothing you enough for your eyes to begin to get heavy and for your breathing to match his. You were on the fringes of sleep when you heard him a moment or several later.

“I would try and find a way to break the curse though,” he told you, his voice almost a whisper, his gaze stuck on the ceiling again. You lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum. You were a little surprised at his declaration, and yet…not at all. He was just like that – devoted, even in hypothetical and impossible scenarios.

You smiled softly at him, touched. “You would?”

Crosshair met your eyes, his hands slowing to a stop. “I’d miss your voice…and this,” his hands stopped and wrapped around you, so he held you tight against his body. “I’d miss holding you…having you close.”

You smiled and sat up, his arms sliding against your sides as you moved to straddle him. “You could hold me in your palm if I was a worm.” You grabbed his hand and circled his palm with your finger, then kissed it.

Crosshair shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the same…” he sat up, that same hand reaching up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You gazed at him, the side of his face lit by the moon, the soft brown of his eyes full of something he only ever let you see. You could count the lines on his face that had appeared from the Pabu sun and see the inconsistencies in the lines of his tattoo, where the ink had bled into the texture of his skin. Words couldn’t express the ways in which you loved him.

His hands fell to your hips as he leaned in to capture your lips in his, kissing you sweetly but not without the searing heat that all his kisses held. With your arms wrapped around his neck, he drew you closer and you rocked yourself forward, moaning softly into his mouth as you pressed your heart into his as if they could be physically fused together. His grip on your hips tightened before he slowly pulled away, kissing down your jaw to behind your ear.

“Couldn’t do that either,” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“Good thing you’re going to break the curse.”

He pressed one more kiss on your temple. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

He laid back down, pulling you with him. Tiredness suddenly seeped into your body, and you looked to see the lantern was now completely out. You sighed as you lay against his chest, letting your heavy eyelids close as Crosshair’s hand moved slowly up and down your back just as it did before, soothing you to sleep.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / ka'tra = night sky thank you for reading! <3 hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluff! i'm on a mission to write as much soft crosshair as i can. wanted to get this out before i finished off the gen requests that have been patiently waiting to be completed. once i finish those requests, i have a few other fic ideas stuffed in my brain so stay tuned :')

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @ladyanidala @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader fic #crosshair fluff #soft crosshair #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair fic #the bad batch fluff #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair #bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you

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after-witch · 4 months

Note

Hey beautiful, so I was rereading your fic Sufferance and I've been meaning to ask; is there a particular explanation behind the occasional unreadable expressions Chrollo makes within the story? There are a few moments during the beginning and near the end of the rape scene where he seems to 'potentially' feel some sort of way that's hard to grasp. I'd assumed these weren't elaborated on simply because Chrollo's canonically pretty difficult to read and Reader herself was already in a state of extreme stress, but I have to wonder: were you perhaps thinking of a specific kind of emotion that Chrollo was seemingly suppressing deep down?

There's a line for example, near the end of the fic where Reader seems to think Chrollo appears to feel guilty, only for him to state that he actually feels as though his raping of her was not his fault but entirely hers alone. Initially I took this at face value to mean that whilst Chrollo may have regretted their "first time" turning out the way it did, he didn't feel any legitimate guilt for having violated Reader in the first place. I still have to wonder though, if perhaps you were trying to indicate that Chrollo maybe did feel a sense of guilt in that brief moment, but perhaps avoided addressing it by immediately deflecting the blame onto Reader so his emotions and conscience could remain completely untainted by regret or doubt.

Then there's the other moment (more towards the beginning) where his expression fluctuates right after the line where Reader states he "can't do this" (before he removes her pants) and Reader herself makes note on the fact that it was impossible to read the look on his face due to both the breakneck pace and stress of the situation. Now, I know that as an author you might not want to reveal any emotions Chrollo could have potentially been feeling in order to maintain the mystery of what he was thinking in this fic, and if you'd rather leave it up to the viewer or would rather not say, I definitely get it and completely understand. However, I will not lie when I say I am itching to hear your opinion on the issue, and if you yourself had ever personally envisioned Chrollo to feel a certain type of way when writing those particular moments. Was he making those faces due to stirrings of guilt or regret? Were those expressions being formed from things like confusion (maybe at his lack of self control) or annoyance at Reader or himself? Was it some strange sense of pity or something akin to stoic condescending sorrow in the face of Reader's pathetic helplessness that made him make those subtle faces? If you're cool with offering any answers, I can tell you I'd be dying to know <3

Oh, 'non, this is such a thoughtful comment I would feel awful for not at least trying to explain or offering up some thoughts for you.

I think Chrollo might have some regret that their first time was not the fantasy he'd probably gone over in his head, but not actual guilt. He would easily, in his mind, justify what he's done because he tried to be "good" about it for so long.

His regret would be that it impacts him, and how the experience went for him, and how your inevitable traumatized reaction to it will impact him. It's regret, yes, but it's a greedy regret.

But as far as guilt, no, not really. Reader might wish he did. Reader would probably even pick up on his regret and plaster a fantasy where he regrets doing it for non-selfish reasons, just to make it more tolerable. Pretending is easier, sometimes.

Perhaps confusion, but not in the sense that he's confused at himself--reader saying he "can't" means that they have fundamentally misunderstood him, and who he is, and what he can do to them or anyone else. And it's perhaps that misunderstanding which led to this situation in the first place, where reader felt like they could push and push and push and push him, and not have consequences.

A misunderstanding which leads him to remind the reader:

“I’m a thief, love. I can take whatever I want.”

And he does just that.

I hope that explanation makes sense! Thank you for the thoughtful comments, pinning this to my figurative fridge, it makes me kick my legs (but literally) when people talk about my writing and it's clear that you've put tons of thought into something. Like.. .ahhh it just feels nice, thank you again for this message!

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screaming-universe · 3 months

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*breaks through wall*

🐺🐺🐺🐈🐈🐈✨✨✨🌌🌌🐉🐉🐉

( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

Hi! :3c (make me write game)

🐺 Werewolf Hunters

Herne, it turned out, had volunteered Eddie as unwilling participant for the net-throwing practice of the hunters in training. Eddie did not want to hate them—they were children after all, maybe sixteen at most—but it was hard. Some of them looked at him with fear, the lies of their elders making him a monster to them. Some of them looked at their trainers with fear and Eddie wanted to do nothing more than get them out of here. Some of them though positively leered at him and Eddie was suddenly glad for the guards posted on the kennel room. It had never occurred to him that they might be there to keep Buck and Tommy and him inside, but also overzealous hunter trainees outside. "Ryan, no weapons, we need them alive for now!" Herne yelled at a boy who stared at Eddie in a way that made his skin itch and who held a net and spear up as if this was a gladiator fight in Ancient Rome. Buck had once gone a research deep dive on the different kinds of gladiators and told Eddie all about it during a slow shift. Retiarius, Eddie recalled. That kind of gladiator fought with a net and a trident and Ryan came pretty close to it.

🐈 Werecat AU

"Hey Tommy," Buck found himself saying one evening. They were in bed, Tommy spooning him, and Buck was so comfortable that he would have fallen asleep already if it hadn't been for the thought haunting his mind. He had almost forgotten about it but the afternoon they spent with the Diazes and seeing Eddie and Tommy all up in each other's space like that; until there was no space between them left, had dragged it back to the front of his mind. "Y-You said that you weren't sure it's over."Tommy just made a confused noise and pulled Buck even tighter against him. It was dirty move that was bound to make Buck melt against him and usually let him fall asleep quickly. But not tonight. "Wha-d'you mean?" Tommy mumbled against Buck’s neck when he'd woken up some more after Buck remained tense in his arms. "You said you weren't sure it's over," Buck repeated, heart racing for some reason. "The courtship between me and Eddie." "Oh Evan," Tommy sighed against his neck and placed a quick kiss right there, "that's not a conversation I'd chosen to have in the middle of the night."

✨ Space AU 1

Being called like this to appear in front of his parents was basically its own dark omen: nothing good had ever come of it. Nothing good had ever come of any interaction with his parents, a dark part of Buck’s brain whispered and today he wasn’t inclined to disagree. He was ushered into his mother’s study and there sat his parents: Lady Margaret and Lord Philip of House Buckley. Buck would rather be anywhere else. “Evan!” his mother said with the fakest smile she had ever managed. “We have secured a marriage for you!” He could feel the blood freeze in his veins but with the very next sentence his mother stopped his heart. “You will be courting Lord Edmundo of House Diaz when the next season begins.” Edmundo—Eddie—Diaz? The man he had been sneaking around with—quite literally—because their love was forbidden? Or at least he had thought it was. Buck let out a slightly hysterical giggle before he could suppress it fully.

🌌 Space AU 2

Hen was working another shift in the med bay with Chim when she—Chimney’s neighbour, Karen—walked in. She still was a mystery: when Hen looked at her directly, all she saw was a woman. Not that Hen was complaining because Karen was certainly a woman Hen liked to look at. But out of the corner of her eye Hen could sometimes catch a sparkle that no human should emit. Trying to figure out what Karen’s deal was had led nowhere so far, at least not by just looking. And Chimney had only shrugged and grinned when Hen had shared her observations. He had been no help at all. “She’s an astrophysicist,” he had said instead, as if that would explain anything. “I think you might get along really well.”

🐉 Would you still love me if I was a wyrm?

The vest, as much as Eddie hated to admit it, did have some advantages. It kept the medal safe, for one. Buck had taken one look at him clutching the now much bigger - at least to him - medal to his chest with both hands, and then picked up a leather cord and cut it to the right length. When he'd put out his hand, Eddie had immediately dropped the medal into it and he was rewarded for it by the new necklace that he now wore. Usually though he wore it under his uniform and there it was safe. Now he had a new kind of uniform, he supposed. And as much as he disliked the way the neon yellow looked against his copper scales, he would never have set fire to it when nobody was looking. Because this vest had Buck's handwriting all over it. Eddie did not know how he had missed it but after all the excitement of the day he had passed out curled up in Buck's lap pretty early when Buck had sat down with- oh. When Buck had sat down with the boxes he had some sewing equipment and fabric in. And he'd asked to measure Eddie before that but Buck was a curious guy and so he hadn't questioned it.

I'd like to thank my beta Buff who I just throw the snippets at and who saves me from confusing save and safe allkjkdfdj

#scream back at the universe #cannibalhellhound #my writing #make me write game #full moon shift au #werecat au #would you still love me if i was a wyrm?#buddie <3 #buddie #henren #bet #buddietommy #polyfire

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sercezgazety · 7 months

Text

So there’s a cot, and the mattress is hard and the sheets are disgusting to the touch. No bedbugs this time, which is certainly a welcome change. The sink dispenses cold water only, and there’s a crapper next to it. It stinks, and the entire room stinks with it, but it’s not that different from any other part of the complex, and you’re quite used to unpleasant smells. No windows, but how could there be? You’re underground, with several tons of concrete above you. There’s also a shelf on the wall, and it’s almost facetious how large it is, given that you’re allowed only two books at the same time, and one of them needs to be of religious nature. It’s crucial to pick the thickest ones, at least they can last for more than half a day. You briefly think that religious literature might come in handy if you run out of toilet paper, though if anyone caught you doing that, there would be no more books of any kind, so it’s not worth it.

You don’t really have much space to write; they give you a sheet of paper or two, but only if you nag them for long enough. You used to get correspondence, all those inquiries from journalists who wanted to squeeze the story dry, the other side of the page was almost always blank. But the flow of mail stopped slowly as you never answered, and perhaps you should have, perhaps you should have fed them some nonsense so that they’d write back and you’d have more paper at your disposal. Then again, you’d be required to waste an entire sheet on a response. Perhaps you could have demanded they sent you more but, frankly, what difference does it make? Your memory’s more than enough, and every formula, you can picture clearly. You don’t have anything else to look at anyway, and there are always walls to write on if the calculations get too long to keep track of. Destruction of property, Brando calls it, but what is he going to do, really? Jail you?

Son of a bitch has your pen confiscated.

Nonetheless, you do some of your best work in solitary. It was supposed to be a punishment, you assume, and yes, there are some minor downsides. You miss being able to shave, though after the first couple days, the stubble stops itching. By then, you’ve turned your face into a bloody mess, an accomplishment in itself, given how short your fingernails are. You don’t remember biting them, but you never have. There’s no mirror, so you can’t see what you look like, but you can hazard a guess, and it’s not like it matters anyway. Your original glasses got shattered on the third day, maybe fourth, and it wasn’t even an angry inmate, just your very own tremors as the withdrawal started. It was the one thing other convicts seemed almost sympathetic to, as if you ever had any need for their pity. Afterwards, when they finally untied you, and you regained your ability to grab and hold things without involuntarily spilling everything, one taught you to drink tea that was so strong and bitter you never learned to suppress a grimace after taking a sip. Maybe it was the caffeine, or the placebo effect, perhaps merely the passage of time. But it almost helped, even if it gave your smile an odd brownish tint. Still, a lovely set of teeth, compared to the methheads, and you take what you can get.

They gave you some cheap replacement glasses at this travesty of an infirmary. Those weren’t even properly fitted, and you were able to see something but not much. They lasted for about two weeks, you think, and the next ones were pretty good, allowed you to read without squinting, but they didn’t survive much longer. It was a tense time, some hierarchies being set up, boundaries established, and you’re still unsure how your nose managed to survive unbroken. But that pair of glasses, you do miss. The one you’re wearing now does a half-decent job, you guess. You hope it’s the last one, but you already know it won’t be.

You’re used to not seeing sunlight, and actually, they let you get some fresh air every couple days, which is probably more than it would have been if you were in your own basement. So, not an issue. Later on, you break all the fingers in an inmate’s hand while in the yard, and now they don’t let you out of here anymore, even for communal meals. You’re buried here for good, it would seem, but he had it coming, it was mostly self-defense, and you still think it was worth it. Especially not having to watch them eat, no longer being forced to suppress your gag reflex at the sounds they make. But you do miss the access to the library, however ridiculous its contents were, and you do miss the lights going out. The lightbulb here keeps buzzing.

It feels like it’s getting louder every time you notice. It’s buzzing and buzzing, on and on, like a fly you can’t catch, a mosquito set on driving you insane with itchiness or maybe burrowing right in your ear, yes, that would explain it, and it’s like a bone saw but without half its appeal. At first, you assumed it was just screwed in wrong, and all you had to do was adjust the angle, but no such luck. You lack the proper tools or even rubber gloves to attempt anything else, though you think you could do without the gloves and the shock would be brief, provided you had anything, tweezers, clippers, a pin even, anything that would allow you to operate on the wiring with modicum of precision. You try anyway, and yes, the shock is brief and barely noticeable, but except for frying a couple of nerve cells, you don’t achieve absolutely anything.

And it’s still better than general population, you know it is. Those are troglodytes, half-illiterate, and besides, you’ve had more than enough of taking shits with cellmates staring at you. They communicate through grunts and snores, and they have one interesting thought per year, not unlike people on the outside. It’s insane to call solitary confinement punishment, and you know that if they ever let you out of here, you’ll quickly need to do something that will land you back in private quarters. They really think this, this, giving you a room of your own, is going to break your spirits. It’s ludicrous. Just goes to show how much they themselves must be dependent on contact with the rest of the primates. You, on the other hand, don’t need this kind of distraction. Never have. You do your work best alone, you’ve always known that. Look where the momentary lapse of judgment has landed you. So yes, you much prefer the current arrangement to ill-advised attempts at camaraderie.

But they really could turn off the lights from time to time. They shouldn’t waste electricity like that. Your eyes are stinging, and the lamp keeps fucking buzzing, loud and incessant, and on day sixteen of being completely unable to leave — because yes, you’re counting, though it’s mostly relying on when they bring the tray since there’s no day or night, nothing to mark the passage of time except for food intake and bowel movements — on day sixteen, you break it so it just stops making that infernal sound.

It doesn’t. It’s just dark in the cell now, but whatever wires were frying there before, they haven’t stopped. It’s like you got prongs buried in your neck. You imagine this is what one hears when seated on an electric chair, at least when it’s utilized properly. You didn’t hear anything when Brando sat you there on your first day, long before the withdrawal started. You’re actually glad the miscreant did his little charade immediately after your arrival, at least he didn’t get any satisfaction from seeing your jitters and mistaking them for fear. You asked whether they disinfected the surface, given what happens to sphincter at some point of the process, but didn’t get any answer, just got shoved into the seat. All you could do was stifle a yawn theatrically, but it did seem to get the message across. Maybe this is Brando’s payback, maybe he’s trying to give you a full experience now, the electrocution and a burial in one neat package.

It’s dark, though, and you take what you can get. They replace the bulb within the next twenty hours, but for a moment, it’s dark, and you take what you can get, even with the buzzing. You dream then, you suppose; the guard tells you you were screaming, though that’s unlikely. He’ll come, you assure him, your voice perfectly lucid. The man has no idea what you’re talking about, and, frankly, neither do you. You do know you woke up covered in sweat. Next shower’s in four days, and the noise goes on but now somehow louder.

You always hated this kind of sounds, unnecessary and uncontrollable. You remember how irrationally you started acting once with that leaking faucet, and it took him three bloody days to do something about it. Perhaps he just enjoyed watching you grip the edge of the table till your knuckles turned white; you certainly wouldn’t put it past him. Perhaps he waited for the word please, as if this, him taking care of a simple household chore, was something you should beg for. Perhaps wanted an admission, a verbal confirmation you didn’t possess the ability to fix it and that the sound was bothering you (he must have noticed, even he wasn’t that unobservant). Maybe he intended to make you feel dependent on him, like when a dog tugs on a leash and imagines it’s walking its owner. Almost adorable, if it weren’t for the tap-tapping, every hour, every minute, and not even at regular intervals. He fixed it, eventually, and then, in turn, demanded you took care of the microwave doors. When you threw the thing away, got genuinely angry, as if that were something important.

continue reading about Herbert spiralling and obsessing over Dan more and more here

#for a moment I was happy that at least someone was reading the story because there were some sparse new kudos #and then it turned out my husband wanted to be supportive so he left anonymous ones every day #re-animator #reanimator #danbert #herbert west #dan cain #daniel cain #beyond re-animator #re animator

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ectoplasmic-entity · 8 months

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I would love a hurt/comfort oneshot where dark Danny has nightmare (maybe the event of his family and friends dying) and the reader comforts him.

A classic hurt/comfort trope :) This allowed me the opportunity to write and express a slightly more vulnerable Dan.

It's pretty interesting to see him devolve that way, slowly peel the layers back. I should do it more.

I hope you like it!

Genre: Gen + Hurt/Comfort

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: Implied/referenced character death, slightly suggestive

Words: 1.9k+

His muscles burn. His eyes sting with desperate tears. He's in pain. Too much.

It hurts too much.

He can’t stop now. He’s almost there.

He can already perceive the odor of the charred flesh. It unpleasantly itches his nose. It leaves an awful mix of chalk and salt in his mouth.

Not a sound from any of them.

No.

He can still reach them. Reach them in spite of the blazing inferno that’s upon them. Time. There’s still time… please.

His foot catches on something. He can’t stop himself, his own kinetic energy continues to propel him forward. Down to the cold, hard ground.

Pain flares throughout his body. He’s sure he feels something break inside. He no longer has the strength to pick himself up.

NO!

In a blink. That’s all it takes. A deafening roar blasts his ears. A sheet of white floods his vision as a wave of deadly heat washes over him. He can’t feel himself anymore, there’s nothing left. Floating. Not even a ghost.

---

Dan wakes with a wheezing breath, swallowing deeply and holds it. He doesn’t move, the darkness of the room too still for his liking. He’s right where he should be. But… it feels empty. Uncontrollable shudders course through him, all the way down to his very core. He’s not usually this shaky.

He immediately stops his train of thought. Not tonight. Likewise, he’s already having a hard time sleeping. Even though he sinks into the comfort of the bedsheets. It’s a warm summer night, with some light rain pattering outside. Best of all, you hug him from behind in your sleep.

He still can’t relax. Dan grips the sheet tightly, squeezing the nonexistent life out of it. A tight, sickly sensation boils in his gut. He shivers violently again. Dan tenses as he inexplicably becomes cold, cold biting all the way down to his ‘bones’. Faintly glowing eyes slowly close to ease the feeling. For a moment or two, he’s calm. The coldness quickly fades away and leaves nothing but a mild numbness. Without warning, a boiling hot suddenly jumps to the back of his throat. Acidic and scratchy, Dan abruptly sits up with a hand to his throat.

Panting heavily and uncomfortably swallows the burning sensation back down. It’s persistent, always coming right back up as soon as it goes down. Beads of sweat form and drip down his face, an equally uncomfortably hot flash floods his face. Dan does a full body shudder; his core pulsates with rapidly increasing speed.

“Fuck…” Dan mumbles out, his throat burns like he’s going to be sick.

Oblivious to him, his abrupt awakening also shakes you awake. The sheets ruffle quietly behind Dan as you sit up to gain your bearings.

Unwilling to make a potential mess on the bed, Dan turns to the side. The frame creaks as he throws his legs over the edge. He bends over with his head in his hands, fingers curl deeply into his hair for a sense of control. Dan’s body quivers with held back breaths.

Right behind him, you stare blearily at him, confused as to why he’s up so late. The bed shifts unevenly, you don’t hear anything else.

Suppressing a yawn, you rub your eyes. Once you take your hands away, you see Dan’s silhouette on the bed. Right on the very edge, his posture stiff. Though, you feel small tremors vibrate through the bed.

You realize Dan didn’t get up with the intention to leave the bed. It’s too quiet. He’s not the type to dawdle around, either. Your hands lightly fist into the sheets, your mouth moves with a soft, shaky breath. You remain silent, unsure of how to approach him if he’s in that state. He’s never been good at accepting help. Or even comfort from others.

A heaviness settles in your chest with realization. You hold a hand up, it hangs hesitantly in the air. Dan must’ve… had that nightmare again. It’s been so long since you met him, even from the first meeting it's obvious how it bothers him. Fidgety no matter how much calmness and control he exhibits. Turning away, hiding from others. How his usually sharp red eyes lose their lustrous glow.

Finally, a soft breath to calm yourself, you lean forward and place one hand on his tense shoulder.

“Dan?”

Your voice is soft with worry.

No response. Dan doesn’t move at the sound of your voice. All you can make out are very small sounds, barely comprehensible. You bite your lip, your body shudders in uncertainty. Slowly, you sit up as to not disturb him and place your other hand on his other shoulder. You tilt your body forward and gently lean into him.

You feel Dan’s tension melt away almost immediately. His body grows loose, he’s vaguely aware you’re awake now. His body rises up and down with every heavy breath. Dan’s ghost core hums softly in spite of his mood, the hum reaches you and your chest thrums in return.

Taking it as a sign that Dan will let you get closer, you sit up higher on your knees. Carefully, you loop your arms around his neck and intertwine your hands at his chest. You bury your face into the crook of Dan’s neck, the familiar firmness of his muscular physique and a distinct scent that smells of fire and burnt cinnamon.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Dan says thickly. He’s been holding back.

“Funny you say that, when you shook me awake because of a nightmare,” you say lightly. You want to try to broach the subject early on before Dan can internalize it.

Dan tenses under you, you hear him do a sharp intake. You can imagine his hands clenching the blanket in a powerful grip, easily squeezing it with ease.

“I wouldn’t call it a nightmare,” Dan counters, something very faintly rumbles in his throat, “it… wasn’t a nightmare…”

His sentence falters, his breath shakes with emotion. A flash of heat rises up in his body so suddenly that you flinch in discomfort. Then you huff loudly when it spills over to you, a painfully tight, piercing stings your arms. You shudder as you take breaths to calm the feverish fervor.

“I’ve been with you a long time, known you even longer,” you start, “I know when you have nightmares. It’s pretty obvious when you try to hide it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I should be over it by now,” Dan’s voice grows hard, “it happened a long time ago.”

Your hands tighten in frustration. He could be so stubborn when it comes to feelings, having suppressed them to the point it physically hurts him. You lift your head slightly and speak in Dan’s ear.

“You are clearly not ‘over it’.”

It sounds cruel, you feel you have to say it. Make Dan hear the fact that this is bothering him more than he’d like to admit. From someone he trusts and… loves.

A soft growl of warning breaks the silence. Dan’s frame rumbles under you.

“You are being persistently annoying about it,” Dan growls out, fangs visible. “It’s not…”

He stops, he inhales deeply and harshly. It sounds too close to a dry sniffle. Emotions, as dull as they may be, well up in him. A constant reminder of what he used to be. Thank fuck it wasn’t light right now, or his scars would be visible as well. Dan duly wishes the darkness could actually swallow him up whole.

You push yourself off of him and sit back down. You aren’t done yet, but it’d be easier if you’re face-to-face with Dan. Several seconds pass without a word, you don’t make an attempt to nudge him to turn to face you. The silence stretches to an eerie chorus before Dan finally turns his head to look at you, eyes glowing a bit brighter.

You reach for Dan’s hand. “Come here.”

Rough, firm fingers intertwine with yours as Dan settles himself back onto the bed. The mattress yet again shifts with the familiar weight, you feel yourself relax slightly. Your breaths quieter and the burning tension fades from your muscles. Both of your hands tingle with past affections and the need to display those affections again. Running and tracing your fingers over each other’s bodies, whispering stories of marks and scars alike. Hush tones to soak at the moment. The warmth from Dan’s fire ghost core that basks you both in a soft, comforting glow.

Moving closer to him, you loop your arms around his neck again. You lightly pull him with you as you lay down on the bed, your head thumps on the pillow. Dan does similarly, eyes flicker in patience, his body still with quiet contemplation.

Cautiously, Dan wraps his arm around you. Under your arm and down around your back, his hand grasps around the other side of your body. His sharp nails lightly trickle along you, ticklish but not uncomfortable, he’s careful to not dig them into you. You smile lightly, a finger caresses Dan’s face, running along the sharp cheekbone.

“I’d rather have woken up like this,” Dan says first, he pulls you closer to his chest. “You’re quite the sight to see in the mornings.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply, your eyes avert their gaze, “the sun catches your body in a way that’s irresistible.”

“What can I do? No one can ever keep their eyes off of me.” Dan smirks.

He looks down at you to catch your eyes. Your expression as you melt in bliss under his intense gaze.

Instead, he notices that you intentionally look away. Your brows crease with thought, your lips taut.

A low groan emits from his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say softly, “it’s your story to tell.”

A pause passes.

“You know you can’t bottle it up forever, Dan.” You reach up and gently touch his face. He leans into it without protest.

Dan shrugs at that. Ghosts and emotions are a volatile mix. Some of them fixed on the moment they died, that moment permanently etching into their being, growing into an obsession. Others exist harmoniously without an obsession dangerously driving them. At most, their powers amplify their emotions.

“I’m… glad you woke up.” Dan relents, he shifts his weight around to get more cozy. “I usually deal with it alone, but…”

“Me being here made it easier?” A jolt of excitement shoots through you.

“Mm…” Dan nods, his eyes lock with yours at last. Piercing red sends a pleasurable tingle down your spine. You become very aware of his fingers digging deeper into you, your body quivers. He grins widely, his sharp canines dangerously stick out from his lips. “Comfy?”

“Considering that I’m pinned under you, quite,” you reply with a mischievous undertone.

Dan’s form trembles with quiet chuckles. You remove your arms from his neck to let him move about freely. You unconsciously fold them up against his body, paying more attention to the sound of his voice. It’s soothing to your ears, your mind even. Deep and smooth.

“Your voice,” Dan says suddenly.

“My voice?” You repeat. Did he read your mind, somehow?

“I want to listen to it,” Dan continues, his ears tilt down. “It lulls me to sleep.”

“A story, you mean?” You huff softly in amusement. “I’d need to get a book then.”

“You’re not getting out of bed.” Dan rolls you over on to your back, he lays himself on top of you. A warm tension forms now that your bodies are together, much closer so. You stare in exasperation, your mind already blanking. A full, blissful sensation fills your chest.

“I’m sure you can think of something…” Dan inches his face close to yours, pulling you into a kiss before your mind can comprehend another thought.

#danny phantom #fanfiction #dan phantom #dan phantom x reader #character x reader #gender neutral reader #dan phantom x gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort #gen fic #tumblr writers #fanfiction community #fanfiction blog #dark danny #phanfic #dp fic #danny phantom fanfiction

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cricketnationrise · 5 months

Note

Hello! Would you be willing to write George Cooper from the Tortall universe? If you'd prefer a different character that's fine I just would love to read something of yours in this fandom. ♥️

Dancing Dove, 11:23am

of COURSE i will write you some George Cooper! here's a little moment of the first time he invites Alan to the Dancing Dove - hope you like it!

read the rest of the ficlets here!

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

before the noon bell, dancing dove

George was just getting back from a stroll around the Lower City when his Gift tapped him on the shoulder, saying pay attention, daft boy. He looked around for the source of his Gift’s focus and couldn’t help a delighted grin spreading across his face when he recognized a shock of red hair and purple eyes picking their way through the marketplace crowd. The youth was accompanied by Gareth of Naxen—the younger one—unless George missed his guess. So the lad was in page training, then, he mused as the pair stopped at a stall with armor and weapons for sale. Grin widening with impishness, George slid through the throng of people and tapped the small red-head on the shoulder.

The lad startled badly and turned to look up at him. George was momentarily caught in the sharp gaze of those strange purple eyes, but recovered quickly enough that the page didn’t notice.

“So—it’s the young sprout with purple eyes. I was wonderin’ if you’d fallen into a well.”

To his pleased surprise, the lad grinned back at him. “I’ve been at the palace.”

Master Gareth interrupted then, breaking off their conversation with his suspiciousness. George introduced himself with a bow and, on a whim he’d never be able to explain to himself, invited them for a drink at the Dove. By all rights, he should have stayed in public, shouldn’t have brought two pages—one of which would likely be Prime Minister—into the heart of his kingdom. But he had a good feeling about the little red-haired lad, and besides, the invitation made his Gift curl up like a contented cat in a sunbeam.

He signaled to Solom for ale and lemonades and settled in with Gary and Alan at his customary table, subtly waving off his curious inner circle of deputies. Gary’s questioning was expected, his sharp mind on display, guessing George’s real position within minutes of sitting down. Alan stayed quiet, sipping his drink and seeming to just take it all in. His face betrayed nothing, no sign of approval or distaste as George named himself as Corus’ King of Thieves, the Lower CIty’s Rogue. It was frustrating to be unable to get a read on the young sprout—the lad’s own Gift canceled his own out. Oddly, he wanted to know everything about Alan, was itching to know what Alan thought of George’s life; it was clear he was waiting for all the facts before giving any sort of reaction.

“I like you—” Gary said then, interrupting George’s train of thought. “For all you’re a thief.”

George laughed. “And I like you, Gary—for all you’re a noble. Friends, then?” They sealed it with a handshake. “And you, Alan?” he asked, using every bit of his hard-earned diligence to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

“I…want some more lemonade,” he said, pouring himself a fresh tankard, the hint of smirk hovering around his mouth. George couldn’t help but smile at that; the lad would be keeping George on his toes, for certain. He heard the noon bell ring out over the city and slumped internally; it wouldn’t do for them to spend their whole afternoon in the Court of the Rogue, no matter how much George was enjoying himself.

“You’d best be gettin’ back.” He couldn’t help but make his position clear before they left, though. “If you need anything, send word through Stefan—he works in the palace stables. You’ll find me here most of the time, and if not, ask old Solom. He’ll fetch me quick enough.”

Both pages shook his hand after standing; George suppressed a jolt when the feel of Alan’s hand seemed to send a shock up his arm.

“You’ll be seeing us, then,” Alan promised with all the gravitas of a vow of fealty. “Good day to you.”

George watched them leave with a smile on his face. He had a distinct feeling that the next few years were going to be quite interestin’ indeed.

#cricket writes #mkaugust #ficlet fest 500 #tortall #song of the lioness era #george cooper #alanna of trebond

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soupbabe · 2 years

Note

Percy and Maggie enjoying My Cousin Vinny together?

We joked how they would know every line in the movie.

Girls Night (Percy Jones + Magnolia Sinclair)

Percy and Maggie have a movie night.

I hope I did Percy justice!! It was fun writing for her ♡

Percy Jones belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood !!

Percy's arrival in Ambrose traveled fast within the town. From Bo to Vincent to Lester and to finally Maggie, all of the Sinclairs welcomed her to their home with open arms. She was a good change to happen to the quiet town, but as days went by, Maggie began brewing up an idea.

It's safe to say that Bo wasn't the only one itching to know everything about the novelist.

Maggie scoured the Sinclair home before stopping in the dining room. Sitting at the head of the table was Percy; her hair was tied back and her glasses reflected the walls of text from her laptop. "Hey Percy, do you have plans tonight?" The brunette glanced from her computer to the blonde and groaned. "I will if I can't clear out these emails..." Maggie pulled out the chair across from her, resting her head on her propped up hands. "Well, if you get your work done early, I thought we'd have a girls night! I've always wanted to have one and I think it'd be a nice way to know each other."

Percy hesitated before resuming to her computer. "What do you have planned?" Maggie smiled, "Just a movie night down at the theater. I talked to Bo and it turns out you have good taste." Percy's brow quirked upwards, "Really now?" "Really! It just so happens that My Cousin Vinny is also my favorite movie. We can camp out in the theater." At the sound of the title, Percy immediately shut her laptop and gave her full attention to Magnolia.

Her smile was soft and her eyes lit up, "Count me in."

Later that night, the Ambrose movie theater was alive. The girls showed up in their best attire: a matching purple and white PJ set for Maggie and Bo's old Johnny Cash tour shirt and grey sweatpants for Percy. The shorter woman was quick to grab all the necessary snacks and set the movie up for her new friend. "How often are you in here?" Percy gazed around the cinema, a smile dawned her lips as she admired the vintage decor. "A lot. When you have a whole place like this to yourself, it'd be a shame not to take advantage of it."

As the movie started, the girls mostly remained quiet. Though, they couldn't help talking in between smaller scenes. From sharing small behind the scenes facts to Magnolia giggling whenever Mona Lisa came onto the big screen. The energy was light and fun, and it all came ahead in the scene.

Mona Lisa Vito was called up to be an expert witness.

Mindlessly, Percy mumbled along with the movie. "No. The defense is wrong." Maggie giggled and lightly nudged her, "Are you sure?" "I'm positive." Line by line they acted along the film; their increasing giggles became hard to suppress. Percy smiled at Maggie's overacting as she took her hands. "Thank you, Miss Vito. No more questions. Thank you very, very much.

You've been a lovely, lovely, witness." At the drop of Percy's hands they broke into chuckles.

"Y'know Magnolia, this idea wasn't too bad." The Sinclair smiled. "Please, call me Maggie. "

#magnolia sinclair #my oc #percy jones #not my oc #friends oc #house of wax oc #oc fanfic #house of wax 2005

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justlulu · 3 years

Text

In The Wolf’s Lair

Warnings: dub/con, compulsion, underage sex, smut

Klaus Mikaelson wasn't used to being rejected, not when women had been throwing themselves at him for a millennium, but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy a game of cat and mouse once in a while. A thousand years had taught him patience, persistence, he could wait an incredibly long time to get what he wanted, and eventually, as always, he got it. That is what kept him going throughout the long wait he had to endure to break his curse.

If there was one thing he could not stand, though, that was being made to look like a fool. His troubled childhood had given him enough material to write a whole library about shame and mortification -his own so-called father was to blame for that-, he wouldn't accept even the slightest form of humiliation from anyone.

Klaus wasn't a man to play with. They-she-would find out the hard way.

When she entered the bar that night, a short dress exposing way more skin than she would usually allow-"I look like a total slut, Damon!", but she was on a mission so she would stick to the plan- and a sultry smile on her lips, he acted as if he hadn't expected her to show up. He thought he should be offended by her apparent lack of credit to his intelligence. Did she actually think he didn't understand her intentions?

What she didn't know was that he knew everything about Elena's escape and had already sent two of his hybrids to go look for her. He wouldn't let her know, tonight they would play by his rules.

He offered her a drink and she made a show of contemplating whether to take it or not, as usual.

He watched her take a sip, smiling sweetly at him through the glass, and smelled the perfume he had noticed she only wore on special occasions, mentally scoffing at the idea of him only being special to her when she planned to trick him. The first few times she had presented herself to him out of the blue, forcing conversations to keep him occupied, he had let her believe her tactics of distracting him from whatever poor and likely-to-fail plan they had come up with was working, hoping she would at least enjoy his usually unwelcomed company -joke on him-, and as much as he tried to suppress the feeling, a part of him still wished that was true, but he knew better than to give in to hope. This time, he would beat her at her own game.

He knew she felt something for him, and he knew she was repressing that feeling, whatever it was, because of her friends. She was scared of what they would think of her, scared of betraying them, but that was not enough to justify the way she was playing with his-absolutely obvious-emotions.

She only realized she had made a fatal mistake when his pupils focused on hers, and she could not reject his demands. Her whole body froze when she realized she had completely lost control of her free will, and regretted not taking the vervain that morning. How could she forget when she knew she was walking straight in the wolf's lair?

Her words were robotic when she repeated his instructions, hands sweating at the prospect of what was about to happen-if she was human, she would have died from a heart attack-, and when she was done, he had to fight the itching thought of taking her right there, on the counter, in front of the whole pub, in a show of dominance that, he was convinced, would effectively put her back into her place. Luckily for her, he was feeling generous enough to grant her some privacy for what he had in store for her.

He took her hand and led her to the local's toilets, where he had to compel a woman to leave them alone before she could comment his presence in the lady's restroom. He turned his attention to his pray as soon as she was out.

He didn't bother indulging her with his usual pleasantries (she doesn't deserve them anyway); instead, he scooped her up on the sink at inhuman speed and raised the hem of her dress upwards, spreading her thighs and moving his hand between them. She would have pushed him away, screamed at him what a sick monster he was, if it wasn't for the way her body reacted to him, telling her this was what it needed. Her body seamed to have a mind of its own, and it fought with her rational thoughts until it managed to shush them, forcing her to obey its every want. It was needy, it craved something it had been denied for way too long, and it was taking it now.

The lack of inhibition had her accept his touch, spreading her legs wider to give him more room. He rubbed her through her cotton underwear, making the moist damp the cloth, before moving it to the side to press against her bare sex, satisfied with how quickly he got it wet. He teased her entrance while his lips sucked on her neck, creating a new mark every time one faded. She moaned right in his ear and for a moment the thought of someone opening the door made her uncomfortable, but her mind was soon brought back to him when he started sliding two fingers into her hot channel.

Caroline gripped the counter when he accelerated his speed after adding another finger, stretching her on his hand. She rested the back of her head on the mirror behind her, biting down on her lip to keep herself from screaming too loud. This would not do.

"None of that now, love" His left hand raised to grip her chin, thumb freeing her bottom lip from her teeth, while his hypnotizing eyes locked on hers. "Don't hold back, I want to hear how much you're loving this." Her brain registered his order, and in an instant, her mouth formed an O shape, uttering a shameless whine under his gaze; he grinned at the sight, finally unmasking the repulsed act she wanted to sell.

He fingered her for way longer than he had initially intended, enjoying the way she would grip his forearms in a silent demand to give her a release. Instead, he kept edging her, slowing down every time he felt her core clench around his digits, while his teeth played with her earlobe. She would have to work for her prize.

"Do you ever fantasize about me, sweetheart? In the safety of your room, when you're certain no one can discover your filthy desires?" She nodded without a second thought, his compulsion forcing an honesty he would probably never get from her any other way.

"And, tell me love, do you masturbate as well, while you do it?" He felt his cock twitch in his pants when she nodded again, his brain picturing the blond vampire naked on her bed, trashing at the euphoric peak of pleasure her own hand would take her to, imagining it was his instead.

She blushed a deep red when he suggested she show him how she touched herself, slowly removing his long fingers from her pulsing walls and taking a step back to have a better look.

His gaze was on her the whole time, alternating between her face and her hand moving between her thighs. "Eyes on me, love." She was not sure whether she was more humiliated, or aroused by the situation. He had compelled her inhibitions away, the ones that had protected her from giving in all this time, but he had not forced her to feel the way she did; if this was turning her on, she was the only one to blame. She tried not to dwell on it too much as she kept rubbing two fingers up and down on her clit, unable to avoid his arrogant smirk when she couldn't help the little whimpers that left her mouth.

He was back on her the moment he sensed she was about to come, replacing her hand with his and chuckling at her eagerness when he kept it completely still.

"If you want it so bad, you'll have to take it." He set the challenge, an encouraging hand squeezing her thigh as he waited for her to move. She did so soon enough, bracing herself on his shoulders for support, before her hips started riding his still fingers. He gripped her hair and yanked her head back to look at her face as she fucked herself on his hand, a victorious grin on his lips. Her breaths became heavy when he attached an unmoving thumb to her bundle of nerves, giving her something to grind on. At last, when she was already in the throes of her orgasm, he started moving his long fingers upwards at an unexpected brutal pace, his knuckles beating her wet skin in a embarrassing splashing sound, vehemently rubbing her g-spot until her whole body stiffened, and she squirted a whole lot of fluids on his hand and on the marble counter she was sitting on. Her walls kept spasming when he removed his fingers from her sex, trying to recover from the most potent orgasm she'd ever had. She chocked a gasp when she looked down and saw that her panties, which had never been removed, had taken a darker shade.

"You've made quite a mess, love." He laughed at her shocked expression and internally cheered at the implied knowledge that no one had ever made her come like that-not that he would expect it-. He adjusted the ridiculously wet cloth back on her, and took the opportunity to give her over sensitive clit a tortuous caress as the fabric sticked to her flesh, which made her hips jolt in a vain attempt to escape him. He proceeded to raise his drenched fingers to her mouth then, flashing her a dimpled smile when she unconsciously took them in and sucked, while his other hand fixed her dress. He helped her down and steadied her when her legs trembled, but didn't let her go yet. He had to make sure about one thing first.

"Now, since you made it clear I must remain a dirty little secret, let's see how it goes if you don't remember any of this." He waited for the instructions to make their space into her head, before adding: "And, let's keep this convenient behavior next time we meet, shall we?"

When he told her to leave, she was too shocked to start a fight, so she kept her mouth shut and walked to the door, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he called her again.

"Oh, and Caroline?" She didn't even try to escape his gaze at this point, looking at him with pleading eyes. "No vervain when you come to me." His lips curled upwards as she watched the last glimmer of hope vanish from her eyes, before she turned and left.

He was not sure if all of this had made him feel any better, but he knew it had taught her a lesson.

A lesson he had to refresh the next time she presented herself at him, not even a week later.

She had dared knocking on his door that afternoon, beautiful as always, a radiant smile on her lips as he let her in. He offered her a drink, again, but this time she accepted it the second he handed her the glass, no snarky remarks. She was being kinder than usual, which meant she had to keep this running long. Not that he would complain.

He indulged her in a little small talk, letting her believe she was playing her cards right, before taking things into his own hands by simply looking her straight in the eyes.

She froze, widening her eyes as she realized she wasn't on vervain -how could I forget?-, but had no time to wonder before her brain focused on his words.

"Let's make things simple, shall we? From now on, you will answer me honestly."

That was it. She answered his every question for almost twenty minutes, revealing every little detail of every single plan they had ever formulated against him and his family. So much for not betraying her friends.

Once he was sure there was nothing more he would need to know, he got comfortable on his couch, stretching his legs on the small table in front of him, and folding his arms behind his head. He looked like he had won a war.

"And pray tell me, what brings you here my dear?"

She looked as guilty as she felt.

"I came here to distract you." She could tell he already knew from the unimpressed look on his face. He frowned, feigning a curious glance.

"And how would you manage that?"

"I- " she stopped for a moment, trying to mix the words in the least dangerous way she could, dragging them hesitantly to decipher his reaction."I guess I would just let my presence waste your time."

He smirked at her thoughtful reply. He wouldn't buy it.

"Does the way you're dressed have anything to do with that?" He took a shameless look at her form, the tight shorts she was wearing could have been mistaken for a pair of underwear if not for the fabric, cut just an inch from the juncture of her legs, while the deep cleavage of her T-shirt left nothing to the imagination.

"Yes." She was careful not do add more, but gave up when he raised a questioning eyebrow, pressuring her to continue.

"I thought it would turn you on, which would make you focus on me and so distract you from anything else." She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth.

There it was, his key.

"That's what you're here for, then? To turn me on?" He slowly placed his feet back on the carpet, unfolding his arms to rest both elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin as he leant forward.

This time, she couldn't utter the word, because of how fast her mouth had gone dry. She nodded, as a wave of anxiety made its way into her stomach.

"Let's not waste your work then. Come here." He beckoned her to get closer and watched in amusement as she tugged her poor excuse of trousers down on her legs, trying to cover as much as she could afford.

He got up as well when she reached the couch, and circled her until he was behind her. He heard her heartbeat quicken. She was scared, good.

"Let's say you've already succeeded.." He played with one of her golden locks, before brushing it to the side, laying it on one shoulder to expose her creamy neck. "Should we skip to the part where I.." his mouth got so close to her ear, she could feel his lips on her skin. "..focus on you?" He had placed his hands on her sides in the meantime, digging his fingertips in the flesh her short top left exposed.

It was happening again.

Her whole body heat up when his lips moved to brush her neck, peppering her smooth skin with barely-there kisses. If she had to describe it, she'd say it was like waking up as a vampire once again, and experiencing her senses intensify.

When he took her chin in his hand to turn her face, and pressed his mouth down on hers, her mind didn't seem to find a valid enough reason to push him away. Deep down, she was aware of the fact that she wasn't reacting as she thought she would, should she ever find herself in this particular situation -yes, she had thought about it- but she couldn't quite put a finger on why.

Klaus, for his part, hadn't imagined their first kiss to be like that either. He had planned to court her for as long as it was needed, and eventually persuade her to give in and accept her feelings for him. Spontaneously.

This was not spontaneous at all, but it was still real.

She let him open her mouth with his lips, her body makings all the decisions for her, and moaned around his tongue as it dived in and stroked hers, before taking its time to explore her wet cave. His kiss put to shame every single boy she'd dated in her life; sensual to the point she could have come undone just by it. She reciprocated as much as she could, although it was obvious who was the one in control.

Caroline had always had a strong personality, which lead her behavior in her relationships as much as in everything else she did; more than once she'd been the one to make the first move with a guy, the one who'd program dates, make rules ( that she scrupulously kept hidden on her list, because she knew it was insane but how else could she keep track?!) and and make plans. She was the definition of control freak, and as much as she tried -not much, really- she couldn't hide it in the bedroom either, or she'd just never got the chance. It was nice to hand over the reins for once.

Klaus kept devouring her mouth as he flashed them to the nearest wall, pushing her against it and pressing his body on hers as she spread her legs to let him settle between them.

Her bottom lip bled when he bit it, and he was fast to lick the blood off of it. His tongue moved to her throat, where she swore she could feel his lips curve into a smile when she arched her neck to give him more room. She was too aroused to be embarrassed from it. He had been in a rush the previous time at the Grill, too keen on making her surrender, to prove a point, that he hadn't bothered taking his time to explore her body the way he had imagined many times.

He would fix that now.

He was kind enough to pull her top over her head instead of ripping it, letting it fall on the floor before attaching his lips to her chest, sucking at the tender skin to form red marks that disappeared seconds later. He took her mouth again, while his expert fingers unclasped her bra and tossed it next to the shirt, his impatient hands cupping her bare breasts as soon as they were free.

He left her mouth to savour the sweet sound of her moans when he twirled one nipple, and appreciate the way she pushed her chest in his face when he gently took it between his teeth.

He played both buds in his mouth, while her fingers curled in his short hair, until he felt her press her hips against him. He took the hint -that was what he'd been aiming for after all- and helped her out of her shorts before letting her wrap her legs around his waist.

She felt his touch everywhere, his hands stroking her cheeks, her sides, her long legs as they clenched to bring him even closer as she grinded her core against the front of his jeans to find some friction.

He followed her movements, rotating his hips between her thighs, but the tightness of his trousers was soon too frustrating to ignore, so he unfastened his belt and unzipped his jeans to push them down just enough to give his erection more room to rub against her center.

Their lips connected once again, and this time he let himself grunt in her mouth as she slid frantically on his covered member. He knew she was wet when he smelled her arousal, the thin barrier of her panties not enough to hide it from his amplified sense of smell. He dwelled on making her come right there, against the wall, but opted for something more comfortable for them both.

He placed his hands on her glutes and supported her weight as he walked to his large armchair, where he sat, placing the girl on his lap, never disconnecting their lips.

He leant backwards, and encouraged her to straddle him with her core lowering on his erection. She had control over her movements now, and didn't waist time before resuming her previous motion, sliding back and forth on his hardness. She did not remember taking her underwear off, but she was suddenly rubbings her bare sex on his covered one, leaving a dump trail on the fabric.

He had yet to take a single piece of clothing off, and having her completely naked instead, so vulnerable under his hands, before his eyes, made him feel even more powerful -if that was even possible-.

He set back and enjoyed the show.

She looks ravishing, her heavy breasts bouncing with every thrust of her hips, some of her hair sticking to her sweaty face, eyes closed and mouth slightly opened as she sustained herself with both palms on his firm chest. He wanted to capture this moment.

He pinched her tight nipples now and then, earning the delicious high pitched moans he had learned to enjoy. He was this close to filming her and showing her beloved friends how the smart blonde was coping with being the secret weapon; he'd bet the look on their faces would be priceless once they saw how she had rutted on his cock so nicely. He would have chatted about their plans between her moans, and he would have made her reveal their latest trap for him while she came with a cry on his lap. They thought they could fool him and that sole assumption amused and bugged him at the same time.

He was to be feared and respected, not played by a bunch of kids.

He moved his hands behind her to grip her cheeks in a possessive manner, printing his fingertips on her soft skin and roughly slapping it a moment later. She'd never tried, but often imagined, how a little taste of violence during sex would feel like. She knew now, and loved it enough to utter a pleased sob when his hand came in contact with her ass. He repeated the action when he noticed how it made her grind harder on him, every slap serving as a means to ease some of his rage.

The walls echoed her moans, mixed with the sharp sound of his hand landing rhythmically on her skin. He imagined how the scene would look like if his siblings were to come home; Rebekah would find it hilarious, he was certain, watching the vampire she seamed to dislike so much, being spanked as she rode his brother in their living room. Perhaps she'd stop tormenting him for having feelings for the other blonde. "I told you she'd make a good whore, Nick."

And he wouldn't have argued, not then.

Her hands curled around the fabric of his shirt as she quickened her thrusts, seeking the bliss her body longed for.

"That's it, love. Say my name." He rasped as he prepared to watch her fall apart before him.

She didn't take him too seriously, caught up in her frenzy, ignoring his request to keep rocking on him. She soon learned she should have. The control she had was nothing but an illusion, nothing more than a permission he had decided to concede her and that he could revoke whenever he deemed right. Which he did when she wouldn't obey.

She let out an uncomfortable wail when his hands grabbed her hips and abruptly stilled her movements just when she was on the verge of a deep orgasm. She tried not to lose it, furiously bucking her hips as much as she could, but uselessly so, as he raised them just enough to leave her hanging over his crotch.

She wondered how he could manage such restraint as he watched in amusement while she vainly strained to win his force and find what little contact she needed to get her release.

"No.." she lamented as her tensed thighs tried to somewhat maneuver in search of a better position. Useless, he had her blocked in his hands.

"Now now, it's rude to neglect the one person who's making you feel so good, isn't it, sweetheart?" His fingertips tapped on her hipbones as he scolded her.

She nodded, out of desperation he'd say. He wasn't satisfied though, he wanted to see how far he could lead her. So he asked:

"You should be grateful for what I'm giving you, don't you think?" As if riding his cock was a privilege not many were allowed (he would be lying if he said he could count the people who had been in her current position in the past), as if he was doing her a favor; but for her body, inexplicably greedy and starving for his touch, he was. She said yes.

He lowered her pelvis, her sex barely grazing his prominent bulge, and chuckled as he felt her twitch in his hands, frustration clear on her face when she finally submitted, whispering his name.

"There you go! It wasn't t that difficult, was it?" But it was. She was at war with her own thoughts, her body and her brain running in two opposite direction, ripping her apart as she hardly tried to balance the two parts; she wanted him-needed him-as much as she hated giving him the satisfaction of showing how badly she did. Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what he sought.

He seated her on his crotch and took a moment to enjoy her defeat when she realized her predicament hadn't changed at all. She couldn't even roll her hips.

"Do you want to come, Caroline?" He sounded like he was laughing at her, but she didn't have the energy to be upset for that. She shivered at the way her name fell off his tongue, quickly nodding as she felt herself growing even wetter from the anticipation.

She instantly bit her lower lip, but released it as quickly at his chastising look. He guided her hips over him to his own liking, which wasn't hers at all, a snail would have moved faster. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, catching every response that crossed her face, the small winkle between her eyebrows when she narrowed her eyes in concentration, as if she could seize the pulsating pleasure running through her body and somehow amplify it by herself. She couldn't.

What she could do was tense her thighs when he angled her hips so that her throbbing clit would press directly on his hand member, and emit a frustrated sob every time he kept it there, pulsing with need, without the slightest hint of movement.He would make her come when and how he liked, and she would have to keep still and hope the time would come soon.

She guessed it would happen if she begged him enough to have him grant her some mercy, so she swallowed her pride, the small fraction she still had, and pleaded.

When her torrent of "I beg you" and "please" and "let me come" had finally satiated him, he didn't stop sliding her on his groin when she started trembling again, but still, he had her reach her orgasm at such a slow pace, she didn't know if it was the best or the worst sensation of her life.

Her muscles gave up and she found herself slumping forward, where her forehead found his shoulder to rest on. Her whole body kept convulsing as he switched their position, maneuvering her liquid limbs with her knees bent over the two armrests, spread wide to give him a delicious view of her slick labia.

He couldn't help but trace her hot, swollen sex with his finger as he got up, stepping back to admire her spent body, open and satisfied, a smug smirk on his lips. She looked like a Goddess.

She certainly didn't feel like one when she walked out of his door, still wet under her clothes.

The third time it happened, he was in a mood.

The little gang had managed to desiccate him, and before he could bring things back to normal -which was the equivalent of forcing the Bennet witch to put him back in his own body by threatening to dismember Tyler's- he had had the pleasure of witnessing the party she had thrown, to celebrate his apparent death.

They'd had a toast to "a Klaus free life", to which she had smiled and drank, and he had felt his blood boil in his veins as he'd watched her kiss her boyfriend.

As much as Klaus liked to believe himself to be a rational and cautious strategist, always two steps ahead of his enemies and not affected by unnecessary nuisances, such as emotions, even a scheming mind like his got clouded by impulses sometimes.

He was expecting her this time, he had lead her to him after all, and not with a glass of wine to offer.

She found him standing in front of the fire, arms crossed, back turned.

"What the hell is this?!"

He could hear it in her voice, how much she was trying not to lash at him, but the high pitch her chords reached betrayed her. She was pissed, but so was he.

"I thought you liked my art."

"This is not-this is-" she stumbled on her own words, furious and confused, before taking a deep breath and speaking again with the most confident tone she could master.

"This is pathetic. I don't care where your old perverted mind likes to go and I-.. If you thought this..this thing would make me-that I would find it-you were wrong! I have a boyfriend, that I love and-and you..disgust me." She spat out the last word with a deep inhale.

He tried not to focus on the boyfriend part, turning around when she was finished, an arrogant mask taking on his features.

"Do I, now?" His wicked smile made her blood freeze in her veins. "If I recall, you didn't look disgusted in the slightest last time." He stepped closer to her, smirking at the confusion her eyes portrayed. "Quite the opposite, actually."

"You're delusional."

She wished she would feel as convinced as she'd managed to sound, but her fingers started trembling around the paper she was still loosely holding. His next reply confirmed the horrific doubt that was making its way in her brain.

"Oh no, love. I just have a better memory."

Had it been any other day, the hurt look on her face would have made him feel guilty; he could see the wheels turning in her brain as she pondered his words, eyes watering as she stepped back. He intervened before she could jump to conclusions.

"Don't get me wrong, love. It was nothing you didn't want at least as much as me." He joked with his palms high in an act of defense.

She shook her head. "No, I-I would never-"

He was behind her in a flash, brushing off her attempt to dissent with a simple, cutting statement. "Oh, but I know you think of me at night." Her heart thumped in her chest as she swallowed down a gasp, she did not deny it.

"I know you close your eyes and slide your hand down your skin, imagining it was my fingers to slip in your knickers." His murmured right in her ear, a low tone that was threatening and seductive at the same time."Do you let yourself moan my name, love? Or do you keep it hidden behind your lips?"

His arms enveloped her waist as he pressed against her back, rough hands closing around hers, keeping his sketch from slipping from her numb fingers. "Is this what your attitude towards me is about? Is it me that you blame when you can't help coming on your fingers with my name on the tip of your tongue?"

It was a yes, but she didn't say.

He lips brushed the shell of her ear when he spoke. It made her stomach twist and chills run down her spine.

"Is it my fault you need to picture my face when you lay with boyfriend, when he's not enough to get you off?" His voice was hard, confident, and damn her, she couldn't even try to fight him on this.

She would have to convince herself first.

"Do you have to keep yourself from moaning my name when you come? Oh, I would pay to see the look on his face when he realizes you've been wishing it was my cock to pound you."

He pressed his face on hers, his rough beard slightly scratching her smooth skin, their cheeks touching, and he could feel her burning when she flushed in embarrassment.

One hand moved upwards, gripped her chin and forced her to set her eyes on him.

"Now look, and remember."

He directed her gaze to the drawing, and she fell in a vortex of memories. The scenes playing in her mind mixed with the lines of her body, printed on the sheet their entwined hands held. Her image seamed to be moving, graphite details turning into flesh and bones as she suddenly felt the heat hardness of his member under her sex, his taste in her mouth, his breath on her neck, a contrast to the cold marble on the back of her thighs. Her brain registered two powerful orgasms at once, leaving her breathless in the embrace of her secret lover.

The memories dissolved like a puff of smoke, but left her in a haze she was too weak to recover from. Still in a trance, she couldn't register his hands sliding on the smooth skin of her torso, tucking under her bra to cup one full breast. She could still hear his hypnotic voice in her head, sweetly compelling her to "Give in, love. Don't hold back."

She bent her head backwards, leaning it on his left shoulder, when he squeezed her nipple, rolling his thumb on it a moment after. Still caught up in a dream, she let herself breath out his name, as her fingers finally let the drawing fall on the carpet, to slip in her damp underwear. His hand followed hers, guiding her digits on her throbbing clit to press down on it in slow -torturously so- circular motions.

When he spoke, he pulled her from her comfortable daze. "I will give you something real to think of."

Her eyes snapped open as she was brought back to reality; she instinctively clenched her thighs, shutting them, a useless move as his hand, on top of hers, remained between her legs.

Klaus watched the conflict wash on her face, knowing she was pondering whether she could find an excuse, I thought I was dreaming, after all, or give in to the undeniable pleasure she was so close to reach; he made it his goal to have her surrender once and for all.

One hand gripped her hair to turn her face to him, a complaint ready on her lips as soon as she was released from his compulsion. He smashed it with his mouth, pressing his index finger more firmly on her clit to gain a gasp that was quick to follow, and parted her lips to take her mouth fully with his own.

Her protest melted under his tongue; he was way too good with that to think about anything that wasn't his strokes under her palate or the pressure of his full lips on hers. She was damned the second her mouth left a low moan, vibrating from her throat and falling directly in his, giving him the last sign he needed to keep touching her without having to dwell on the dubious nature of her consent later.

Not that he could ignore her arousal, so obvious on his fingertips and intense in his nostrils.

His fingers had enough room to continue working on her clit, while he resumed palming her breasts after removing his hand from the grip he had on her head. She couldn't withdraw from his mouth even if she wanted to.

It was a good thing vampires didn't really need to breathe, because he didn't leave her mouth until she was completely relaxed in his arms, and her legs had finally fell open, and even then she couldn't keep herself from chasing his lips as they parted from hers, drawing a smug chuckle from him.

She had finally stopped her useless resentment towards him. He squeezed one breast harder in a possessive manner he couldn't deprive himself of, leaving five well defined marks where his fingertips pressed on her sensitive skin, before lowering his arm to encircle her torso, blocking both of hers under his iron grip.

"There you go, good girl." He murmured when her hips followed his fingers, eager to press down on them when he gave nothing more than a brush of his knuckles. Her restrained position didn't allow much of a movement, and she was soon struggling to find the right amount of friction her body craved.

He seemed to like making her desperate.

He didn't tease her too much this time, spreading her nether lips with two deft fingers before pushing them in her hungry core, the rest of his hand cupping her mound, keeping her clit and outer lips well stimulated.

His hot mouth traced the length of her arched neck, sucking on every centimeter of it as she mewled right in his ear.

"Please.." He heard her purr, and moved back to her earlobe.

"Yes, love?"

"Faster..please." She squirmed in his arms, part of her anxiously praying they wouldn't have a replay of their last encounter; she didn't think she could endure that torture and not develop some kind of mental disease.

He gave her what she wanted, and she was soon gasping as he built her climax.

She had expected he would edged her, but she hadn't considered he would leave her unsatisfied.

Her pelvis bucked in his arms when he moved his sticky hand away from her, she pressed her thighs together as she'd done before, but the bubble had dissolved and she was left with a maddening buzz in her cunt. The bastard fixed her underwear and trousers for her, as if he wasn't fucking her with his fingers just a second ago, but before she could pick a word from her list of obscenities to spit in his face, he had grabbed both her arms and turned her.

Face to face for the first time that night, he didn't look as arrogant as she'd expected.

"You will come on my cock next time, Caroline." Something in her lower body clenched. "Because that's what you've always wanted." He was dead serious, he wasn't guessing, and at this point, she would look ridiculous if she tried to argue on that. "But you will only knock on my door when you'll be ready to acknowledge that."

His hands left her, and for a moment she thought it was her turn to speak, only, she had really nothing to add to that.

He didn't push her, turning again and walking to the shelves where he had his bourbon. He would have offered her some, but when he turned, she had vanished.

She trashed in her bed, trying to force her brain to stop thinking, stop imagining, and for God's sake stop replaying the night over and over again!

She was still aching in a not so convenient place, because she had refused to give in to the temptation, but it had been three full hours and she hadn't managed to close her eyes; well, she had, but a very skilled tongue had started licking her neck, and she'd had to snap them back open to make it stop.

She tried focusing on the most anti-sexual thoughts, like Jeremy's birthday party when they were 9, but as she remembered the game of hide and seek they'd played in the backyard, the scene had somehow switched to a whole different one, like, how would sex on the grass feel like, and most importantly, would it scrape her back as Klaus banged her on the ground?

She let out a frustrated shout, muffled by the pillow her sweaty neck was wetting, and when she turned her head and looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand, the numbers 4 and 36 looked at her as if they were capable of scolding her for being up too late.

She turned on the other side, closed her eyes, took a long breath, and gave in.

**********

A./N. We have a Klaroline! I know there’s a whole crowd out there that shares my passion for these two because let’s face it, there’s no better ship then this one right here. 😌

xoxo L

#fanfic #imagines #the vampire diaries #tv series #fanfiction #joseph morgan #the originals #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson smut #smut #caroline forbes #klaroline #klaroline smut #klaus x caroline #dub/con #compulsion

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katsuhn · 3 years

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OBEY | chapter one

katsuki bakugou x villain!reader

SUMMARY: After being kidnapped and refusing to join the LoV, Katsuki is handed over to you— a woman with a mind control quirk whose only goal is to break him.

WARNING: rape/non-con, blowjob, bondage.

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

QUICK NOTE: jo if ur reading this plz leave 😭😭

now this story will be absolute FILTH from the darkest corners of my mind… now I rarely write smut (in fact this is the first smut I’ve ever written it afsgdg) so I’m sorry if it’s shit. either way, this fic will start off without a clear plot bc I wanna have some ~fun~ before I get into it. this has EXTREMELY dubious consent (like honestly straight up non-con) and Stockholm elements!! I obviously do NOT condone any of this irl (without proper consent ofc!!)

.·:* ̈༺ ༻ ̈*:·.

“Please say it, baby. It’ll be so much better if you do.”

Katsuki growls, voice scratching at his throat the same way your hands are at his thighs. “Fuck off.”

He flinches when you kneel in between his legs, your fully clothed figure contrasting harshly against his naked one sitting on the edge of your bed. His joints ache and scream protests with each movement, wrists itching against the rope you’ve tied them in tightly behind his back. Love bites litter his skin, face so flush he’s sure you can see it in the dimly lit room.

Your smile widens and you press your cheek against his thigh, gazing up at him. He grits his teeth, wishing you hadn’t put that damn quirk-nullifying collar around his neck so he could blast you to hell, where you fucking belong.

Tracing light patterns on his thigh, you reach up to cup his cheek. He goes to bite you, but a freezing chill seeps into his bones, physically restraining him from doing so. He tries to fight against it, to do what he wants until his limbs ache and his lungs burn, forcing him to give in. Warmth circles amongst his head, hands shaking desperately to activate his quirk and he opens his mouth to curse you out once again, only to let out a strangled gasp when you tug at his hard cock.

You giggle as you lazily stroke, deliberately avoiding the head, “come on, please say it… I don’t want to have to force you.”

Katsuki wants to scream until his vocal cords break. It’s been weeks since you’ve forced him into being your ‘pet’, seemingly attempting to break him into submission. He refuses to break.

Yet more often than not you don’t give him a choice.

He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of telling you anything of this though; opting to just glare. You pout, shrugging innocently before bringing the tip of his cock to your lips.

Instinctively he thrusts into your mouth. This usually would’ve gotten him another restriction, but by now you’re used to his reflexes, having already hollowed out your cheeks. You focus on his tip, sucking lightly and he groans, despite his wants to suppress the sound. Another one of your stupid fucking commands. You hum in approval, bobbing your head up and down and he lets out a low whine.

He loathes how his body reacts to you, listening to the commands you’ve hardwired into his brain that he desperately wishes he could bypass, stripping him of his pride and dignity bit by bit each time he obeys you rather than himself. You practically fucking get off to it.

His breathing quickens, signalling what’s to come and you immediately start sucking hard at his tip, using one hand to work his shaft and the other to fondle his balls. Katsuki throws his head back as he chokes on a moan, eyes squeezed tightly shut and his thighs shake. Then his body jerks, warmth flooding into your mouth but you only continue to suck him harder, ignoring his string of curses as he squirms beneath you.

Once his curses turn into pleads, you let him go with a lewd pop. He’s panting, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and his skin is shaded a beautiful pink. You gaze into his eyes as though you can hear the hazy, exhausted thoughts within his mind. Perhaps you can.

He shuts his eyes once again when you cradle his cheek, “You okay, baby? I just wanted to make you feel good...”

“Fuck you...” Katsuki mutters, his breathing stuttering.

You smile as he unknowingly leans into your touch.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #reader has a mind control quirk #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #dom!reader #sub katsuki #sub katsuki bakugou #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia smut #my hero academia smut

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talking-tics · 3 years

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I’m a little sad because it’s really hard to find writing where a character has tics/Tourette’s. And I thought that maybe it was because people were afraid of writing characters with tics/Tourette’s. So here we are. I think there might be another post floating around about this but I thought I’d put my two cents in. So,

Thing to Know When Writing Characters with Tics/Tourette’s

- tourettic‘s and others with tics don’t tic all the time. we can go hours, days, weeks, months without ticcing. My Tourette’s swings from mild, a few tics a day and occasional tic fits for a few months, to months where I’m ticcing almost constantly. While you do need to write your character’s tics, They don’t have to be constant.

- write out/describe the tic. don’t just say the character ticced. ex: “John’s head twisted suddenly to the side”

- not everyone that has Tourette’s swears as a tic, (has coprolalia) in fact only around 10% of tourretics experience it.

- a lot of tourettics don’t say anything at all when they tic. common vocal tics that don’t include words include, squeaking, grunting, tongue clucking, throat clearing etc. Some people with tics don’t have vocal tics at all, like people with chronic motor tic disorder. and vice versa for people with chronic vocal tic disorder. Your character doesn‘t have to have every type of tic.

- while coprolalia (swearing or obscene tics) is something that a lot of people with tics face and it should be talked about, be careful when writing it as it can enforce negative stereotypes.

- most people with tics can feel tics coming like a build up inside you or a sneeze or itch. If you’re writing from the POV of the character with tics, keep in mind that this is something they would probably experience even if you choose not to write about it.

- a lot of people with tics can suppress them for varying amounts of time. This is unhealthy but necessary on occasion though I really wish it wasn’t.

- There are more tic disorders than just Tourette’s. to have Tourette’s you character has to have both motor and vocal tics for more than a year. Other tic disorders include, Chronic Motor or Vocal Tic Disorders and Provisional Tic Disorder.

- People with tics/Tourette’s use a variety of disability aids for their tics, including mobility aids (for tics that effect mobility), Noise cancelling headphones, fidget/stim items etc.

- Just write characters with tic/Tourette’s like you would any other character, just with tics/Tourette’s.

- Remember that while people without tics/Tourette’s can write characters with tics, and include it as a big part of their story, they shouldn’t be writing with the tics as the focus of the story. Write characters with tics not stories about tics.

anyways, happy writing loves!/p

#Tourette’s #actually tourettic #Tourette syndrome #Tourette’s syndrome #tics #tic disorder #chronic motor tic disorder #Transient tic disorder #provisional tic disorder #writing #writing tips #writing advice

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drxwsyni · 3 years

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show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it��s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you.

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons.

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black.

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #tw choking #tw stalking #tw virginity loss

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quinncupine · 3 years

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May I request Alpha Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki (seperate) always protecting their Omega reader? How would they react if another alpha tried to claim the omega? Likee hmm say for example the two are walking on the street then another alpha just jumps in and talks about like how attractive reader's scent is and stuff! It is alright if youre not comfortable with writing with this many characters, this ABO au, or this idea in general!

Notes: Hi Anon! I’m so sorry this took longer than expected to do! I promise I didn’t forget you! I don’t really know much about the ABO au so I had to do a bit of research first. I’m not really sure if I landed it though, but I did have fun writing it! It’s always fun to try out something new, so I do hope you enjoy it! I also tried to keep it gender-neutral.

Warnings: Language, mild violence, slight blood, possessive behavior, Alpha-Omega au, drinking-drunken behavior

Word Count: ~2.7K

Wanna request something?

...

BAKUGO

Katsuki is the definition of aggressive. It's no surprise he'd be just as aggressive as an Alpha, especially when it came to you. Your mere presence was enough to send him into ultra possessive protective mode.

The two of you were heading back to your shared apartment after one of your weekly date nights. Since he was a pro hero, he didn't often have much free time, so he set aside a specific night each week, just for you. He wasn't the best at showing his love through words, so his actions more than made up for the fact.

A muscled arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked through the deserted street. The ground seemed to be swaying a bit, or that might've just been you. One drink too many could do that. Katsuki warned you not to drink so much, but you didn't listen and as much as he complained that he wouldn't carry you home, he still held most of your body weight up by a single firm hand.

"I love you," you cooed, dropping your head into his shoulder with a smile.

His hand tightened around you and a cocky grin spread across his face. "I know."

With a slight pout, you huffed, "say it back."

The tiniest roll of his eyes before he grabbed your chin with his free hand and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. You were about to question him but his lips silenced you with a deep kiss. "You know I do." He tried to sound annoyed, but you could see straight through it.

He wouldn't be caught dead being this sentimental with you if anyone else was nearby, especially if another Alpha was near. To him, acting like that opened someone up for weakness, and with you on the line, he would never allow that. But since it was just the two of you alone, he allowed himself to show just a slight bit of passion. These little moments were reserved solely for you.

Wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, you let out a heavy sigh with sleepy eyes. The peaceful night air had a bit of a chill to it, but that was nothing compared to the heavenly warmth radiating from his body. That was until you felt his whole person stiffen.

Confused, you looked up. Then the smell hit you. Another Alpha's scent. Even in your hazy state, it smelled overwhelming, intentional…and all-too aggressive. It literally smelled like trouble. You'd had trouble in the past with other Alpha's coming on way too strong, which was one of the reasons why you were so grateful to have found Katsuki. He doesn't put up with any bullshit and isn't afraid to fight others off.

Katsuki's nails dug into your waist, his feet abruptly coming to a stop. Jaw clenched so hard, teeth nearly cracking from the pressure. Ruby-red eyes narrowed into deadly slits. A vicious snarl itching to see some action. It was a sight you were used to seeing from him. Criminals and heroes alike tried to avoid that exact look he was wearing right now.

Plenty of Alpha's had tried to come onto you in the past, but none have been so bold as to outright try to challenge Katsuki, especially in the dead of night on some deserted street. The moment they got a whiff of that dangerous heady scent, dripping with aggression and possessiveness, they immediately backed off. He didn't know the meaning of mercy.

When you turned your head to pinpoint the source of the scent, he twisted around first, swinging you to his back in one easy motion. The street looked empty from where you poked your head around his arm.

"Get lost fuckwad," he growled, "or die."

The shadows shifted and a man clad in loose black clothes that blended into the darkness so well you were having a hard time keeping your eyes on him. It was only when he stepped into the glow of a streetlamp from a block away did you finally see him clearly. He casually crossed his arms behind his head. A way of showing Katsuki that he wasn't threatened in the slightest. Even a full block away the poignant smell of him invaded your nose.

"What a temper on this one," he purred with a sultry charm guised to disarm, a complete contradiction of his hostile scent. "You know babe, you'd be much better off with me."

"Don't fucking talk to them," Katsuki snapped, fingers digging into the fabric covering your arm. "Or I'll kill you."

"It's not worth it," you tugged on his jacket a bit. "Let's just go."

Even as you said it, you knew it was pointless. Katsuki never backs down from a fight. Violence is ingrained in his DNA.

"Gonna take orders from an Omega? At least I know how to keep them in place, like a real Alpha," he smirked, crossing the street. A deep growl rumbled in Katsuki's chest, but the other Alpha ignored it. "Can't you smell it? I could smell their scent three blocks away."

You were on suppressants but alcohol is notorious for diluting their effect and of course, you had to show him up and drink more than him tonight. Was your scent out of control? You didn't think so and Katsuki hadn't said anything about it all night. You couldn't smell it, but if that Alpha had followed you all this way, it must've been strong.

As the Alpha drew closer, you realized just how bulky the man was. He stood taller than Katsuki by almost a foot and that grin stitched into his face was making you nervous. The whole situation was stressing you out so much Katsuki could most likely smell it comes off you in waves. His bright vermillion eyes found yours and he huffed. That instinct to protect was warring with his compulsion for reckless abandon. Before he could say anything, the Alpha made the first move.

With a snap of his teeth, the burly man took off towards Katsuki and Katsuki didn't waste a second. He pushed you back and charged. The two met in a head-on collision. A bright explosion lit up the darkened street with an echoing boom. When the light faded and the smoke cleared, Katsuki stood over his opponent, an angry snarl spilling from his grinning face as he smashed his foot into the Alpha's singed back. What was the phrase? All bark and no bite.

Once he was sure the Alpha was down for the count, he trudged over to you. Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away. After a few minutes, he deemed it far enough and stopped to pull you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

"The nerve of these assholes," he muttered, eyes still glaring at the soft shadows surrounding them. He wouldn't feel better until you were back home, under his watchful eye. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled into his shirt, closing your eyes with a relieved sigh. "I'm always fine when I'm with you."

MIDORIYA

Izuku isn't a typical Alpha. His demeanor is usually quiet and kind so it always surprised most people to find out he was one. Only making sense when he went into battle mode. The sheer ferocity this guy displays while fighting is one of the most intense things anyone will experience. R.I.P any brave soul that decides to challenge him. He gives it his all, especially if it means protecting someone under his care; namely you.

After leaving the theater (yes, Izuku drags you to each new All Might Movie premier, and no, you don't have a choice in the matter) you lean into him, listening to him gush about every detail the movie had gotten right or horribly wrong. This man was a serious fanboy. His voice was soothing to hear to so you could listen to him prattle on forever if you had your way.

The two of you had almost made it to the car when someone stumbled into you. If Izuku hadn't had his arm around your waist, you would've fallen down with the obviously drunk man. He pulled you away from the drunkard and did a quick check to make sure you weren't hurt before turning his attention to the man. "Hey, are you alright buddy?"

"Dammit!" the man groaned as he crawled back to his feet, swaying from side to side once he made it up. "Watch where you're goin'," he slurred out, lips having a hard time forming the words. Then he sniffed and blinked a few times, focusing on you. "Mmm, you smell good."

Izuku stiffened, subtly stepping in front of you, eyes narrowed. "Your drunk, it's time you went home."

"What's a lovely thing like you doing out so late?" he ignored Izuku entirely, puffing out his chest with a sleazy grin. That's when the scent hit you. Strong, mixed with the smell of alcohol. It made your nose wrinkle in disgust. "Come here doll, I can take good care of ya."

A low rumble vibrated deep within Izuku's chest. A warning. A threat. Most sensible Alpha's would've taken the cue, but this guy was far from anything resembling sense. Izuku is, for the most part, a rational Alpha, but when the drunkard stepped closer to touch you, he lost it.

It was so quick, you almost missed it. Izuku snatched the grimy hand, twisted it which in turn forced the man to twist as well, and sent him flying with a powerful kick to the rear. He kicked him so hard the Alpha flew halfway across the parking lot, landing in a small puddle with a loud splash. It took a moment for him to roll over, body still trying to process what just happened before finally falling back into the puddle with a long-winded groan.

Izuku stood rigid, eyes locked on the Alpha who had curled in on himself. He gnashed his teeth a few times trying to even out his huffy breaths. Small sparks of green electricity quietly crackled off his skin.

"Izuku?" you grabbed one of his fisted hands and pulled it close.

He looked down at you, still trying to calm his racing heart. Izuku didn't like to get like this in front of you and that in itself was making him more upset. But a part of him loved the fact that he could protect you so easily and that you took comfort in that fact.

The Alpha, apparently too drunk to remember what just happened, rolled out of the puddle and back to his feet. His back was dripping wet, but he didn't even seem to notice as he staggered off into the night.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, finally turning to you.

You wrapped your arms around his muscly frame, fingertips just barely meeting on his back. "What're you sorry for? You protected me, didn't you?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Pride swelled in his chest. A slight tinge rushed to his cheeks so he tucked his face into your neck, nuzzling his nose deep into the crook. Your scent was always so calming and he stayed like that for a minute until he remembered you were both still standing outside the car. "Let's go home."

TODOROKI

Shoto is a strong silent Alpha. He's probably the calmest of the three, but that doesn't mean he won't hesitate to kick anyone's ass if they dare mess with you. He's mastered the evil eye glare and combined with his natural Alpha aura, most steer clear.

You had decided to take a day trip to the next prefecture over to see your friends and had asked Shoto to pick you up from the train station. So, there he was, standing on the platform, umbrella in hand as the rain came down in a steady, freezing pour.

When the train finally pulled in, he scanned the cars until he saw you step out. Even in the heavy rain, he could pick up your scent and it was screaming distress. It confused him until he saw why…or rather smelled why. Stepping out behind you was a lanky man, mere inches from your back. His grinning face was bent next to yours as he talked with you, well more like at you. Large hands ghosted over your hair, taking in heavy whiffs of you. A grimace stuck on your face as you did everything in your power to ignore him, but trying to ignore an Alpha was like trying to ignore a blowhorn to the face. Loud, obnoxious, and completely overwhelming. The longer you ignored him, the more irritated he grew.

Shoto snapped the umbrella closed so hard he almost broke it. He no longer cared about getting wet and used the tip to wedge himself between the crowd of people. The hair on his neck stood on end. The rain on his right side froze the minute it touched his skin while on his left, it turned to steam. He tried to suppress that ball of rage building in the back of his throat, only for an aggravated growl to escape. Anyone who managed to catch his wrathful gaze quickly jumped out of his warpath.

The Alpha placed his hand on your shoulder and that was the final straw. You turned to swat him off, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you right up against him, dark eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Panic took over as you struggled to free yourself from his too-tight grip.

An umbrella came out of nowhere, whacking the Alpha right in the nose. He let go of your wrist with a startled yelp, stumbling back a few feet.

Shoto suddenly materialized between the two of you. You'd been so distracted that you didn't even realize you could smell Shoto's scent. But now that he was up close, it was all you could smell. Strong, powerful, and…furious.

"What the fu-AAAH!" With a scream, he toppled over. Both legs were frozen together in a thick column of ice. He hit the ground hard, head smacking on the wet concrete.

Shoto towered over him, shooting that perfected evil eye, face masked in shadows. "Next time," he growled, voice low and terrifyingly calm, "I'd advise not to touch people without their permission." Crouching next to his head, he glanced down at his left hand where a small flame erupted, and despite the pouring rain, only seemed to grow brighter. "Or you might get burned."

The man wisely stilled, eyes wide. "I didn't know they already had a mate dude, I swear."

"Regardless, don't ever let me catch you treating someone like that again," he snapped his hand closed, extinguishing the flame. "Is that understood?"

The threat was heard loud and clear but the Alpha glanced at you and Shoto grabbed his chin and pulled his gaze back to him. "Don't ever look at them again."

A nod and Shoto threw his face to the side, standing up. Taking a moment to compose himself again, he turned to you, hunched in on yourself, looking slightly embarrassed. Too many people were staring because Shoto had made a scene. He could care less about what other people thought. Someone had messed with you and he had to make it right.

Holding a hand out, you accepted it and he ushered you away. The both of you were soaking wet but he still opened the umbrella again, shielding you from the rain. Once you were far enough away from the station and other people, he stopped to inspect you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking for any obvious signs or lingering scent marks.

"No, I'm fine." You hugged yourself, not sure if you were shivering from the cold wet or from that creep, possibly both.

With a frown, he pulled you in close. His left side immediately warmed you up and you buried your head as far as you could into his chest, that familiar, safe scent surrounding you. "Thanks, Sho."

That intense anger was slowly ebbing away the longer you held onto him. That need to protect, to comfort taking its place. You alone were the only thing that seemed to be able to calm him down when he was so worked up. Wrapping his free arm around you, tucking you in as tightly as possible, he kissed the top of your head. "You know I'd do anything for you."

#mha #alpha-omega au #deku #bnha #midoryia izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shoto #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #request

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