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zeltqz · 1 year ago

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call me or not, it's up to you.

☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.

☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol

It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working.

“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off.

“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”

He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.

“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”

You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”

He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired.

He sighed. “You sure babe?”

You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom.

You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.

@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!

@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢

“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”

You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem.

You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.

It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.

There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”

“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?

He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice.

“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”

“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.

“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”

You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.

Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.

That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said.

The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.

The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.

“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.

“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”

“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”

“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.

“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”

Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.”

Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #haitani ran smut #ran smut #ran haitani smut

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vampiredaisiesss · 8 months ago

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the boy beneath | dean winchester x reader

summary - even though john has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. the boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. and in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

tw: fluff, mention of john winchester, itsy bitsy angst, season one dean being a cute little shit.

The golden afternoon sun glints off the polished chrome of the Impala.

Huddled under its hood, you're helping Dean fix a blown engine in the middle of nowhere. The scent of pine and motor oil mingles in the air, a strangely comforting amalgamation that's become synonymous with these moments.

Grease smears your faces, laughter echoing through the woods before dying into a comfortable silence. Dean works his wrench as you watch him, mesmerized by the fluid motions of his hands.

There's a softness to him still, despite the harsh life he's led. Even after years of hunting and killing, he's a little shit with puppy dog eyes and a pretty boy smile.

He's got an old Canon EOS camera he roams around with everywhere nowadays. It's become as much a part of him as his leather jacket or the samulet. And yes, it's a bit battered, much like Dean himself, but it's efficient at it's job, just like him.

"What'cha lookin' at, sweetheart?" he asks amusedly, without looking up. If he had, he would've caught the longing in your eyes.

"Nothing," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but the slight tremor betrays you.

A gust of wind blows across your face, tickling you with your strands of hair. You giggle at the sensation, the sound coming out light and carefree. It steals Dean's attention away from his beloved car, soft eyes landing on your face.

Dean's heart skips a beat as he looks at you. God, you're beautiful, he thinks, drinking in the sight of your windswept hair and the laughter in your eyes.

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches for the camera in the back seat. The shutter clicks, immortalizing your joy.

As he lowers his camera, he thinks of all your hours spent in between sheets. Naked bodies pressed together, crevices into crevices. He's enamoured by the way his hands mould your body to fit the curves of his.

Even though John has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. The boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. And in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

The thought of losing you feels like the ache Achilles must have felt when Patroculus died. It's an ache that gnaws at his insides every second of his existence. He wants to hold onto this feeling, to you, with everything he has.

And for a fleeting moment, as he turns back to the engine, you both pretend that this is all there is — just you, Dean, and the open road ahead.

#supernatural #deanwinchtser #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #spn fanfic #spn #fluff #light angst #cute #fanfic

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sinandguilt · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐖.

remmick x male reader

summary: Grief makes you do foolish things. Like wandering out at night after dark, singing to ghosts and the trees they hide behind. But even worse– the devil listening, rambling on with false stories about how he knew your father before he died, and letting him follow you home.

warnings: mature, slowburnish, suggestive/nsfw, subtle d/s, dead dove, dubcon, blood, manipulation, stalking, violence, feeding, brief mentions of graphic violence/gore, grief, remmick is actually creepy as hell, reader is wary but still naive, saliva as an aphrodisiac, drugging, dysphoria, fingering, trans!reader/m!reader, feminine terms for anatomy, dacryphilia, pathetic man alert, remmick is a certified munch, remmick acts all cocky but goes weak in the knees for blood, oneshot(?), not beta read, itsy-bitsy plot holes to lore that don't exist if you squint, author is struggling to tag.

wc: 9.5k

(a/n): i’m not too proud of this fic, but i spent too long on it to trash it. maybe i'll revamp in the future. i took some inspiration from the story little red riding hood (specifically from into the woods, but without the child part) and put my own spin on it. first good chunk is just an introduction for you to get to know the character a bit, (i hate making x reader fics w/o the character having any personality. also, transmasc black/native!character, specifically choctaw (mother is black, father is indigenous). i hope i did enough research to write more than five paragraphs of this. might be some slight lore and time-period inaccuracies for plot but enjoy.

(likes, comments and/or reblogs are welcomed and encouraged!)

⸄࿆࿆⸅ྃ⸄࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆ ⸅𓊆†𓊇⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄῁࿆⸅⸄῁̟࿆⸅ྃ⸄࿆⸅⸄࿆࿆⸅ྃ

Low hanging branches of the underbrush tore at your legs as they carried you forward. Knocking against a tree, a yelp is wrenched from your throat as the bark tears into the cotton thinly blanketing your arm. Still, your hand digs into the dampened dirt, pushing you off the ground. You stumble forward with weakened resolve, ragged breaths swim with the sound of branches snapping like bones. You don't bother turning back to see if he's following you, the mere shadows of his presence sinking into your skin in his stead. Sucking in a shallow breath, the air around you seemed to thin. Flashes of your mama blanket your vision– her sweet songs, her teasing words, her loving arms. You couldn't bother to choke back the sob that bloomed in your throat. The same little words seemed to be the only thing pushing you forward. Just make it to the door. Make it, you have to. All the while, the low whistle whispers past the trees– following you. His voice. Nothing mattered anymore. Not your abandoned hatchet shrouded in dirt, not your legs burning as they hauled you forward– just those porch lights, just that door. Just your mama sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of your absence, your empty bed. Nothing mattered, not even the swift crack sent to the back of your head, or the sound of your body hitting the ground. All of this could've been avoided if you had just heeded your mama’s warning–

“By nightfall, stay out of them woods.

That’s the devil’s playground.”

–┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈–

Sunlight pierced through the shabby planks of wood nailed together by a faded dream of home, the light spilling onto the dust-kept floors. The low voice of your mother rang out, “Get that thing off my table,” she nagged, nodding her head toward the red cloak blanketing the dining table. “I didn't spend hours sewing that damn thing together for you t’just leave it wherever.” She sighed for a moment before her attention returned to the blade beneath her palm. She blinked away tears, holding her head back away from the freshly-cut onions on her cutting board and brushing wet, thin hands onto her lavender slip. “Make sure you get all your work done, chores n’ all that.”

You shuffled forward out of the shadow cowering from the sunlight, skin of sienna. Your clothes draped over your body, long and heavy like you'd been wearing someone else's, not quite meant to fit you. Your hair fell over your face, braided into all sorts of different ways. Some twisted, string netting over the hair, some braided with beads and charms hugging them tight, and a few locks interwoven with feathers from ravens and crows falling over your collarbones. The two most noticeable braids of your hair were much longer, flowing down over your back nearly to your waist. Long, just like your daddy’s. You pull the red hood from the dust-ridden table– worn and chipped, holding it in your hands for a moment. She had woven in black, leather strings that overlapped the collar, where you'd pull it tight. Most likely taken from her corset. Tribal patterns laced the material, the hood lined with grey wolf fur. A fond memory of him setting the fur on the back of the dining room chair etches into the back of your mind.

“You know how I feel about you just leavin’ anythin’ on my damn table,” she huffed, her hand settled at her hip as she leaned against the wooden counter. A stray curl fell over her cheek– her raven hair pulled into a bun as she smiled, doing her best to fake annoyance. It'd been sweltering all that day, and mama had spent all her time cleaning without pause. She refused to have the house any other way than spotless. Your daddy stepped forward, brushing the curl from her face and behind her ear. You watched with a smile as your daddy leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Habit, I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff and thick, as if it was snuffed deep in an ashtray. “Won't happen again, pisa achukma.”

The closest memory of him flickers like an open flame, but the moment it greets itself to the confines of your mind, you snuff it out– your eyes flitting to your mama’s face growing stoic. She folded her arms over her chest in mild irritation. She’d looked different than how she used to last spring. Her weight had dropped– her body nearing frail and thin. Her eyes looked tired, sunken. She brushed a few crumbs from a dented wooden chair with mild irritation before plopping down in her seat. The on-stretching silence was then interrupted, her voice cutting through your thoughts like a clearing.

“We gon’ talk now or do I gotta keep playin’ mind reader?” Your mouth grew sour, tongue pliant and useless. Right. The incident. Your eyes fall over your new hood– to the burned edges that had ripped into the rim of the cloak, to where it's singed and scorched black on what used to be your father’s blanket his mother had gifted to him– who you couldn't even give the courtesy of naming your grandma on account of never being blessed the chance to meet the woman. “Y’can’t just keep this ‘vow of silence’ up forever, baby. I know it hurts, god, I know–” she sucks in a breath, her hand on her chest. Head held high as always. She'd never break in front of you– she swore it. “But you are all I got left now. We gotta play this safe, okay?” The floorboards creak beneath her feet as she steps forward. How small you must look to her– eyes tired, heavy. “All that pain and nowhere to put it,” she'd say.

It'd been nearing a few weeks since what happened to daddy. If you blinked, you could still smell copper in the air, bitter beneath your tongue– how the fire stained the red of his blanket, burning into a thick smoke of black, Daddy throwing Mama that hatchet, woven in red patterns and string– tossing away his only defense, how his body burned; the sick smell of flesh peeling away like an onion. You weren't there for all of it, just the aftermath– rushing out of your Aunt’s with bare feet onto the paved bedding. Mama’s cries pierced your ears, almost drowning out the sound of those white men laughing. Tires skid against the dry dirt coughing up dust, circling around his burning body in their trucks like wolves to a lamb. Predators to prey. Soft thumbs brush away fallen tears you hadn't realized were welling in your eyes, blurring your vision. Those almond eyes, big and brown, blinked away the salty beads of tears staining your lashes.

“Look, y’know I'll always be there for you. I got you no matter what we goin’ through. This ain't the first time we've gone through shit together, and it damn sure won't be the last. I was here when you told me you were–” she pauses, resting her hands on your shoulders and squeezing lightly. She crooks a finger beneath your chin, pulling your gaze upward to meet her own. “You’ll always be my baby,” she hesitated. “My son.” Her eyes were teary, dark brown eyes darting between your own. “We're all we got now. I need you to know that. Don't go dark on me, too, okay? Anyone else but me.” You found yourself nodding slowly, a tear trickling down your cheek. For weeks, you had kept yourself numb after what happened. And yet, warmth enveloped you as she wrapped her arms around you. “‘S gon’ be okay. We'll be okay.” Your hands were splayed over her back. Your fingers met the cotton of her slip dress, the pad of your index tapping slowly, three times. You could feel her smile against the crown of your head, pressing in with a small kiss. “I love you too.”

The smallest memory tickled the back of your mind, of you and your daddy’s hideout. Where you'd camp under the stars guiding moonlight over their makeshift fort. Maybe that's how it happened– the memory of his fingers strumming his guitar trickled down and broke open and shattered all sorts of reasoning in your mind. Any sensibility out the window for you to end up here. Going out at night was forbidden, now that daddy was gone. A sharp pang of defiance hit your chest. You refused to bury the last parts of your daddy's memory. His body was enough.

So you waited. Waited until the sky fell into night, until the hallway had gotten quiet and mama's soft snoring was all that filled the silence. And it did. The sun had soon faded with the bright, blue sky washing into black, the stars burning into a clouded night. You slowly pulled the front door closed, tucking your daddy’s worn hatchet into his gun holster, a large hole torn into the leather to fit the handle. Just in case. You crept off of the front porch and onto the grassless, beaten path, fresh oil lamp in hand. You'd been down this road countless times, the leaves on the trees swaying in sync with the blades of grass. The burning glow of fireflies led you toward the underbrush off the path.

The path mama said you're not supposed to leave. The path your daddy carved out for you that mama didn't know about. Make no mistake– your daddy wasn't careless. He had rushed out of the house that day yelling your name until his voice was hoarse only to find you running up to him with big, doe eyes and grinning from ear to ear, cupping a frog in your hands that you found by the riverbank beyond the trees shrouding the edge of the house. How could he stand there, chest heaving laboriously and deny you of your curiosity? There was only one rule– Don't cross the white line. A rule he had made very clear since you were old enough to sit out on the porch by yourself. You remember watching him draw a line in white chalk across the somber edges of the forest from your little makeshift tent.

Branches and leaves scratch at your legs, your fingers brushing against the skin of the trees like home. Red and white paint spotted them– an indicator you and your daddy used to find your way back home. You pushed deeper into the darkened woods, past the cypress trees. Your nails scraped at the roughened bark, hurried footsteps into the bed of grass. You hummed a soft song, voice high and sweet, cracking open for the first time all month like yolk breaking free from its shell. A song your mama taught you that she learned when she was a girl. “Through the dark, I wade,” you muttered. “As if in its glory days.” Brushing the hair from your face, the sweat begins to slick your skin. “Knowing all my tears and rage,” you hummed, high and reminiscent. “Could load a revolver.” Firelights burned bright in darkness, the sound of rushing water lulling you in deeper. Almost there. Hand prints in red and white paint stained the trees from when you were a mere girl. Before the thought of being able to become something higher struck your fancy. Before you had bound your chest in bandages, and long before the ache in your ribs had faded with time.

Mama used to tease you, saying that you didn't have much to show. Said they were itty-bitty, like yellow buds of magnolias before they'd even got to bloom– before white petals fell open with age. That was before she knew, before you told her. Suddenly all those small teasing words fell short. She had grown quiet. “You know I love you right?” her voice was soft as milk and honeydew, cupping your cheek. She held you like glass, so fragile and easy to break. Because you were. “No matter what you call yourself. You'll always be mine.” Her weary arms wrapped around your small frame. Almost as if the universe knew before you did. Your curves were stunted– chest small and unfulfilled, yet your hair grew in their stead, falling past your shoulders like silk. When daddy passed, you’d cut a large amount– the hair around your face no longer needing to be pulled back behind your shoulder blades. Mama helped braid and twist the rest of it, like she had seen some foreign girls have them. Yet you kept the pools of hair down your back long, braided tight. As if you’d left that part of yourself behind– who you used to be when daddy was still breathing softly against your skin as you laid your head out on his chest that warm day in May.

You stopped in your tracks. A small glint of glass catching your eye, the rust had set heavy on the oil lamp. You moved forward slowly, kneeling before your hideout. It'd been a long time since you'd visited, the candle burned to the end of its wick, curling in on itself as if it had spent its flame waiting for your return. Your eyes catch on the line drawn with chalk right at the edge of the tent. Pushing the lamp smothered in ash and wax aside, you replace it with the one fresh from the house. Crawling inside, you made yourself home again beneath the old blankets soaked dry since the skies last mourned daddy’s passing with you. Digging your hands under the pillows and blankets, you pause the moment your fingers brush against it– the strings of daddy’s guitar. Slowly, you pulled it into his lap– its body too big and bulky for you to blanket it comfortably, not meant for the two of you to slot together like daddy did with it. You hook the band over your shoulders while soft pads of skin strum at the cords, a low hum thrumming into the open air. The air shifts, a push from the wind blows the stray hairs from your face. Your nail scratches at the strings, palm hugging the nape of the guitar. Thin fingers press deep into the cords and the guitar whines. The sound of voice flies high and soft into the air like lace, intricacies falling from your lips.

“Slip off down to sleep,” you murmur. A song you'd nearly forgotten, your eyes fall shut as you serenade the sky with practiced words. “I’ll be waitin’ for your open arms– with cold to keep, until you feel yourself dragging down–” The hush of leaves blowing in the wind seemed to slow, the woods growing quiet. Your strumming grew louder, bolder as your voice rang out. “–the fitted sheets. Your home is nothing more to me than shelter for your heart– a heart that bleeds,” you hums. “It bleeds for me.” Your hand slows against the open void of the guitar. For a moment, there's nothing but the low whisper of the breeze slotted between the leaves and blades of grass. For a moment, you don't notice the air shifting, cold settling on your skin, only feeling your fingers pin the cords of the guitar.

A chill crawls down your spine, making itself known. It forces your eyes open with a quiet gasp. And then, you see it. How the cypress trees seem to bend and groan around it, the fireflies’ lights dulling. A figure– a man. Tall with broadened shoulders and stalk still. The silhouette stood there, shrouded in darkness. Almost as if he was waiting for you to notice his presence. As if the chill in the air wasn't enough of an introduction. He just stood there– with his weight leaned against one leg, hands sewn into his pockets.

It was surreal– unnerving, even. No croaking of the frogs leaping from the river’s edge, no chirping of the crickets– just silence. You could hear the thump of your heart, blood pounding in your ears as you remained still, frozen like a deer at the end of a rifle’s barrel. Adrenaline began to pool within your stomach, your gut twisting into knots. For a moment, you almost convinced yourself it was just an odd shadow, until the figure cocked his head, his arms rising into a slow clap. Each clap sent an echo cracking through the forest, the man beginning to amble toward you.

“Now that was just beautiful. Truly,” You stumbled, forcing yourself to rise to your feet– your hand swiftly grazed the hatchet in your makeshift holster, hood slipping from your head, folding back against your neck. The man paused with raised hands, halting any further movement closer toward you, just a few feet before the line drawn in chalk. Shadows clouded his face from the neck up, pale skin making itself known in the moonlight. A man– a white man. “Woah woah, hey. I don't mean no harm,” he soothed with a deep southern drawl, the words dripped from his lips as if his voice had doused a fire in honey. “I just happened t’hear yer singin’ as I was walkin’ by. Didn't wanna scare y’off.”

You take your time eyeing the man before you. His collar was loose and near sweat-drenched, the glint of a small, gold chain wrapped his collarbones, the light blue cuffs of his sleeves pulled tight at his wrists. Dark suspenders lined his torso and down his back, a makeshift band splayed across his chest, presumably for an instrument on his back. You stayed quiet, white-knuckling the hatchet at your side. The man ducked his head forward and out of the shadows, short black curls slicked his forehead in sweat. Every move the man took was measured, yet deliberate. “My name's Remmick.” You slid the hatchet from the holster, gripping it by the nape of wood just before the blade. Nothing about this man was natural. His lopsided grin gave him the chills and he seemed more relaxed than normal to be threatened with a hatchet. What's a white man doing in the middle of the woods at night, anyway? By himself?

Every inch of the man rang false, every part of your body screamed danger. The man's deep, brown eyes seem to shine in the dark, darting down to your iron-grip. “No need to be on high alert. I swear, I meant no harm. S’just–” he spoke, his body language suddenly shifting as he gestures into the open air. “Well, when I heard yer voice, I was just curious– I mean that was a damn near siren call. Thought I was bein’ lured in by some angel, maybe worse.” he chuckles. The corners of his mouth curl upward with awkward, yet playful amusement, like he'd been waiting for you to laugh. You didn't. Instead, your gaze flits to the glint of his teeth briefly, unsure.

You remain unmoving from your place, feet anchored into the dirt behind the line. Remmick’s smile fades, nodding his head softly in understanding as his finger undulates across the side of his neck, the sound of his nail lightly scratching skin filling the silence between you. “My mistake, didn't mean’ta set ya off ‘r nothin’.” he reluctantly turns on his heel, glancing down at the guitar in your hand before he leaves. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding as the man takes a few steps away and “–Wait a second,” he pauses, spinning right back around and sauntering forward. Your nerves rake up against your spine, defensive. “Is that–? Nah, it can't be…” You must've made a face of obvious confusion, because the man jabs a finger at the guitar in your hand. “Sorry, s’just– I knew a man who had a guitar just like that one in yer hand. Ah, what was his name again..?” He pressed a finger to his lips as if he was trying to recall something. Just this once, you leaned forward, eyes hopeful. “Started with’a…S–” You took a step forward, finding feeling in his legs. “You knew my daddy?” you asked, sucking in a breath of desperation.

Hook, line and sinker.

Remmick pauses, not quite looking in your direction as he nods along. “Yeah, yeah I knew ‘im. We was good friends.” he paused, like he needed to collect his thoughts. “Not for long, heard somethin’ happened. Matter a’fact, I was actually headin’ this way to check up on ‘im.” Your heart dips in disappointment for a moment before the man speaks again, “Wait a minute– yer his…” You don't miss the way the man’s eyes roll over your frame, and you swallow down a shudder of humiliation.

“Son. I'm his son.” You fill in with false confidence, voicing pitching up. Who on earth would believe that? Swinging the guitar over your shoulder to rest against your back, your hand fidgets at the holster at your side, slowly pushing the hatchet back into its leather. Remmick gives an absent nod in understanding, hand resting over his hip. Pretending to not notice. “Well, I hope he's all right–” Deciding to hopefully spare yourself from words of lithe pity, you quickly interject, “He's dead.” You did your best to hide the tremble of a newborn doe’s legs in your voice, unsure why you're willingly offering up so much information at the mere mention of your daddy.

The man’s small smile falters for a moment, settling into a deep frown. You could comment on how something had shifted in the way he looked at you. Maybe with understanding, maybe sadness, maybe something more. “Ah,” He bows his head in respect, dragging his hand against his chest and over his thin, mussed dress shirt. “‘M sorry for yer loss…hm, that there’s’a real shame.” he sighed. There was a beat of silence before you spoke again– spoke more than a few words for the first time in weeks. “How'd.. how'd you know him?” you asked, suddenly growing confidence in his voice. Even bold enough to take a step forward. The man stood still for a moment, his eyes flicking to your dirt-washed leather boot breaching ever closer toward the line with a small smile that made your stomach swirl with unease. He tilts his head, curious.

Quiet for a moment, as if he'd been enjoying the silence– how you lingered with bated breath. “Yer sure bein’ careful not to step on over this line. Why is that? What's it for?” he questions, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Y’sure yer supposed to be out here on yer own so late at night?” You stilled in confusion at how hard the conversation had shifted, and whatever brief connection you had flickered– dimmed. You gave a brief and uncertain nod. The man mirrored the tilt of his head, doubtful. His eyes squinted, casting a sliver of moonlight over his eyes. “Nevermind,” you mumbled, feeling dumb for prying at old stories about some man and a ghost. Twigs crunched beneath your feet as you slowly pulled away, his eyes trailing after you. “Sorry for askin’. Goodnight, sir.” you muttered awkwardly, shuffling away from him and the interaction alone. As you walked away, his voice echoed behind you. “I could tell ya. Nothin’ but small stories to share…but I'd rather tell ya while I make sure you get home okay. S’not safe to be wanderin’ out alone in these woods.”

You paused, pulling your gaze from the trees before you and turning on your heels once again to face him. This time, you stepped closer than you had before, your boots toeing a hair over the line. This wasn't foolish, was it? You'd be getting home safe, swapping stories with a man who knew your father…but at the cost of him knowing where you live. You could already hear Mama’s voice, shrill and angry. “What did I tell you about strangers? Let alone a white man?! I don’t give a damn if he knew the first lady– you don't talk to strangers!” You hesitate, briefly giving him a once-over with furrowed brows. “You're not… some kinda killer or thief are you?” Remmick gives a dry chuckle, hollow, as he steps forward. Only a few inches bordered the space between you two. “You think your daddy’s the type to be friends with men like that?” he asks, the question not needing a response. Your hand laced around the handle of your hatchet falls to your side, shoulders dropping slightly with a small sigh.

You turn on your heel, eyes never leaving the man as you wait for him to follow before he speaks again, “That mean I'm chaperonin’?” The question slips from his lips like a joke, but he makes no effort to move, his hands pulled tightly behind his back, as if he was genuinely waiting for an answer. You slowly nod, “It's fine, I don't mind,” you insisted. “If my daddy trusted you, I guess I can too.” The man gives a borderline wolfish grin, walking over the threshold languidly. He took his time, keeping himself a few steps just behind you, voice low and lazy. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

You ignore the way the nickname had sewn shivers into your spine, along with the small brush of heat sent straight to your stomach. Your boots crunched against the brittle rocks beneath your soles, the shudder of the leaves in the wind filling the silence. You didn't have to turn to know his gaze was fixed onto you. His footsteps were quiet, eerily quiet for a man that walked without a care in the world or a place to be. You ignored the unsettling presence stretching into the air, deciding against your better judgement for dry, small talk.

“So, how'd you meet my dad?” You didn't bother to crane your neck to speak, figuring there'd be no need to. It did nothing to ease the sickly feeling in your gut festering as the man rasped behind you. “Got into some trouble I couldn't get out of.” he answered, oddly dry. There was a stark difference in how he'd been acting a few minutes ago to now. For a man who seemed to know a lot about your daddy, he sure spoke of him in few words. In fact, the only consistent sound between them were his ragged breaths, seemingly only growing louder. Almost as if he was…getting closer? You couldn't help but sneak a glance at him.

He had been walking behind you the same distance as before, but he looked…off. Looked distracted, as if the distance had been intentional. You watched as his eyes lazily shifted from the trees to the lake, occasionally down the beaten path you'd been walking. It didn’t look like he was waiting for anything to happen, no. Besides, it was rare for wolves and bears to keep company on this side of the woods, let alone any man. No, in fact, it was like he was memorizing everything around him. He rolled his wrist in his palm, his thumb brushing over a vein. The grip he had on himself looked tight, strained. You could see his jaw clenching from the spill of moonlight. Was he in pain? Why would he be? Why now? His eyes snap to meet your own, the slight cock of his head causes you to quickly pry your eyes away from him like skin from an open flame. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment at getting caught openly ogling the man, hoping you hadn't given him any false promises or ideas. You hesitated to open your mouth again to break the silence, but it seemed he’d noticed the uncomfortable stretch of silence between you two this time, speaking first. You could feel his eyes sliding down over your frame, a little longer than necessary. “That’s'a real nice cape you got there, fits ya real nice.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bowing your head slightly into a nod. You tried to keep your focus on the path ahead, your hand brushing against familiar trees stained with you and your daddy’s handprints. If he noticed, he made no mention of it, continuing on about your clothes as you peered past the branches and leaves shrouded in shadows. “Reminds me of that lil’ story they read to li’l lads much younger than you, ‘Little Red Riding Hood’,” he droned. Quietly noting the slight shift of his accent, you hum in response, making sure you didn't come off as dismissive despite your desperate longing for silence. He continues on, and you make no effort to shut him down from the unnecessary amount of conversation between the two of you. It'd be impolite.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he carried on, no doubt unaware of your complete lack of interest in a discussion about your appearance. You had enough of that already. You decided not to comment on how much he spoke of you compared to your daddy for only knowing you a short while. “A lil' girl, skippin’ about in the woods for her mama to go visit her sick grandma…” he pauses, and you could hear his tongue slicking over his lips. You restrain yourself from a full-body shudder in case he’d notice, and he pushed on, his steps a little louder with every drag of his feet. “Basket full of bread n’ everythin’ else, and then she runs into this… big, bad wolf.” A sick feeling settles into your stomach again as the sound of his tone shifts a little lower and into something foreign. Your pace stutters almost imperceptibly– almost, the hairs rising at the nape of your neck. You quickly blanket the sudden fear with a scoff, ignoring how your throat runs dry. “Right, so if I'm supposed to be ‘Red Riding Hood’, does that mean you’d be the big bad wolf?” you ask, burying the question in humor over your terror, not even bothering to hide the brief look over your shoulder.

There’s a small flicker of something dark and heavy pooling in his eyes– like oil as he laughs, too hearty to settle your nerves. As if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. It was beyond eery. Some strange man who showed up out of nowhere, walking you home with promises of stories about your daddy, only for him to ramble on about children's tales. “I just think she was mighty impolite. Thing is– lil’ Red could’ve just shared some of her treats. Not like it would've harmed anybody,” he rambled on, as if he wasn’t drinking the terror itching beneath your skin. “‘S awfully rude to chat up a storm ‘bout someone else’s hot meal in front of someone starved of one.” His voice had sunk into a deep rasp, pulling fear out of you like wool from a spindle.

You halted in your tracks, the lights of your front porch luminous in the far distance. Spinning around to face him like bullets locked in a chamber, your voice cut through his, sharp– the kind of tone your daddy taught you to use when you meant business. “Thanks for walking me home, sir,” you could hear the slight tremor in your voice, falling short of the business end. Remmick falters, his legs sputtering into a stop, the smile he wore long gone. Whether it was the trees’ branches curled over his head or your imagination, a shadow had cast over his eyes. “I can get there myself now.” you reassured him, keeping your forced smile brief as you gave a curt nod off. He cocks a brow, amused. “Well, I didn't walk all this way just to be left here in the woods without makin’ sure you made it to the door.” he stated. His tone was definite, not combative– almost like he was testing how far he could push your courtesy, which had already been stretched thin. “I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but I really should be going now.” you bowed your head, stepping backward. He follows, taking a step forward in turn. “Y’really don't get it, do you lambkin?” Any shred of playfulness had been stripped from his voice, his tone bare and heavy. “I had no intention of lettin’ you up n’ leave, not without a lil’ taste, anyway.”

An echo of dread sinks into your bones, shaky legs stumbling backward. And again, he follows, his hands still clenched behind his back. Every inch of your body is screaming to fight, run, anything to get away from him. The air between you grew thick as fear settled into your nerves. Remmick inhales, breathing in deep. “Y’know, I can smell you from here. Can hear yer lil’ heart beatin’ out of yer chest there.” he rasped. Instinctively, your hand clutches your hatchet, drawing it from your holster. He clicks his tongue, sauntering forward. “I wasn't lyin’ when I said I find it rude to dangle a hot meal in front of someone starved.” he confessed, now close enough to flick a lock of hair from your face. The moon filtered through the clouds, revealing a silver lustre over his eyes. Saliva lined over his chin, thick and white as his voice rumbled. “‘N yer all I got, lil’ Red.”

Without hesitation, you grip the splintering wood of your hatchet, swinging it deep into the cave of his shoulder, the wedge of it dipping into his collarbone. Blood rolled from his shoulder in waves, drenching his sky-washed, collared shirt in nothing but red. Remmick howled in pain, staggering as he clutched the handle protruding from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he growled, chest heaving something fierce with eyes drawn back to you. Slowly, he wrenched the hatchet from his flesh, and the sound of his bones slickened with blood cracking drew in nausea from you as you watched. You don't bother lingering, fleeing down the small incline and toward those porch lights that felt miles away. You spare a glance behind you to see Remmick just standing there, throwing the hatchet down into the softened dirt. Fire had burned over those silver, moonlit eyes as he called for you, his voice echoing through the forest. “Runnin’ will get ya nowhere, lil’ lamb. There ain’t nowhere you can hide under moonlight where I won't find you.”

And here you are, your legs burning like wax to a flame. Your hand shot out to shield you from a larger branch nearly thwacking you in the face. Closer, I can see the light. The trees seemed to part for you like water as you pushed forward. You ignored the burn of your lungs as the air grew thin, grasping at the air desperately to catch your breath. Your heart pounding with fear was an understatement, every ounce of blood in your body singing to get home. And then, darkness. You could hear your body fall to the ground with a reverberated thud.

┄─━ ࿅ ༻ ♱ ༺ ࿅ ━─┄

Your head swam, nausea never fading. A small blur of Remmick sat across from you, and too many fingers to count strum at the banjo in his lap. You did your best to blink into your vision focus. “Where is..where I–” Remmick’s head shot up, his voice ringing out like bells as laughter bubbled into the open air.

“Ho–ly shit. Almost knockin’ the livin’ daylights outta you must’ve givin’ you a concussion there, sweetheart.” He's quick on you before you can blink, gentle hands grazing over… something over your ankle. Something tight, numbing. The stark comparison to how he'd been before to now made your head spin. Your head burns white-hot with pain, your eyes sliding your gaze over him to watch as he hovers above you. “Careful how yer lookin’ at me there, darlin’,” he admonished, pulling his hands away from you and settling back into his chair, his arms folded over the back as he leaned forward. “Ain't nothin’ stoppin’ me from killin’ you and takin’ what I want–” your gaze fell down to the cotton sheets you sat on, your back against the headboard while he continued on. “But I consider myself’a gentleman. Yeah– I need you to know me.” Your eyes fluttered closed, wanting nothing more than to drift off. You would've– if it weren't for the snap of Remmick’s fingers pulling you further into consciousness. “Ah-ah, hey, don't go noddin’ off on me now. Where are you?” His words slipped into your head as you stirred, realization sinking in. Where are you? Your eyes darted from the walls to the soft bed beneath you. Not your walls, not your bed. Not your home. “I..I don't–” Remmick nods. “That's right, you don't know.” he scolded, like he owned the right to be disappointed. “I oughta think that would've woken you up a lil’ faster there, lambkin.”

And it does. You jolt forward from the bed, snagging your foot at the edge of the mattress as you tried to pull your legs underneath you. Your eyes drift down to the rope tied firmly around your ankle, caught on the bed post. Your boots had been taken off, tossed into the corner of the room. Remmick's eyes follow your own, untangling the rope tethering you to the wooden leg, his movements slow and languid– like you weren't trapped with him. You hauled your legs from the edge, pulling away from his touch like a burn. He pulled away as well, leaning back against his chair. Silence laced the air between the two of you. No, he’d been quiet, like he'd been waiting for you to speak. Not that you needed permission. Your lips part with a slight tremble, voice dry and brittle. “Are you going to kill me?”

He pauses, allowing silence to linger once again, possibly entertaining the idea. “I could. ‘M capable. I mean, what would yer old man say ‘bout you talkin’ to strangers?” Your mouth grew sour, the taste swimming over the bed beneath your tongue. “Don't talk about him.” you grit out, the words snapping from your jaw. The walls around you seemed to creak and groan, breathing you in, tasting your defiance. Or maybe you were just deluded. Remmick stood, pulling his chair around to sit properly. He leaned back with a tilt of his head, legs spread and inviting. “Careful,” he warned, words short and stern. “Y’ain’t got no one here to save you now, lil’ lamb.” Remmick leaned forward, that red sliver in his eyes returning. “Now, I've been nothin’ but kind to you. Gave you my name– my company. There's nothin’ I hate more than my gifts bein’ taken for granted.” he rumbled.

Your tongue laid pliant in your mouth, useless. Didn't seem like the time to be mouthy, anyway. Deft fingers drew over the wooden footer, tracing lines and patterns near your foot. “You ain't give me as much of a ‘hello’, singin’ high n’ sweet over yer daddy’s guitar. Took my interest in you as a threat.” he drawled, almost melancholic. “‘S been years since I shared company with anyone...” he trailed off. Scarred knuckles graze the bare skin of your ankle. “Since I've eaten. Properly.” he admitted. “‘M tired of settlin’ for filth. Need me somethin’ sweet…” he murmured, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes flit to meet your own.

Terror settled into your skin, drawing your legs tight over your chest. He sighs, slipping his hand away. “I can strike a deal with you, y’know. You wanna know what really happened to yer daddy.” he avouched. “Wanna know the names of the sons of bitches that killed ‘em too.” his voice dips low, telling. Your ears perk up slightly, enough for him to notice. “If you give me what I want, I'll give you everythin’ yer pretty little beatin’ heart desires and more.” he tempted, sin spilling from his lips with practiced ease.

Anyone else knew better. Anyone else would say no to those sweet little words– knew they sunk into your soul with a weight you couldn't carry. But you didn't care about knowing better, there was nothing else you needed to know besides curing the heartache he'd left you with. Mama's words fell on deaf ears as you sighed. You leered at the man before you, measured. He looked sweaty, shirt stained of moisture and blood from the gash you had given him earlier, the shirt torn open from his shoulder. Looked as if it'd been healing up nicely while you were knocked unconscious. Shock couldn't have been drawn any more from you. You knew what he was when saliva dribbled from his mouth, fire burned within his eyes– he was the devil, coming before you to bear you his humble gifts. “What is it you want?”

“Ain't it obvious?” he asked, with a tilt of his head. A habit he had, you noticed. He didn't elaborate, not needing to with the way his eyes raked over your frame. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up to a name. Whether it's carved into a wall, inked into a sheet of paper or whispered into your ear...you’ll know it was me who gave it to you,” he stated. “‘N after yer done, I'll be there that night after you’ve killed him to give you another– that n’ more.” You sputter, cutting through his words as your brain tried to process what he was saying. “Wha-what happens if I can't kill him in a day? What If I need time?” He grins, wolfish– the same grin he gave you in the woods. “Then it'll take as long as it takes, darlin’. If y’need my help, just whisper my name after sunfall n’ I’ll be there. But no matter how long it takes, I'll still be there after every kill. To take what's mine.” You let in a shaky breath. “I'll do it.

“‘M sure you would at the thought alone darlin’, but I need t’know you mean it. I need a first.” he avowed, nodding in a matter-of-fact way. “A first?” you parroted in confusion. He nodded again, “A first of yours. Somethin’ you've never offered up, never shared. First kill, first shed of blood…” his gaze kept to the floors before his next words, locking on your own. “...first kiss.” A shiver runs down your spine as you mull over sharing any of your firsts with the creature– the devil. The silence doesn't last long, as he speaks again with a sickening, polished grin.

“So, what's it gonna be?”

┄─━ ࿅ ༻ ♱ ༺ ࿅ ━─┄

Red fell from your shoulders as he loosened the strings of your cloak, unburdened by the memory of your father as your mind begins to cloud in need with his lips on your own, his tongue pushing past teeth. Remmick’s hands were slow pulling away your dark and dirt-mudded shirt, unbuttoning the cuffs. “Sweet boy,” he murmured, low and heavy. “So good for me.” he cants, and he's wrong. You were being anything but good, spread open under the devil’s touch, far from home as your mama slept sound. Couldn't even leave a note, not that you would've. Not that you could bare your shame to the disappointment in her eyes, after coveting your lust– your need.

You're pulled away from the thought as a finger hooked into your bandages wound tight over your chest. You made a shamefully poor attempt to stop him, your hands too heavy and heated. The bandages barely fall from your skin before his mouth is on you. He moves to the dulled swell of your chest with rapt attention, his tongue laving over a nipple, the back of your hand rushes over your mouth as you stifle a moan. “Ah-ah, none of that now,” he rumbled, reverent. “You ain't gon’ rob me of hearin’ you fall apart for me pretty.” His teeth graze over, nipping at the bud and you honest-to-god whimper, writhing in his arms. He gives the other the same treatment– the same attention and care, a peek of his tongue sending you further over the edge. His jaw slacks, moaning into your skin as he moves his head down, down, down past loosened bandages. You made a noise of protest, head slumped against the pillows. “I don't– I'm not…I can't–” He hushes your sweet cries, the words uselessly slurred on your tongue.

“Yer body don't gotta be made to sin for me to crave it, darlin’.” Your head lolls to the side, granting him easy access. His lips trail over your skin, your throat bare and open for him. A whimper breaks out from deep in your chest, fire thrumming in your veins, your stomach pooling heat only he could swim in. “See, sweet thing?” he hums, tongue lapping at the soft of your neck. “Look how easy you open up for me once you see how good I can make it for you.” His hands strum heat from you with the barest of touch, your body caving in to want more than anything. “Such a pretty lil’ thing, all limp and wantin’...” Nails rake over the expanse of your tummy, fingertips tracing your wants like a man starved. Your eyes flutter, coated in a clouded haze when he reaches below your navel. Your head swims, hesitance no longer holding you back as you card soft fingers in his hair. He groans– like you were sin handed to him over silver.

He made himself room between your thighs, thighs bracketing his face. Tasting you wasn't enough, he needed to be buried into your bones. He hardly needed invitation for what he was doing to you, your head turned mush at every touch. You threw an arm over your face, humiliation burning into you under his scrutiny, those dark eyes stilled over you. “Don't feel shame, lambkin,” He coos softly, pulling your arm away. He guides your hand over the slack of his jaw, caving into your touch. “Feel me.” Your lips trembled as you spoke, and god– is that how you sounded? Your voice was all high and sweet as you spoke. “‘M not made right– don't look how I wanna down..down there.” Remmick glowered, like he couldn't bother to hide his annoyance in your words. Like you had no right.

His hands showering you in warmth as he pulls you apart further– your thighs open wide. “A meals’a meal, darlin’. You think ‘m gon’ complain how it's made?” he chuckled, the sound reverberating through you as he pulled away your slacks, tossing them without a care in the word. He marveled at the sight of you, cunt soaked beneath thin cotton. “Fuck,” he groaned, tugging away your underwear. “You might be more than I can handle, sweetness.” He blew cold into your skin, reveling in the way you shuddered beneath him.

His tongue bathed in you, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he lavished your clit with attention. He relished how your back bowed, whining softly into open air. He laved over your cunt, salt-slick from his insistence. “Oh, you treat me so sweet,” he panted, starved. “Wound up with heaven in my hands.” His thumb rolled over your clit, roughened hands pushing you further sensitive. “All it took was talkin’ you into it a lil’, showin’ you how good it could be.” You were anchored in the feeling of him, his hands– his touch the only thing keeping you leveled. Your name left his lips against his will, wanting to keep the letters buried beneath his tongue. “So, so good. Laid out all pretty for me.” He choked back a whimper at your taste, salt melting away to your sweetness, innocence on his tongue. He knew you could be good like this, he just had to dig it out of you a bit. Your stomach coiled, taut with heat as you white-knuckled his curls.

Your chest burned, only satiated by Remmick’s tongue– his touch. “Please, it hurts,” you sobbed, tears staining your cheeks. He pauses, slowly pulling back with slight worry. “Hurts without you touching– make it go away, please.” you begged, the small tremor of your lips sealing your need. His mouth opened in a silent “ah” in understanding, hand cupping your jaw softly. “Forgot about that. Y’Had me worried for a minute there, sweetness,” His thumb trails over your lips, pushing past them and sitting heavy on your tongue. You sigh, appreciative– grateful for his attention. Something you'd never come to know without the foreign heat pooling in your tummy. “A lil’ somethin’ I forgot to tell you when I showed you my lil’ magic trick– when I do it, yer body is commanded to need me– my presence, my touch. Me. You were made mine before I even got t’lay my hands all over you, lil’ lamb.”

His words were garbled under your open sobs, the way he wanted you. “Oh, don't you worry now, it'll wear off. Eventually.” he mutters, mouth on you once again, drinking you in. Seconds pass into minutes of him wrenching pleasure out of you, his mouth coated in slick. It’s only when he wrings you of your first orgasm does he give you more. Then, and only then, does he push those thick fingers past the tight ring of your cunt. You cry out, lips all puffy and pink. He doesn't stop, just slows. Pushing, pushing them into you. You instinctively wrap your hand around his wrist, not stopping him, just holding it there. Bracing. He sighed into the soft of your neck, your blood pulsating beneath your skin. “Been waitin’ for somethin’ like you for long, long time…” he whispers. “I can feel fire in your blood, sweetness. Can feel how it's pulsin’ for me.” His eyes flit to your own as he manages to tear himself from your neck. “Can I, pretty? Would’ya be so kind, hm? Jus’ a lil’ taste…please–” he babbles, his resolve cracking like porcelain. You feel yourself nod, unsure what you're even agreeing to, not even really caring. All that occupied your mind was heat, pure and raw. It was an afterthought when you felt Remmick nip at your neck, blemishing the skin. And then…

Teeth prick your skin as he sinks his teeth down, deep into your throat bared for him. Your mouth opens, the air peeled from your lungs as cold washes over your skin. Something trickles from your neck, fervid. And Remmick groans, something guttural. Tears blur your vision, echoes of Remmick lapping at your skin keep you lucid. He growls, muttering beneath your skin, something ancient. Some words you recognized, most you didn't. “Cho milis rium (So sweet to me),” he keens. “Mo uan milis, tha thu cho math. Cho umhail. (My sweet lamb, you're so good to me.)” His fingers piston into you without falter, curled to reach that sweet spot. You let out a broken sob, mewling into his ear. A shuddering breath is pressed against your shoulder, mumbles of ruin, broken in and soft in your ear. “So pretty– so good, fuck,” he lets out a breathy moan, a desperate, filthy thing. “Needed this– needed you, ‘n yer so sweet–”

He mouthed over your wound, hot breath coating your skin. Your eyes flutter shut, the sound of him fading in and out with your consciousness. He taps your thigh, insistent. Grounding. Your eyes open with warped focus, blurred, feeling something grinding into you– someone. Remmick had been rutting against you, peppering sloppy kisses along your jaw with blood-slickened lips. “Don’t go passin’ out on me, now. Need you nice n’– fuck, warm–” He was desperate, filthy words spewing from his tongue. “Need’ta fuck you. Tell me I can, don't stop me now, please.” his control wavered, slipping out of his grasp and coming undone over you. You nodded, and he swallowed dry. “Say it. C'mon, tell me.” he pleads with a languid grunt, the words rushed– as if shame burned his tongue in needing to beg you for it. “Need you,” you whisper, face flushed as warmth filled your head.

You don't know when you feel it. Maybe after the deep groan into the quiet, or the grip around your thigh, or maybe the first push– his hips sinking closer against you. Pressure. Filling you, holding you captive. It's slow at first– its release, before you feel it again, and again, and again. His cock pumping into you, those dark brown eyes shining slivers of red as he gapes at you. You writhe, whimpering soft. He hushes your small cries, his arms wrapping over you, hand cupping at the nape of your neck. It's enough for you to pull yourself from the haze, enough for you to cling to him. Heat builds in your tummy, and you clench around him, fervent. He moans into the shell of your ear, nothing but filthy squelching coating silence. Your nails bite into his back, digging into his shirt. Why does he still have that filthy thing on? You whine, fuckdrunk, and he notices with a huff of laughter. “I gotcha, sweet thing, fuck– I'll give’ya what’ya want.” he drawls, fucking into you with an unwavering pace. “Please, please–” He growls, a litany of filth spilling from his lips.

White brushes over and paints your vision, Remmick’s hips still snapping into you with fervor, wringing you dry of your orgasm and through the aftershocks of pleasure. Your hips fuck into the air, overstimulated. You weep, soft like silk. “Shh, s’okay. I can make it good, I promise, I'll make it so good.” he groans, greedy and debauched. He comes, pulling out and fucking slick and cum onto the sheets, like he didn't deserve to ruin you any further– to pump you full of sin. He sighs, his high settling as he brushes away tears from your eyes. The two of you pant into the open air, your skin sticky and glossed in sweat. A moment passes, a beat of silence, nothing but your sniffles before he returns. You hadn't even noticed he was gone. Something cold presses into your inner thigh, wet. It laves over your skin as your vision blurs, fighting sleep. “S’Alright. You can rest,” he assures, fingertips brushing over your navel. “You’ll see me again real soon.” The words etched into your consciousness as your vision blacked, exhaustion taking over you.

It’s only when you hear nails rake over the wood beside you do you startle awake, gasping a lungful. Your eyes dart around only to find yourself…in your room? Peering down at your chest, you half-expected bare skin, only to be covered in the same clothes you'd worn before. You scan the room, finding everything exactly how you had left it, except for two things– Your daddy's guitar posed in the corner of your room, leaning flush against the mahogany of the closet door. That, and your hatchet– buried deep into the cracked wood of your dresser. Your eyes roll over to where you'd heard the scratching in your sleep to see letters carved into the wood beneath the windowsill, forming a name. Donovan Greene.

Your jaw sets, lips pressed into a thin line as you toss your bed sheets aside, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. You're thrown off by the sound of your mother hollering from the kitchen echoing into the narrow hallway, muffled by your bedroom door.

“Baby! Get up, you got work to do!”

#remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x male reader #remmick sinners #sinners #sinandguilt

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thedarkestrivernymph · 11 months ago

Text

Infatuation

Yandere!Highschool Sweetheart x gn!Reader

warnings: gore, unreliable narrator

It was sickly, well almost. Or perhaps it was already dangerous and he just missed the last opportunity to clutch onto his fading sanity like a lifeline.

He genuinely didn't know. What he did know was that you, adorable, sweet, pristine,angelic, beautiful, ravishing, mystic, alluring, dazzling, misleading, annoying, irritating, a grotesque form of living had dared to reject him not once, but twice.

What did you mean by you didn't love him anymore—that he was a toxic prick?

He wasn't, he swore! He just couldn't help but keep you all to himself. You were highschool sweethearts after all, no one should have the balls to pick your relationship apart, and yet you did, you dissected the dynamic of your relationship, questioned if it was healthy for the both of you, even going as far as questioning if he was genuine with his loving or simply wanted a little trophy to keep by his side.

That night he was so enraged, he could have smashed your head against the doorknob, in the hopes of the handle poking out one of your eyes and leaving you wounded and in his care. But he didn't.

He was unusually quiet, collected, passive even. It wasn't the first time you tried to escape the grasp of his slimy hands, yet his fangs were far to deeply sunken into your flesh for you, little bird, to free yourself.

“Look at you now, withering and wailing. Didn't take my sweetheart for such a weakling.” he laughed, briskly briefing mania, on the verge of insanity swallowing him whole.

He crouched down, the epilogue that played in his head coming to a fade-out as he squeezed your broken chin in his hand, admiring his handiwork, the severed fingers laying in a pool of blood next to your crumpled up body, blue decorating your ribs, while he made sure to crack both of your knees real good.

Ha, maybe he wasn't on the brink of insanity, but was already mad? Could be.

He chuckled again, watching you in your delirious state, sobbing, only half conscious.

“Now Love, what about our relationship? I think this is just right. You love me and I love you. I am just a little itsy bit mad whenever you question that and have to remind you of my undying devotion, right my dear?”

He purred in delight, forcing your head to bob before your world turned blank with the sound of metal crashing into your skull.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere fic #yandere story #yandere stories #yandere horror #cw: gore #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n

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aphroditeinthesea · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope your day is going well, could you please do headcanons or a scenario for Leo Valdez or Percy Jackson if they were Spider-Man and had a crush on the reader (daughter/child of Demeter) please? Thank you so much and have a good rest of your day! 💜

“ itsy bitsy spider ”

percy jackson x demeter!reader 🌊

⚠️ none

a/n i just watched spider man for the first time

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Math. Ew. Currently, you were engulfed in a packet of just math after math. This is what you get for slacking off, you suppose. It was either do schoolwork or go back to camp to fight monsters.

You were starting to consider the latter.

You heard a growl from your stomach. How long have you been at this now? You stretched your arms behind your head, a crack coming from your joints. You cringed at the feeling. You turned your head towards your windows and

“Oh my gods!” You yelped, nearly falling out of your chair. You were met with a masked face staring into your window.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your brain registered. Spiderman?

You walked over towards the glass, sliding it up, “hello?”

“Hey, uhm,” he was breathing heavily, voice hoarse. “Can I come in?”

You backed up, “yeah, sure.” He made his way inside, clutching his arm. You could see there was some visible tear to his sleeve.

You hesitantly walked over to him, “hey,” you touched his arm gently, “are you alright?”

If he wasn't stressed before, he was now. “Thats why I came here, you're the only person who,” he knew, “I saw with their window open.”

You nodded, “let me see,” he slowly removed his hand from his arm. Revealed was a gash that was dripping blood.

You flinched, “oh my gods,” you looked back up at him, “follow me.” You walked out of your room, leading him to the bathroom. “Sit,” you beckoned towards the toilet. He obeyed, watching you intently.

You knelt down, digging through the cabinet. You finally gathered all you needed before turning back to him.

“I like the flowers,” he commented, motioning towards the potted plants aligning the bathroom.

You smiled, “thanks, I grow them myself.” You poured some rubbing alcohol on a wash cloth, “this is going to burn.”

He nodded, “okay.”

You pressed the fabric onto his arm. He threw his head back as he hissed, “gods.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what did you say?

“Nothing.”

You nodded, “here,” you squeezed out some neosporin, “that better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He admired the way your hair fell in your face as you focused on making sure you even spread the gel.

You looked back up at him, “I have some gauze then you can probably go.”

“Oh.”

You tightly wrapped the bandage around his arm to stay firm, “is that too tight?”

He did not answer.

“Spiderman?”

You looked up to see him already staring at you, “what?”

You quietly laughed, “is it too tight?”

He shook his head, “no, no, it's perfect.”

“Good,” you stepped back, “you can probably go, if you want.”

“Yeah, right.” He stood up, “thanks, Y/N.”

“What?”

“You know my name?”

He just stared at you for a minute, “I should go.”

He began walking, but you felt the urge to call after him. “Wait, uhm,” you bit your lip, “you can stay, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks. You had just asked him to stay. He was gonna faint.

He turned around, “I will.” He stepped closer to you, "you're not just saying that because of my amazing physique?”

You tilted your head with a smile, “maybe.”

So, you somehow found yourself laying beside Spiderman in your bed. He tossed one of your stuffed animals up in the air over and over again as the two of you spoke about whatever. For someone with a hidden identity, he was an open book.

He reminded you so much of someone, but you just could not place it. Something about his voice.

“You remind me of one of my friends from camp.”

“Really?”

You nodded, leaning closer to him, resting on your fist, “yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

You smiled, avoiding his eyes, “Percy.”

“Weird name.”

“What?” You looked back over to him, “no, he’s sweet.”

He grinned under the mask, “do you have a crush on him or something?”

You stayed silent, covering your face with your hands.

He sat up, “you totally do!”

You shook your head, “I don't know!” You defend, “he’s sweet, and he has like a nice face, I guess.”

He leaned closer to you, “I could have a nice face.”

“I’m sure you do, Spidey.” You felt yourself pulling towards him like a magnet. You found your hand leading up to his face, touching the fabric. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

You closed your eyes as you moved the fabric. You could feel his soft, subtly stubbly skin. With the mask still in your hand, you pressed your lips to his. His hand touched the curve of your back to pull you closer.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were met with sea green ones.

“Nice face?”

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson smut #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson x you #percy x reader #percy jackson x y/n

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cherryredstars · 2 years ago

Text

★- Popular

Main Masterlist

SFW Masterlist

💎Company Matters (CEO Miguel Series) ★ completed

Taglist Request (closed) In The Job Description After Office Hours Job Benefits Extras Appreciation [Reverse AU]

🚪Girl Next Door (Series) ★ completed

Taglist Request (closed) Next Door Girl Next Door The Shared Wall The Guest The Noise Complaint Extras The Move

🍒Popped Cherries! (Non-Plot Smut)

Hard Day's Distraction Just A Bit of Training ★ It's Mutual Flutter ★ The Helping Hand Mig's Visuals Funny Feeling Forgiveness (Request) ★ The Game★ ↳ Round Two (Request) ↳ The Final Round (Request) Summer Fun (Request) Patience (Request) Just A Man (Request) ★ Angel (Request) Accessories (Request) ↳ Dizzy (Request) Steamy (Request) Irrational (Request) Slippery (Request) Just the Tip ★ Heat (Request) ★ Biology (Request) ★ ↳ Positive Results (Request) ↳ The Test (Request) (SFW) Gentle (Request) Tired (Request) Bruises (Request) Pt. 1 ↳ Say You Promise (Request) Buldge (Request) ★ Stress Toy (Request) Toy Review (Request) Flexible (Request) Milked (Request) Sensation (Request) Fit (Request) Power (Request) Commission (Request) All Fours (Request) Mine (Request) Pain and Pleasure (Request) Switching Shifts (Request) On Your Knees (Request) Buzz (Request)

🍒Cherry Buds! (Headcanons)

Mig's NSFW Headcanons ★ Mig's Dating Headcanons (N/SFW) Curvy!Reader x Miguel (Request) (N/SFW) ★ Tall Spidey Reader x Miguel (Request) (N/SFW)

🍒Sweet Cherries! (One-Shots)

Tutor Me (Request) ★ ↳ Date Me ★ Tight Fit (Request) ★ The Witching Hour (Request) Examination (Request) Rated R (Request) Part 1 Itsy Bitsy Spider (Request) Make ups (Request) Older (Request) ★ Pinched (Request) Welcome Gift (Request) ★ Tease (Request) Hot Shot (Request) Cheater, Cheater (Request) The Princess (Request) Miss VP (Request) Forget (Request) The Life (Request) Ribbons (Request) ↳ Wrapped Up (Request) ↳ Love song (Request) SFW So This is Love (Request) Stellar Experience (Request) Punishment (Request) Tired Miguel Reality TV (Request) Revenge (Request)

More in the 1K Prompts Masterlist

#cherry's masterlists🍒#company matters series💎#girl next door series🚪

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qwimblenorrisstan · 1 year ago

Text

The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After you’re introduced to his family and move into the House of Wind, you begin training with Azriel as a way to pass time and cope with your losses, but something unexpected happens, and a seed of jealousy begins blooming in another female’s heart.

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of blades, family deaths, itsy bitsy angst, nothing too bad.

A/N: I feel like this isn’t my best work but it pulled me out of writer’s block so whatever, lmk if you want a part three, hope you enjoy it <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

When you woke in the morning, Azriel was gone, probably off to his room, or house now that you thought of it.

You weren’t sure why you expected him to still be there, or why a little bit of you felt disappointed that he wasn’t.

Stumbling out of bed, you found some clothes in the closet that looked like they’d been borrowed from you for the time being, a few dresses and some pairs of tunics and pants. You ended up putting on a simple romper that went down just above your kneecap, a light flowery purple. Your niece would’ve liked it, you thought.

Miraculously, there were fresh toiletries and supplies in the bathroom, and so you brushed your teeth so hard your gums bled, and pulled a brush through your unruly hair until it finally settled down a bit.

After what felt like an hour of trying to smooth down the loose ends, you gave an exasperated sigh and moved on to slip some shoes on your feet. When you were finally all dressed and ready, you looked in the bathroom mirror at your reflection.

You looked…fine. Not overly bad, but the lasting effects of your grief were still obvious in the slight redness of your eyes, or the hint of puffiness in your cheeks where tears had rolled down the night before.

“I’m going to be fine.”

You murmured to yourself while staring into the mirror. You were upset and sad and angry, but the world didn’t stop, and neither could you.

“Y’know, usually when I want to feel good about myself I just go flirt with the ladies, but to each their own-“

A low, brusque but amused voice drawled from the doorframe, making you jump and spin to face him, one hand over your now-racing heart.

“Mother above, you scared me!”

You said, sighing and shaking your head before looking up at the stranger.

Not exactly a stranger, you reminded yourself. The General. You could recognize him almost immediately, his large muscular body, the stubble on his face, and his golden hazel eyes, not to mention the dark black hair that was tied back in a man-bun right now.

He only chuckled at your fright, giving you nothing short of an idiotic grin. A hint of sympathy was behind those eyes, you thought.

“So you’re the lady friend Az brought, huh? Welcome to the family, then.”

He said, not elaborating any further as he slung his large arm around your shoulder and began guiding you out of your room, into what seemed like a dining room. A glimmer of something knowing also lurked in his eyes.

The High Lady, Feyre sat down in one of the chairs, Nyx bouncing on her knee and eagerly shoving a piece of bacon down his throat while Rhys watched and snorted in amusement. Another female, Elain, was in the kitchen, cooking up a large breakfast for the entire family and seeming happy while doing it. Nesta seemed to be helping if only to have a taste of the bacon while it was still steaming hot how she liked it.

“Go have a seat, I’ll have our Elain make you a plate.”

He said, releasing you from his grasp if only to push you towards the table. Before you could manage thanks, he’d already strode off into the kitchen, arms wrapped around Nesta’s waist as he pressed little kisses into her neck from behind.

You hesitantly sat down in one of the chairs, feeling a bit out of place in this family’s home. Feyre and Rhys both glanced up at you, sharing a glance between themselves before she gave a polite nod and warm smile, going back to feeding Nyx.

“Ah. I hope you slept well, at least. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

Rhys said, still glancing over at Nyx and quietly snickering before turning his full attention to you. As you opened your mouth to speak, his expression turned a bit serious, making you pause a moment.

“I hate to tell you like this, but because of the…business, you and your family were running, nothing can be held against Kier or his men. I’m truly sorry I can’t-“

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

You cut him off, feeling bad for it but then going on, watching as his violet eyes almost widened. You knew that nothing could be done from the moment Kier’s men had stormed into the bakery. There was nothing Rhys could’ve done to save them, and nothing you could’ve done either, other than shutting down the business.

“You’re already letting me stay in your home, with your family, and providing for me, so please, don’t apologize for anything.”

You finished. He paused a moment, before giving a slight dip of his head as a nod, that he wouldn’t do it again despite what he might believe.

Elain and Nesta came out, plates in their hands while Cassian trailed behind with another few in his, and they passed them out to everyone, including you. It was a healthy variety of normal breakfast foods, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, hash browns, etc.

They all sat down and began digging in while talking, and you weren’t about to not follow their example.

“I forget how much of a bitch cooking can be,”

Nesta said, before taking a bite of toast.

“Yeah, guess we are a bit spoiled back home, huh? Living in a sentient House and all.”

Cassian said with that big idiotic grin, nudging her with his elbow as he swallowed. That comment alone made you swirl with questions.

“Sentient House?”

You asked, raising a brow. That only made Rhys chuckle and shake his head.

“Yes, Cassian and Nesta live in the House of Wind. It’s a sentient home right off of Velaris, on the border almost.”

He replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t forget Az, he’s quiet but he can be a menace when he wants to be.”

Cassian said with his mouth full. Nesta rolled her eyes and swatted him for talking with his mouth full, at which he dramatically acted like he’d suffered a fatal wound.

“You don’t know the half of it. Once he rearranged my entire personal bookshelf in reverse alphabetical order. It took me an entire day just to sort them back out.”

She said, huffing just at the memory alone. You couldn’t help the little bit of genuine laughter that escaped your lips from that.

“What did you do to piss him off that bad?”

You then asked, and Nesta smirked, clearly enjoying thinking about what she'd done to poor Azriel.

“I gave them some money and told them to go have fun. They ended up winning a jackpot that Azriel had to go claim the money for. You should’ve seen the owner’s face when he realized that the shadows had won, I don’t think the shadowsinger has set foot in that place since.”

She said, and Cassian began laughing at that alone, while Rhys and Feyre snickered, and Nyx began giggling and babbling over a hash brown. Cassian’s face went thoughtful for a moment before he glanced up at you.

“You know, you could start training with Az maybe. It’s sort of a custom for our newcomers to start training.”

He said, glancing at Feyre and then at Nesta, who both raised a brow at him. Elain then spoke up.

“He’s always on missions, though. Wouldn’t the inconsistency make it useless?”

She asked in that annoyingly innocent tone, almost like she was a child trying to please their mother with how dainty and sweet they were. You didn’t know why it annoyed you as much as it did, the fact that she knew his schedule, and was actively discouraging you from spending time with him.

“He’s not on too many, things have settled down since the war ended. I think it could help keep your mind off things, too.”

Rhys said with a little nod as if confirming this.

“It’d be more practical if you moved to the House, then. It gets a bit too quiet sometimes, so we wouldn’t mind.”

Nesta said with a shrug, studying you intently for a moment before going back to eating her breakfast, halfway on Cassian’s lap already.

“I’ll ask Az after breakfast, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Cassian said, before shoving another mouthful of fried egg in his mouth, at which Nesta cringed and gave him a look, playfully disgusted.

*********************************************************

“You want me to what?”

“Train her, just in the mornings like what I do with Nesta and her friends. It'll get her mind off of things.”

“Cassian, you know that I can't commit to that with my work-”

“I think you're just scared of females.”

Cassian retorted, in the most serious tone he could manage while Azriel gave him an incredulous look, annoyed.

“I am not scared of females.”

He said firmly, glaring at his brother.

“Oh yeah? When's the last time you've had a hookup?”

Azriel’s mind went frustratingly blank at that. He huffed, before replying.

“I don't see how that's relevant.”

Cassian let out a hoot of laughter, only making the crimson blush creeping up Azriel’s neck progress further.

“See? You are scared of females. Are your nightmares haunted by the sight of pussy?”

Cassian said, making his voice quiver on purpose with his last sentence, making a little ‘oooooh’ sound as if a ghost were haunting Azriel. Azriel only scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fine. I'll train her if you'll stop tormenting me.”

He said, a begrudging resignation in his usually firm and cold tone. Cassian gave a grin of triumph, clapping his brother on the back as he walked past him.

“Good. Treat her well, she's been through a lot.”

He said, before walking out and leaving Azriel alone in the cold office he owned in the House of Wind.

*********************************************************

He seemed to have snuck into your life much faster than you'd expected him to.

You’d moved into the House of Wind, which hadn’t been difficult given your lack of actual things to pack and move, and very slowly adjusted to living in a sentient House.

It still scared the shit out of you when the bath would randomly start running at the perfect temperature, with all the oils you loved, at the exact time when you were thinking about how much you’d like a bath. Or the times when perfect meals would show up, both healthy and also satisfying your specific cravings, and how the House almost adjusted to fit your needs every time, providing you with everything you needed, clothes, entertainment, food, water, and more.

The training was a different subject, though.

You still could barely do the stretches Azriel tried to work you through. His lithe, muscular body could pull it off flawlessly, which you supposed was a given for someone who had centuries of practice and experience. Most of the time, it only succeeded in you being sore and aching in the mornings, and that was how it went for what felt like years, though only a month had passed.

There was one thing you particularly enjoyed about your training, though.

“Like this, your arm should be hooked around, but not depending on it too much..”

His voice was quiet but strong, confident, and sure as he always was in his silent way as he guided you. His own muscular body, donning no shirt, performed the same exercise you were supposed to be doing, and mimicking poorly.

You couldn’t help but be distracted by the winding tattoo that seemed almost alive as the rising sun cast an orange glow of light against his body, creating a perfect contrast and mixture with his already-tanned skin and midnight hair. Not to mention the light purple color that was projected onto the ground through the thinnest parts of his wing’s membrane, the sun casting light against it as well.

Azriel had grown closer to you in the month you’d been around him, and you’d noticed him observing you intently as if to catch every little habit and quirk about you. You’d been watching, too, seeing the way his fingers might twitch if exposed to the cold, or how his wings fluttered ever so slightly when a cool breeze went by, and all of the things he tried too hard to conceal and lock away.

“…”

You snapped out of it, seeing him watching you with a blank stare, only a glimmer of suspicion and curiosity in his dark hazel eyes.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

You said, shaking your head to get yourself back into the headspace of training, where you could forget your grief and sadness, and become something new, something freer and unbound.

*********************************************************

Azriel knew he was pushing it when only one and a half months into your training he slowly began introducing you to swordplay.

He didn’t give you a real sword, over his dead body would he provide a real weapon to a beginner, you had to earn your steel, but for now he gave you a worn wooden one. The same one Nesta had used when Cassian had started training her.

You’d seemed unsure about it, but accepted it without complaint, as you seemed to do with most he did these days. He had caught himself several times, the lingering glances, his hands ‘accidentally’ brushing against your waist, the sparkling heat in his veins when he saw you in those tight Illyrian leathers, trying to obey him and go into the positions he showed you.

He was wondering if you’d caught him, though he already knew the answer.

It was nearly impossible to resist the urge when his shadows screamed and cried silently out for you when they tried to shove you two together and force him to confront you with his suppressed feelings and desires. He’d never felt them so strongly attached to someone other than himself before, and it made him a bit uneasy.

However, it all came to a climax when today, for what felt like the hundredth time, he knocked your wooden sword to the ground and had you pinned beneath his gaze, but this time, his sword against your neck, hands holding you down, something different happened.

*********************************************************

It felt like a warmth blooming throughout your entire body, as if someone had lit the butterflies in your stomach on fire and they were now exploding and popping, sending waves of heat and shock throughout your being. Though you didn’t know what was fully happening, your instincts did.

Azriel stumbled back as if he’d been hit, staring wide-eyed at you, and as you opened your mouth to speak he immediately disappeared in a flurry of shadows and darkness, winnowing somewhere.

Training was over for today, you assumed, as you tossed your wooden sword to the ground in the training ring and walked inside, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, and why he’d seemed so utterly shocked.

You knew he had his eyes on Elain, helping her harden and cook and spending time with her and seeming all too happy about it while training with you seemed like pulling teeth to him.

You tried to shake it off as you headed back into your room to decompress in a hot bath.

*********************************************************

Mate.

The word had hit him like a brick at that moment, and the next thing he knew he was hiccuping and sobbing, mumbling out words to Rhys in his office.

His brother held him close, not questioning what he said for now and just listening.

“She’s my mate, Rhys, and I don’t even think she knows it, but I don’t..how am I going to tell her? She doesn’t want me-“

He’d sobbed into Rhys’ shoulder, his brother quietly shushing him. It had been too long since Azriel had cried, centuries almost, and this had just broken the dam and let the flood tear through his body. The shadows seemed agitated as they swirled around the room, poking and prodding at the furniture and whatnot.

“It’s okay, Az. One step at a time, just breathe, okay? Take a deep breath, and let’s calm down.”

Rhys said in the most soothing, soft tone he could manage, one usually only reserved for Nyx and sometimes Feyre if she was lucky.

However, unbeknownst to either of them, a third person listened in. A female who’d had her eyes on the shadowsinger longer than that new girl thrown into the mix. Elain Archeron believed she was a far better match for Azriel’s stoicism and reserved nature, only she should get the privilege of seeing behind those stone walls he’d built up. A feeling of twisted jealousy and possession curdling in her sweet, loving heart, unlike anything she’d felt before.

That new girl suddenly being Azriel’s mate? That wouldn’t do.

Not at all.

Tags:

@lilah-asteria

@evangeline-xo

@hayrunnwr

@rcarbo1

Part 3

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #writers on tumblr #writers block #writing #fanfiction #light angst #@kdawgiedawg #@rcarbo1 #@lilah-asteria #@hayrunnwr #@evangeline-xo

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trendywaifus · 1 year ago

Text

↳ dramatic irony

an: this is pretty long so buckle up. i hope the pacing is okay too. if you have questions or thoughts about this, feel free to lmk and ill be happy to answer it for you. sorry it took a bit to post, i was trying to tweak stuff (still am so bear with me). i’m surprised i made the smut part pretty tame too.

records: spider devil, real name: unknown — spider–woman from planet “new babylon–18”, a dystopian planet that’s currently being overrun by devils who were once humans. for one to be become a devil is unknown.

featuring, spider–woman! kafka x spider–woman! reader

cw: strap use, cursing, teasing, penetration, petnames, praising, porn with plot, slight brat taming, spanking

NEUVA YORK

EARTH -928

“ are you seriously stopping to smoke in the lobby while miguel is waiting for us? you could of done this outside!” you coughed, lazily waving the thin clouds of smoke away from your face. your fellow spider colleague, who’s tall frame was resting against the pillar, blew out another small puff of smoke from her pink glossy lips. it amazed you that she gladly took the trouble of pulling up her mask just enough to smoke a cigarette—in a lobby full of different spider people with sensitive noses.

on cue, a series of coughs and complaints about the smoke erupts.

“ knock it off lady, this suit isn’t smoke–proof! “

“ smoking causes cancer, y’know! “

“ smoking is not allowed! this is a spidey smoke—free society! . . .is it? “

“ you need to leave! “

“ alright, alright. i’m done, people. “ she sneers, throwing the cigarette butt in a trash nearby. the spider–women casts you a little smile before pulling her mask back down. “ let’s go darling, i’m ready.” she saunters towards the exit of the lobby with you following behind. she stops at the doorway before looking over her shoulder. “ and for the itsy bitsy spider who sounded confused about this being a “ spidey smoke free society ” the lobby goes quiet. “ . . .it’s not. i don’t see a sign that says it is so i’ll do what i want~”

a loud ooh burn echoes through the wide space as you two walked out.

“ i guess you could say, she smoked them! hahaaa,”one of the spiders laughed then stopped awkwardly when they noticed nobody was humoring them. “ ok, i’ll just go swing around and rethink my life now. “

“ i can’t believe you did that. “ you grumbled, walking along one of the steel pillars, careful to not bump into the other spider members passing by. she laughs huskily, lightly nudging you with her elbow. “ oh come on, doll. technically i’m right. also, i’ll admit that the lobby wasn’t an ideal spot to smoke but i was a lil’ bored and wanted to see their reactions. “ you sighed exasperatedly. you know her enough now to find her reason to be typical. she’s a flirty yet calm, mysterious character who enjoys playing around and watching people squirm for her own entertainment.

it reminds you of a certain women you once knew. if it wasn’t for the little extra rasp in her voice and contrasting mannerisms you would of said it was her in disguise. because spider society and multiverse theory actually exists, you’re starting to think the spider–woman beside you was simply an alternate version of her. you cringed at the thought. hopefully not. you want to avoid old memories. you haven’t seen her without her mask and she hasn’t told you her name (more like she’s been avoiding it!). it could be any woman behind that mask.

yeah, she’s innocent until proven guilty.

after several long minutes of walking through open areas and closed spaces, the dark, ominous setting grows familiar. “ aaand, we’re here. “ she mumbles, crossing her arms with amusement as she sees miguel’s large silhouette standing on the small platform above with his back towards you and her, peering at various holograms.

“ you’re late. “ miguel grunts irritably, turning around to face the two of you. “ forgive us, mr. huncho man. i had to smoke. ‘can’t go on a mission without a smoke.” she admits bluntly, turning her head to wink at you and you roll your eyes. he sighs with annoyance and pinches the bridge of his nose. “ ¿por qué elegí a estas personas? creo que podría perderlo. . “ he mumbles under his breath.

“ english please, mr. huncho~ unless you can speak chinese. “

miguel grunts again, waving her off, “ enough, i’m going to talk about the mission now. “ he returns his attention back to his holographic computers and begrudgingly pulls up multiple holographic images of a huge, otherworldly tree that had vast amount of long, lanky branches. “ this phenomenon is called the imaginary tree that sits right outside of the multiverse. it’s something we discovered because of the spot’s wild dimensional rifts. one of our most important equipment was caught in one of the rifts during our recent emergency mission.—“

you him cut off, tapping your left foot, agitated,“ so let me guess, you want us to somehow go to that big ass tree that sits right outside of multiverse to find a singular equipment of ours that happen to be important? do we even have the technology to go outside—“

“ por dios, can i please finish? please? “ he growls, slamming his palm against the keyboard. “ sure, mr. i have anger issues for life.” you huffed, earning a chuckle from your partner.

“ i heard that! ugh, anyways, we learned that the leaves on those branches holds some sort of universe to them. our equipment is in one of these universes and after some time, we were able to trace and pinpoint which one it’s currently in.” miguel types for a few moments before another set of photos appears on the holographic screen. the first two pictures showed a sea of stars, planets, and stars painted on a specific leaf, and then the last two showed a planet that looked similar to earth. “ it’s on this unknown planet. — “

“ alright so what does this missing equipment look like?— “

“ i was getting to that, cállate! “

miguel smoothes his hand over his face before he resumes typing. after a few moments, two more photos of an orange cube that looked hilariously similar to a rubix cube flashes on the screen. “ pfft. . .” you stifled back your laughter as you stared at the orange, shitty looking cube. is that one of our most important equipment that was lost in some unknown universe and planet? a fucking shitty version of a rubix cube? “ why are you laughing? what’s so funny? “ miguel asks grumpily, already awfully annoyed at your disruptive behavior.

“ who made the design of that? “ you burst out laughing, hunching over as you held your stomach. “miguel, you really wanna make us get a damn rubix cube! do we have to solve the puzzle to activate it?–“

“ that’s enough! just get the damn thing! here, take these! “ he throws you two a pair of watches similar to the gizmo. you swiftly caught it and analyzed the exterior design. “ put that on your other wrist. this is for you to specifically travel outside of the multiverse to that universe. it’ll also help you locate the lost equipment and since those devices are only the beta versions, i urge you to finish the mission as quickly as possible. if you’re in trouble, i will personally come as back up. any questions? “

you raise your hand up, miguel sighs,

“ yes, you. what is your question? “

“ it’s not a question but—“

“ no, don’t even finish it, just go. “

you pouted and walked away. the taller woman giggles, sending miguel a lazy wave, “ see you soon, mr.huncho~ “

“ yeah, yeah, adios. remember what i said! “

UNIVERSE—???????

PLANET ??????

TIME: ?????

“ this earth looks beyond better than my earth! ” you said jokingly, gracefully jumping onto one of the highest buildings in a random area. the city’s architecture was beautiful and futuristic. no brick or wooden structures, the exteriors seem to be made up of some sort of metal. digital billboards were everywhere, causing the lights to contrast harshly with the night sky. do they ever get tired of ads constantly in their face everywhere they look?

“ i get you darling, if we weren’t on an important mission, i’d explore as i please. this planet is better than mine just from looks alone. it’s practically a hellhole there. “ she chuckles, her heels clinking against the metal surface as she walks towards the edge. you take off your mask to feel the wind brush through your hair. you breathe in, the air even smells fresh and clean. “ i don’t think you’ve ever told me about your home planet. you said you were from new babylon. .19? “

“ 18. “ she corrects you softly, voice barely under a whisper as she stares at you for a few moments. noticing the change in her voice and the staring from the corner of your eye, you cast her a side glance. thanks to her mask, you can’t tell the expression she has on right now. “ you okay? are you staring at me? is there something on my face?“

she leisurely walks over to you and gently lifts your chin up, making you look up at her. “ darling, did i ever tell that you have such pretty eyes? “ the tangible softness and smile in her voice made your stomach flutter. did she? she did compliment you a handful of times during your last three missions with her but you don’t recall her ever saying that. “ um, yes? no? i don’t think you’ve ever told me that surprisingly. .” you replied shyly, averting your gaze somewhere else, embarrassed by her white slits fixated on you. chuckling, she retracts her hand away and brushes past you. “ now you know. “

“ y-you’re so weird, you know that? and you still have to tell me more about your home planet! “ you yelled, hurriedly slipping your mask back on to follow her. “ i know and yes, i’ll tell you more after we’re done. right now, we have to go find and retrieve our missing cube. take a look at the device he gave us and find the radar. “

you did so, observing the unnecessarily confusing button layout. “ i don’t think that man ever told us how to properly work this thing. “ you muttered, messing around with the buttons until you luckily got to the radar screen. “ got it! “

“ good girl. now, according to the radar, our objective isn’t too far from here which makes our job easier. follow me and try to keep up, will you? “ she teases, gracefully jumping off the building and web swings away. you sighed, copying her actions and followed her not too far behind. as you swing through the bustling streets of the city and occasionally glancing at the billboard ads, there was one particular one that caught your eye. your heart drops at the sight, you nearly lost your momentum.

it was a wanted poster of a beautiful purple—haired woman who wore a low messy ponytail. she had sunglasses resting above her pupil-less eyes. “ black–spider. .” you mumbled bitterly. what bother you the most was not her identical features but her smile. that eerily familiar smile of hers made you rip your attention away from the billboard and continue following your partner ahead of you. so even in this universe, she’s. . .

“ you okay back there, doll? you’re awfully quiet.” her concerned voice comes through the intercom of your gizmo. it took you a moment to respond. “ yeah, i am. there’s so many ads, i-i kind of got a little lightheaded from trying to look at them all! “ you laughed nervously, she merely hums, not really buying your excuse but decides to brush it off.

“ we’re here by the way. it seems to be located in that museum over there. “

there was a large museum at the end of a deserted street near a semi–active highway. “ a museum? why would something like that be in a museum? “ you mused, landing ontop of the roof with the older woman. “ it seems like someone had an interesting eye of treasure. wait. .look, over there. “ she points over towards the entrance where two guards were laid out unconscious.

“ no way, that means. .”

“ mhm, we’re not the only ones looking to take something from here. be on high alert. for now let’s split up, “ she unclamps her weapon strap and pulls out her m-10, “ make sure to stay hidden until you can locate the cube. “ you squinted at her weapon. “ you want me to stay hidden but you’re going to use your gun for a stealth mission—“

she pulls out a silencer from her pouch and winks at you before firmly twisting it on the barrel. “ so what were you saying, darling? “

“ never mind, i’ll go find a vent now. “

you two swiftly departed and after ten minutes of searching, you managed to find a closed vent on the right side of the museum. “ thank god. “ you used one of your clawed fingers to tinker with the screws until you got them all loosened. after cautiously setting the metal screen to the side, you crawl inside with ease. as you moved further down the vent, you hear muffled sounds of voices; one sounded like a man and the other, a younger girl.

“ hey. “ your partner’s voice abruptly comes through the gizmo. “ yeah what is it? so far, i’m hearing two people. one a male and the other, a—“

“ i know i saw. but there’s actually three. the third one,” her voice turns strangely serious, “ which is a woman, departed from those two earlier. that little girl had told her the location of the cube we’re after. i’ll deal with those two to distract them. the cube is somewhere near the right side where you are, it’s in one of the rooms. i’m going to assume you’re still in the vents so do your best to quickly find the right room before she does. use the radar to guide you with diligence. avoid her at all costs, only interact with her when you absolutely need to. why i’m stressing this to you? it’s because i have a hunch that woman has similar abilities like i do. once i take care of those two, i’ll come straight to help you. do you get me? “

“ yes, i do. i’ll do my best. “ you say, nibbling on your bottom lip as anxiety pours into your veins.

“ good. i know everything sounds pretty worrisome right now but i promise it’s going to be okay. be careful, darling. “

the intercom blinks out leaving you alone to your thoughts. you inhale and exhale a few times to recompose yourself before continuing to crawl through the narrow space. “ to think about it now, that was the first time i ever heard her sound so. .serious. “ you muttered, glancing down at your watch to keep track of the radar. despite that woman being the way she is, you noticed how little she seemed to care about herself. she’d be quick to throw herself into line of danger for the hell of it. it was as if she did not have a lick of fear of death. but overtime, as you two completed missions together, she became a little more cautious and suspiciously protective towards you.

“ i really do want to know more about you and i will.” you vowed, stopping at a particular vent and peeked through the screen. “ that’s it! “ you cheered, observing the orange cube that was placed in a protective glass at the middle of the wide, spacey room. you slide the screen to the side and before you can jump down, the sound of a door creeps open and heels clanking against the tile floor bounces off the walls. “ oh shit, she’s. . .here. . .” you trail off in shock as the familiar woman you seen from the wanted poster approaches the display.

“ there it is. “ the magenta–haired woman drawls, her voice strikes a strong sense of deja vu in you. “ so my suspicions were right. .” your heart skip a beat as you watch the woman carefully take the protective glass off the display and sets it down on the floor. she grasps the cube in her gloved hand and analyzes it with a soft hum. “ elio wanted me to get this? how boring. “ with a heavy heart, you slowly crawled out of the vent while still remain attached to the ceiling. “ if i can get it with my web—“

from the shiny reflection of the cube, the woman catches a glimpse of you on the ceiling, and chuckles lowly. “ i can see you up there, little spider~ “ she swiftly pulls out a similar weapon like your partners and shoots at you. thanks to your spider senses, you were able to dodge swiftly and land down on to the floor. “ we can talk about this! there’s no need for the unnecessary violence!” you shouted, running around and dodging as she continues to rain bullets at you.

“ why not? i’m just simply following a script~ and you better be careful little spider, you don’t want to run into another spider’s web. “

“ excuse me, what—nngh! “

just like that, your body is restrained by thin, purple threads. where did they even come from? you tried your best to struggle but the more you did, the more tighter the threads became. “ don’t struggle now, it’ll only get more painful for you. “ she taunts, slowly approaching you, one hand holding the cube while the other was slightly clenched, purple threads emerging from her gloved fingers. how did she do that so fast? wasn’t she just shooting at you just a few moments ago?

“ i swear we can talk about this, um. .um, “

“ kafka, the name’s kafka. “ kafka smiles at you, now in front of your restrained body. “ so that’s your real name(s). . “ you said without thinking, sounding baffled and hurt. kafka raises a brow, her smile not faltering. “ i don’t know what you mean by that but yes it is. anyways, little spider, you wanted this right?“ she gestures towards the cube in her hand.

“ y-yes, kafka. that’s what i came here for. it’s technically ours so i’m basically here to get it back.”

“ ours? i see. sure, you can have it back but on one condition, dear.”

“ and what’s the condition? “

kafka’s smile turns into a smirk. “ i want to see your face. “

looking at her with wide eyes, you spat, “ see my face? what does that even accomplish for you? “ she doesn’t react to your aggression and sighs. “ look, we don’t have much time. do you agree to the condition or not? “

“ f-fine, fine. just do it already. “ where is that woman when you need her?

kafka reaches her hand out and carefully peels the mask off your head. her face twists into shock, red lips forming into a small o. why did she look so shocked to see your face? “ well? “ you raised a brow. her eyes softens and you felt the threads slightly loosen up around your body. “ I knew i recognized that voice from somewhere. elios never told me you’d be the one i’d unmask. this is a surprise for me.”

growing anxious from her calculating gaze, you turned your head to the side, nibbling on your bottom lip. a distance sound of heels hurriedly approaches the room. “ it seems like we’re out of time. so one more thing, darling, “ kafka coos, firmly grabbing your jaw to force you to look back into her eyes. “ you have very pretty eyes—“

“ that’s enough. “ sense of relief rushes through you when you see your partner hold the pointed end of her submachine gun against kafka’s head. kafka calmly puts her hands in the air, letting the threads to dissipate, and allowing your aching limbs to move freely. “ keep your head forward and give me what you have in your hand and give her back her mask. “

“ yeah, yeah, i was just about done with her anyways. here and here, sweetheart. “ kafka hands her the cube from behind her back and you you’re mask. “ by the way, you sound very familiar, i wonder who you are, hm~” even when kafka has a barrel pressed against the back of her head, she still has a relaxed smile on her face.

“ oh please. you know exactly who i am. you should also know what will happen if you disobey the next set of orders i give you. i haven’t killed anything in a while so i’m trigger happy right now and if you even think about attempting your spirit whisper on us, you can say bye to breathing. “ she nearly growls, lazily throwing you the cube after you put your mask back on.

“ how scary, you really are me. fine, i’ll be obedient. oh! I want to ask this, what did you do to the other two in the lobby? did you. .persuade them? “

“ oh, you know me so well. “ the other supposed counterpart says sarcastically, “ now, I want you to walk out that door with your arms up and don’t look back. i wiped your subordinates’ memories so they’re still waiting for you in the lobby. go ahead and walk. don’t look back unless you’re ready to eat a bullet~“

kafka simply chuckles and follows the orders that was given to her. she saunters towards the doors, taking several steps before she stops. “ one last thing, i promise. since you’re me, look out for her, would ya? you know who i’m talking about. “

“ no comment. “

kafka’s shoulders shrugs as a another chuckle escapes her lips and she walks out the door. your partner sighs heavily, putting her m-10 back into her strap. “ now let’s hurry up and return back. i’ll be right behind you. i had enough of me for today. “ you quietly nodded.

NEUVA YORK

EARTH-929

“ so is kafka really your name? “ you asked softly, fiddling around with the cube in your hands, staring off towards the futuristic scenery on a sky–scraper. kafka stands beside you with her arms crossed. “ yes it is, darling. i didn’t tell you because, well, to avoid things getting complicated between us. I guess it doesn’t matter much now though. “

“ it did get complicated for me but why would it be for you?”

kafka sighs, “ just like any other spider–men and spider–women here, we lost someone precious to us which is what they call it our canon event. the person i lost whom i loved was you. “ you peer at her with wide eyes, nearly dropping the cube in your hands. “ me? i know typically a spider loses a gwen, mj, peter, or family member but, me? is that why you act so. .weird around me? “

“ what, weird? you mean me complimenting you and whatnot? darling, you may not be my (name) but it doesn’t change the fact that i find you very beautiful~ you may look similar to her but your personalities and style makes you two completely different people in my eyes. admittedly, i fell in love with you, the you standing right here beside me. the you who i have a second chance to protect. “

you stand there in silence, processing her words. the kafka standing beside you was different from the one in your universe. the one who apparently didn’t trust you enough to tell you her real name, the one who disappeared without a trace. “ it feels so weird to be told this from you, well not you.— “

“ let me guess, an alternative me in your world?“ kafka inquired, you nod your head meekly. “ yes, but she was black spider—well she called herself that but the norm here is black cat apparently. she was very hard to catch but she always knew how to attract me. there was some instances where we fought together for a common goal and through that we’ve got closer, well by closer, i mean. . “ your cheeks turn red from the sudden flashbacks rushing through your head.

kafka laughs at the shy tone of your voice, “ so it was like that, huh? lucky me. “ you rolled your eyes, pulling your mask off due to it getting embarrassingly stuffy. “ a-as i was saying, one thing led to another and something came up. “ you frowned, “ a group called pteruges-v devils, a group of wannabe devils appeared out of no where and after i took care of them with her, she. .completely disappeared without saying a word. “

she hums, “ pterugues-v devils. .even in your universe, they’re such a pain to deal with. “ you perked up, looking at her in confusion. “ you have that group in your universe too? “

kafka snorts, “ a group? they’re a literal race. well, they were once humans who turned into devils. “ okay, that’s interesting. “ how does that work? “ you asked skeptically.

“ humans who dedicate their lives to pleasure and destruction turn into devils. “ she explains simply.

“ and you fight these devils daily? “

“ yes that’s right darling. it gets pretty tedious after a while but i’m just doing what i can for my home world and to pass time. but as for the situation with that alternative me in your universe, i have no doubt in my mind that she left a letter behind for you somewhere. that’s something i would do if i had to leave with the intention of never coming back. “ you hope so. closure is nice for a change.

“ i’ll make sure to look around for a letter when i return back to my universe, kafka. thank you. “ albeit you can’t see her, kafka smiles behind her mask and pats your head, your chest tightens with warmth. abruptly, you gently pushed away her hand, causing the taller woman to emit out a confused hum. “ by the way, i haven’t seen your face yet. i mean, i technically did but i wanna see you. “

after a moment of silence, kafka merely shrugs. “ of course, doll. “ she slowly takes off her mask and almost immediately, light purple tresses flows down her shoulders and stops just above her breasts. she managed to fit all that hair under her mask, what was her secret? her face was fairly the same much like the two kafkas. the only difference between her and them was her hair being a lighter purple and her eyes were purple and pink with black slits as pupils. nonetheless, she was still stunning. “ and you say i’m the beautiful one. “ you snorted. without thinking, you reached out to touch her cheek. chuckling, kafka nuzzles against your palm, her lips stretches into a grin, showing off her fangs.

“ fangs. .that’s. . .actually hot. “ you mumbled, (e/c) eyes subconsciously flickering towards her eyes and parted lips. she gets the message and curls a strong arm around your frame, pulling you closer to her. “ mm, i’m flattered. “ she smirks, leaning down to kiss your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. her lips were slightly chapped but felt perfect against yours—they always did.

“ you think miguel knows we‘re back? “ you asked between kisses. kafka hums, “ mhm, maybe. “ she kisses the side of your mouth and down your jaw, your breath hitches. “ do you want to stop and report back to him, babydoll? “ god, you’re starting to feel things when kafka calls you petnames like that. “ unfortunately yes, and actually after that, do you want to. .have a glass of wine with me at my place? or my universe? “

she pulls herself away, purple eyes twinkling with anticipation. “ i prefer vodka but sure. “ your nose crunched up in disgust, “ ew, vodka? yeah, i did not expect that from you but then again, you are pretty crazy. i guess that runs in the dna. “

kafka rolls her eyes with a smirk, “ runs in the dna? ironic coming from you, darling. but you know what?”

“ what? “

she tilts her head, leans close to your ear, and purrs, “ but you love it. “

you groan, lightly smacking her shoulder before pulling yourself away from her. you turned around to hide the flustered look on your face, missing kafka’s warm smile. “ l-let’s go report back to miguel, i can already hear him cursing at us in spanish with a constipated look on his face. “ you stretch for a bit and slip your mask on. “ then after that, we can relax at my place. make sure to not get lost behind me, yeah? ” just like that, you dived off the sky scraper, free falling. kafka chuckles, watching as you casually twist your body around and give her a cute little wave.

“ i can’t wait for the others to find out more about you for themselves. but for now, i get to have you all to myself~ “ with a snap of her fingers, her mask that she had hand in her hand, disappears and reappears back on her head, masking her. she dives off the edge, intending to catch up to your figure falling down ways below her.

|—|

“ we’re back, mr huncho~ “ kafka announced, walking into his little lair with you side by side. miguel parted his mouth to lecture you two about being late again until you held up the cube for him; his mouth closes and he simply sighs. “ good work, you two. how was the mission? did the device i give you cause any hinderance? “ he asks, taking the cube from your hand with one of his red spiderwebs.

“ not at all! it worked pretty well for us, miguel. thanks for lending it to us! it helped a lot! “

“ you’re welcome~” lyla reveals herself in front of you, booping your nose with a holographic finger. “ lyla, i missed you! where were you when miguel was cursing at me in spanish! “ you pouted.

“ okay, no i did not—“ lyla gasps at him and miguel loudly grunts, teleporting in front of him with her arms crossed. “ while i was away giving a tour guide to one of our newest members, you were giving one of my favorites a hard time? how dare you! “

annoyed, miguel skims a hand over his face and waves her off. “ we’re not doing this right now—you two, give me back the beta devices so you can go. “

“ yeah ladies, so i can annoy deal with him! “

“ oh dios mio, que alguien me mate ahora. “

NEW YORK, UPSTATE MANHATTAN

EARTH—2024

TIME: 11:50 PM

“ not the reaction i was expecting for but did you see his reaction when lyla got in his face? he was so over it! “ you laughed, sliding one of your half open window up so you can enter inside, kafka follows behind. “ mhm, that man is certified sassy. i’m almost jealous. “ she crosses her arms, looking around what she assumes to be your living room. two small, black settee sofa and a small brown wooden coffee table at the middle with record player on it. not bad.

“ i’m going to go get the wine from a small wine cabinet i have in the kitchen and i’ll see if i can find the vodka. i think i have an untouched bottle my friend gifted to me. “ you said, taking off your mask and tossed it on the kitchen counter as you entered into the kitchen. “ wine cabinet? i didn’t know you had it like that, doll. “ kafka joked, sitting down on the sofa and props her leg over the other. she takes off her mask and sets it aside her. gloved fingers runs through her purple hair to push back the hair away from her eyes.

“ well, my friend’s friend, who’s a researcher, gave it to me as a gift for contributing to their research. I promise i’m not rich like you think i am. i was just very lucky and was only able to get a job because of my ex—ugh, it’s hard to explain and it gets kinda complicated. “ you sighed, opening the wine cabinet to grab a bottle of wine and luckily a bottle of vodka after searching for a bit. “ don’t worry, i’m all ears darling, you can explain it to me while we sit and drink. “

you grabbed two glasses and poured the drinks. “ no, no, i’m being serious kafka. i’ll try to summarize it. “ careful not to spill the drinks, you slowly walked back into the living room and handed her her drink and plopped down next to her. “ alright, talk to me. “ she drawls with amusement, bringing the glass of vodka to her lips. “ so, i met my ex back in high school who at the time, was my friend. her name was himeko. “ kafka abruptly coughs, nearly choking on her drink. you throw her a concerned look. “ what? are you okay—“

“ no, no, darling. it just went down the wrong hole, that’s all. “ she clears her throat, sending you a shaky, tight–lipped smile. you merely blinked at her. “ okay? anyways, through her, i met her former girlfriend, topaz and i became long–term friends with them until college. topaz’s step–father, adventerine, was the ceo of a popular bank called bust. he had connections because of his status and one of his connections was to a ambitious research company that he was funding. the same company where topaz’s friend, asta, is a lead researcher at. “

you stopped to take a long sip of your wine, the bitter yet addictive taste of wine flows down your throat. kafka hums, lazily swirling the drink in her palm. “ what is this research company about? “

“ it’s called astral wonders, it’s a multi–layered research company. one section of researchers focuses on aerospace, second section, aeronautics, third, computer science, and the last one, biology. i was a part–time researcher in the biology unit where i met my. .former mentor at. “ kafka raises a brow at the sad tone of your voice. something definitely had happen between you and former mentor.

“ anyways yeah, after topaz and himeko broke up during college, me and himeko got close. we ended up getting together after college and dated for three years. the first year of us dating, i graduated with a biology degree and wanted a job fast. during that time, me and topaz wasn’t really on good terms so himeko managed to convince her to land me a spot at the research company and the rest was history. .with a few twist and turns. but, that’s a story for another time. “

“ can’t wait to hear that one, doll. i’m sure you’ve been through a lot while maintaining your spidey identity. i can see in your eyes that have strong sense of who you are. “ kafka smiles, taking one last sip of her vodka and places it on the coffee table. “ what’s with you and my eyes? “ you inquired, taking a sip of the wine. you were starting to feel tipsy. kafka lets out a low chuckle, she reaches her hand out to touch your thigh, causing you to freeze up.

“ come closer and i’ll tell you, i promise i won’t bite~” kafka purrs in a raspy, seductive voice. your body grows hot when her gaze looks you up and down with roguish intent. she beckons you closer with a finger and you lean your body towards her without hesitation. “ i’d be mad if you didn’t,“ you mumbled, taking it upon yourself to close the distance until your lips are brushing against hers. “ now tell me why you like my eyes. “

you swear her pupils dilated when you said that. “ they say that the eyes are a window to a person’s soul, “ she started, snaking her hand under your knee and propped your leg over her lap. you place a hand on her shoulder, ready to pounce on her lap. “ and to put it simply, those (color) eyes of yours hold so much transparency to them that i can almost see what you’re feeling, yet when i try to pry deeper, i simply see a reflection of myself. your soul is rightfully guarded and that’s what i like. “

“ how poetic, kafka. “ you whispered, holding back a soft groan as her lips trail down your jaw. kafka giggles, kissing at your heated skin. “ on my lap, darling. “ she says, tapping your knee. you quickly shifted on her lap, straddling her. her dark purple, gloved hands hooks themselves on your hips. your lips fully presses against hers and thread your fingers in her purple hair. you were quick to deepen the kiss, tilting your head. kafka’s tongue skims along your bottom lip, you open your mouth just enough for her to slip inside. the strong taste of vodka fills your tastebuds as her tongue swirls with yours, eliciting a moan from your throat. you’re starting to feel even more intoxicated.

“ ‘want you. “ you breathed, after breaking the kiss too soon for kafka’s liking. her hands explores up your sides then back down until she stops at your thighs and squeezes them through your spandex tights. “ oh, i know, babydoll. “ she stands up, easily lifting you up with her and instinctively, you wrap your legs around her waist. “ where’s your bedroom? or do you want to continue here? ‘doesn’t matter to me~ “

“ my bedroom is just around the corner through the main open doorway. “ you whispered, burying your face into the crook of her neck. she follows your directions and a minute later, your back hits the sweet surface of your mattress. “ doesn’t it feel illegal that we’re gonna have sex and we’re not even from the same universe? “ you asked between kisses, kafka draws out a long hum before simply saying,

“ there’s no rule saying we can’t so i don’t see any wrong in having some fun. “ she helps you undress out of your suit and you try to do the same for her but she stops you. you give her a puzzled look. “ no need, darling. this suit is tech. “

“ what? “ you watch in awe as her suit loses form, leaving glitchy led screens in its wake similar to miguel’s suit. “ how did you get your hands on that?”

“ it’s a secret~ “ she replies smugly, enjoying the appalled expression on your flushed face as your eyes scanned her now naked body. you clicked your tongue, you really need to stop being attracted to crazy women. her hand dips down your stomach and plays with your clit. a soft moan erupts from your throat. “ fuck. .”

kafka buries her face into the crook of your neck and drags her lips downward, sharp fangs gently grazing your skin. a shiver runs down your spine. “ usually i’ll be back home after a mission and relax with a glass of vodka but i’m pleased i get the chance of spending my night fucking you, doll. “ she pulls away to hold intimate eye contact with you, her lustful gaze made your heart wanna explode.

“ sh-shut up and get the strap before you drive me crazy. there’s a black box just under the bed where i have it inside.“

“ anything for you, sweets. “ kafka purrs, removing herself off of you and gets on her knees to search under the bed. she finds the box with ease and pulls it out with the help of her spider web. she examines the box and takes off the lid. “ mm, interesting. “ the plastic cock was thick and about six inches, and the design was black with purple webs engraved on it, nearly identical to her own suit. kafka already knew where this was from and she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of something—something she hasn’t felt for a long time; jealousy. “ at least she has taste. “ kafka scoffs, standing upright to put on the harness.

“ did she ever use this on you? “ she asks strangely, brows slightly furrowed with a little frown on her face. “ no, she never got to use it and neither did i. “ kafka’s face visibly lights up, her lips stretches into a dark grin, inducing an odd sense of excitement in you. “ good.“ she positions herself between your legs as they hanged off the foot of the bed. “ i hope she doesn’t mind me seizing the opportunity to fuck you with her—well, technically my cock, hm? “ the fat plastic tip broadly strokes your folds, causing you to groan.

kafka holds your hips in place, watching you squirm with a sly expression on her face as she teases your pussy in broad, languid strokes. “ mmph, stop teasing me, kafka, “ you moaned, attempting to lift your hips off the mattress for more friction, she holds you back down. “ no can do, babydoll. “ she croons, running the mushroom tip down to your entrance and slowly slips inside then immediately back out. you grit your teeth, agitated.

“ oh my fucking god, i said—ouch! “ you gasp loudly as she smacks your ass. the stinger lingers while she props one of your legs on her shoulder. “ watch that mouth of yours. be nice and i’ll consider giving you want you want. “ kafka rasps, and goes back to her previous actions, shallowly thrusting into your cunt with no intentions of going deeper. waves of pleasure washes over you agonizingly slow, making you increasingly frustrated. you bite the inside of your cheek, holding back a snarky remark.

“ please kafka, i need it—you, please. m’sorry for cursing at you, i didn’t mean it. “ you whimpered, cutely jutting your bottom lip. kafka peers down at you, observing your face for any signs of deceit. her eyes softens ever so slightly when she sees the raw desperation in your eyes. “ atta girl. it wasn’t so hard now was it? “ her hips thrusts forward, pushing the rest of her inches inside of your drooling hole.

a throaty moan escapes your lips as her thick length fills you up. kafka delves down until she’s face to face with you, pushing your bent leg against your shoulder, rocking her hips back and forth. “ be as loud as you want, i wanna hear your pretty voice, baby. “ she whispers softly, peppering your face with kisses. you held onto her for dear life as her cock splits you open, deliciously hitting against your sweet spots.

“ fuck, it feels s’good! “ you whined, closing your eyes in pleasure as kafka speeds up her pace. she squishes your cheeks with her fingers, making you adorably pout. kafka tsks, “ open those pretty eyes, let me see em’ again.” you tentatively open yours eyes and looked straight at her. “ good girl~ “ she kisses your pouty lips, continuing to fuck her length into your sopping pussy.

tears fills your hazy (e/c) eyes. “ is my baby crying? “ she asks teasingly, slamming her hips into your ass and then grinds. “ can’t help it. .” you mutter back, tears running down your squished cheeks. kafka was quick to lick them up, relishing the salty taste. “ don’t worry, you look even more adorable when you cry. “ she coos, releasing your face to give your reddened ass cheek a little smack. this time, you moaned, gummy walls fluttering around her.

“ ‘think i might cum. .! “ you babbled, holding on to the older woman’s body for dear life, digging your nails into her back. “ you think or you know, darling? “ she groans, fucking you nice and slow, each drag of her cock has you writhing in pleasure and you’re on the verge of seeing stars.

“ i know, i know—!“ you let out a strangled moaned, legs trembling as you cummed on her strap. kafka brings you into a sloppy kiss, sucking and nibbling on your swollen bottom lip, careful to not draw blood. she slowly rocks into you, whispering sweet promises against your lips as you rode your high. “ you did so well for me, darling. “ kafka gently slides your leg off her shoulder, allowing it to dangle off the bed while you lay there exhausted.

“ but was slapping my ass like i’m some little kid necessary? “ you grumbled, sending her a weak glare. kafka laughs, caressing your tear–stricken cheek with her thumb. “ yep, mama has to put her baby in check when she’s gets out of line—“

“ please don’t you ever refer to yourself as mama and never say that again. “

|—|

NEW YORK, UPSTATE MANHATTAN

TIME: 7:57 AM

(BONUS)

you groan, drowsy eyes slowly flutters open as the warmth of the morning sun hits your bare skin. sitting up, you stretched your stiff arms. “ damn, i’m thirsty. “ you yawned, mouth dry. suddenly, an arm loosely curls around your waist, making you flinch. “ if you want a glass of water darling, i can get up and get it for you. “ kafka drawls, drowsiness evident in her voice. she peeks up at you through her unruly purple locks, casting you a lazy smile.

“ o-oh, you’re still here, kafka. “ you said, surprised. she hums, reaching out to grasp your hand, brings it up to her lips, and kisses your knuckles. “ why would i not be? i wouldn’t leave just like that unless something or someone requires my time. “ you giggled, already knowing who she’s directing her shade at.

“ nonetheless, thank you, kafka. for everything, really. you done so much for me and i can’t thank you enough for it. i wouldn’t have gotten so far in the spider society without you. “ you smile brightly at her. a light blush stains her creamy cheeks. has she also ever told you that you look like an angel when you smile?

“ aw, isn’t that adorable. but you’re welcome sweetheart. like i said, anything for you. and if nothing comes up later, i can look for the letter with you the other me could of possibly left behind. “

“ i would like that, my spidey in crime. “

#spideyverse au #kafka x reader #kafka smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail women x reader #hsr kafka

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kakashixhatakesxwhore · 10 months ago

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The Cardigan

Pairing: Hokage!Kakashi x f!Reader

Summary: You put a chunk of time into your husband's birthday present this year, but... your surprise gets revealed early.

W/c: 1.4k

Warnings: Swearing, sexual element toward the end, reader's lowkey a housewife

A/n: My first piece in a little bit, so lmk how y'all feel about it - also, this is the lead-up to the actual Kakashi-birthday post I wanna do. This is the cardigan I was using as a base.

Masterlist💿

Things seemed so goddamn bright every time you looked away from the hook and yarn in your hands, and your fingers burned from the friction, while they cramped harshly.

The time in your day that you would usually reserve for reading, eating, showering, or doing itsy-bitsy chores, was now spend on the crocheted cardigan. Of course, you still kept-up with larger chores, otherwise; and you just ate, read and showered with your husband, when he finally came home after his long work days. It wasn't that he minded, but you knew he was getting suspicious around what you spent the day doing.

It was all for a good cause; your husband's birthday.

For three weeks, you had worked on this present - working like there was a gun to your head, in the day; stashing it like a precious diamond, in the night - and it was finally becoming perfect.

There was no room for mistakes in this cardigan - you were not going to let your husband accept something poorly made. Everything had to be perfect; from your stitch tension, to the pocket placement, to the measurements. Sure, he might just wear it around the house, but you put every ounce of effort you had into it.

As you put the final pin through the soft, navy blue cotton, piercing through the massive piece of cardboard you had found in the back corner of a candy shop, you hoped Kakashi would honestly like the cardigan.

Would he put it on immediately, or just let it be forgotten as he hugged you? Would he appreciate the cardigan for how nice it looked, or because you had spent so much time on it? Would he-

"Honey, I'm home!"

Fuck.

Fuck, no, no - what time was it? Like, half past three? Since when does Kakashi get to leave his office before five?

"Sweetheart?" Kakashi's velvet voice was a little softer now, but still loud enough for you to hear from the bathroom as you threw your piece of cardboard into the bathtub, coming to a kneeling position abruptly.

You could heard your husband taking off his sandals, and you mulled over your options.

Quickly, you put the damp towel, that you had just used on the cardigan, over it. You rose to your feet and pulled the shower curtain closed, listening to nothing, but knowing Kakashi was coming.

You couldn't hide from him, and you could never hear him coming.

"There you are, honey bunny," he hummed in satisfaction, standing in the doorway of the bathroom with no fanfare. "I thought you were taking another nap."

"No," you replied gently, coming over to your masked husband as his arms reached out to hold you.

"So, what are you doing in the bathroom, then?" He chuckled, gripping your hip with his left hand while his right wrapped around the dip of your waist.

Turning him around inconspicuously, you smiled up at him and popped up on your toes. You placed a kiss to the fabric covering his nose, then to his cheek, using his broad shoulders as your stabilizer. With a slight shake of your head, you fibbed, "Cleaning."

"Now, I know your lying," Kakashi said with an amused lilt, coming to a halt in the doorway.

Schooling your features into a look of confusion instead of excited-anxiety, you huffed, "I beg your pardon?"

"You're only short with me when you're mad, or you're lying," he explained, pulling you closer to his body. "And you're clearly not mad."

"I'm not being short with you," you defended futilely, trying a last-ditch effort to get your husband to ignore the bathtub, though he was backing up, and backing up... "Darling, I'm just tired, from all the cleaning, swear. C'mon - let's get a pot of tea going, and you can tell me all about your day, yeah?"

"Yeah, after I see the sparkle of the tub faucet," Kakashi insisted, getting all the way to the tub despite your efforts to pull him away.

His hand raised to the shower curtain and your hand came to his wrist. Kakashi looked into your eyes, and you looked into his, pleading, "Don't. Please, don't."

A look of consideration goes over Kakashi's face, but you both knew that the jig was up.

He was never known to change his mind after it's already made.

He pulled back the shower curtain and you tried moving to cover his view. It didn't work, as his hold on your waist was still present and vice-like. You both stared at the black towel, poking up in odd places, while cardboard edges stuck out from under.

"What..." Kakashi looked at you as he leaned down, hand extended to reveal your little secret. You gave him a weak smile, just nodding toward the covered present, giving him a silent permission.

In a swish of black as he stood, the blue cardigan was revealed, and a short gasp fell from Kakashi's lips.

The majority of the cardigan was navy blue, with white hemming and sleeve cuffs. The pockets were white granny squares with blue hearts in the center. It was made of drunken granny stitches, though they weren't properly blocked yet, so it looked a little wonky. Loose yarn ends hung out of the cardigan, yet to be sewn into the stitches.

It was perfect, but it wasn't done yet.

But, as you shyly looked at your husband, you were shocked to find his eyes with a watery gleam.

"Darling," you grinned, turning closer into his hold, which he tightened instantly, almost unconsciously. Kakashi's eyes were pasted to the cardigan, sitting in the tub, and your nerves started to build. "Do you... like it?"

"Do I like it?" He laughed with a certain rasp.

With a sniff, Kakashi pulled his mask down with his free hand and started blinking like a crazy person. A grin from either ear was etched onto his face, his lips parting and closing gently, over and over. His head stuttered as he tore his eyes away from your handiwork, sniffing again like he was an emotional aunt at a wedding. He nodded, first slowly, then with a rapidity, turning his head to look at you with a broad smile on his beautiful lips.

"You made that, for me?" Kakashi asked, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded bashfully and Kakashi's smile deepened impossibly. His freehand came to the side of your face, cupping it gently as his thumb ran across your cheekbone. Glossy charcoal eyes searched yours, seemingly going straight to your soul, and you couldn't help but blush just a tad.

An uncontrollable laugh bubbled from his throat and Kakashi brought you close, hugging you flush to his warm body as he murmured, "I love you; I love you, so much."

"It's not done yet," you mumbled into his chest. "It'll be perfect on your birthday, so you'll have to wait 'til then."

"How can I hold out for three whole days, when I know I'm under the same roof as this bit of personalized artistry?" He chortled, squeezing you once before you brought you away. "You've been working on this cardigan, all this time?"

You shrugged a little, replying, "For the last few weeks, yeah."

"Oh, I've been so worried," Kakashi sighed happily, his head ducking away for a brief moment.

"Worried about what?" You asked with a small chuckle.

He shook his head, looking back into your eyes with a smile, "Worried about you; you've been so cagey. I figured you were hiding something, but..."

"But, what?"

"But, I was scared of the answer," he exhaled. Kakashi drew a sharp breath, shaking his head again and gesturing toward the cardigan. "But, now I've just ruined the surprise you've been working so hard on."

"Oh, please - you haven't ruined anything," you giggled, lacing your fingers behind your husband's neck. "I'm just glad you like it."

Kakashi looked deeply into your eyes and grinned, "I like it so much. You're incredibly talented, sweetheart, and I consider myself beyond lucky to be the one you choose to spend your talent on." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. "I don't deserve you, my sweet darling angel from the stars." Ghosting his lips over yours, Kakashi murmured again, "I love you, so fucking much."

Smiling like a fool, you pressed your lips to your husband's, feeling his smile grow into the kiss as well. You couldn't handle all of the praise, not when a beehive seemed to have broken open in your stomach.

Collapsing onto the bathroom floor, you and Kakashi spent close to an hour on the tile - indulging in the pool of love that swelled within both of your hearts; expressly deriving pleasure from the other's bliss - not even a meter from his birthday present that you had worked callouses into your hands to make.

You were excited for his actual birthday, if this was merely an amuse-bouche.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi fanfic #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #kakashi naruto #hokage kakashi #naruto fanfiction

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mvskedxrtist · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, can you do an angel dust x Huge Dino male reader where the reader truly loves Andrew and the reader takes good care of him after they do the deed. You can add the sex if you want, if you could that would be great! Have a nice day 😊!!

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Mention of Abuse (it's Angel), Established Relationship, Praise, Small Mention of Creampie, Size Difference, Cockwarming, All in all: Fluff

Nᴏᴛᴇ: Another request means another star in my sky of smut. Thank you all for sending in requests! I have 3 in store (including this one) so watch out for these! After those three requests are down, requests will be open but I'm gonna ask that you do some other fandoms other than Hazbin, please. This is also probably on the shorter side because I couldn't think of what else to do, so sorry but you guys will enjoy the next two

Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @certifiedcrybabyyy

AMAB!Huge!Dino!Reader x Angel Dust - The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Angel Dust was cuddling Fat Nuggets in his arms, wanting to forget everything that Valentino had made him do that entire day before he heard a specific knock on the door. "Y/N? You can come in, tall, buff, and sweet." He said gently as you walked in and smiled, sitting on his bed gently so it didn't break.

"Hello my Spidey... I wanted to check on you after Husk brought you back... Seems you both had a wild night and you had an even wilder day... Do you.. Wanna stay in my arms and cuddle? We don't have to do much." You gave him a small smile and opened your arms wide for Angel to look over and snuggle into your arms, his head resting on your stomach.

You smiled and kissed his cheeks all over, cuddling him in the bed as you watched Fat Nuggets go sleep on his bed. "I'm glad Fat Nuggets is asleep now... Because now I can really comfort you~" You teased Angel Dust and chuckled, pulling your cock out before sliding into him slowly and pressing kisses all over his face.

"Dear, you know I'm already used to this.. You don't have to go so slow." "I know. But I just wanna hold my itsy bitsy spider in my arms while maybe filling your ass once...or twice." Both of you chuckled before you rubbed his back gently and looked him in the eyes.

"Angel, I love you so much... I know you try so hard to get away and I really want you to.. I also want to beat that damn moth's face into the ground.. But I can't. And neither can you. So please remember, I'm always here for you, even if you think I don't Anthony..." Angel Dust looked away a bit hurt from the mention of Valentino but started tearing up when you comforted him, pushing his face into your chest.

"So cute.. You're absolutely precious to me. And fuck your ass feels so nice... But I'm not gonna do much tonight. Not unless my itsy bitsy spider wants more?~" "...Go right ahead, baby arms~"

#smut #my writing #top reader #mvsked.writing #male reader #dom reader #top male reader #dom male reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust

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anomaly-hivemind · 8 months ago

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Caught ☆ Spider! Choso x Reader | Kinktober Day 29

Summary: The itsy-bitsy spider went up your waterspout. Down came the rain and turned the spider on. Up came the climax, and tightened up all the spout, and the itsy-bitsy spider takes you once again.

Word Count: 692

Tags: Rope Bondage, One Shot, Fingerfucking, Restraints, Non-Consensual Bondage, Bondage, Spiders, Human/Monster Romance

This is what you get for being in places you have no business being in. Strung up in a very exposed manner in front of an overly large arachnid that also was seemingly a hot man. You don’t even remember the exact thing that got you into this mess, and there's no point in thinking about it when you're about to be eaten. You pull on the webs, and they aren't budging.

Welp, the only regret you have is not writing down a will, so the people you didn’t like in your close enough bloodline could get nothing. You're not even sure that's how wills work, you've never died before and this would be your first. You were so in your head that you didn't notice when the webs started to shake and your captor was crawling to you.

You try to crane your neck to see, but it's too hard to move it without feeling like you might break it. This situation was not it no matter how hot the creature now standing in front of you was.

Hot he was, if not for the creepy spider bits. The human half of him had messy pigtails that kept his dark hair from being in the way. He has 5 eyes that seem to take up the space of his forehead. As he inches closer you can see the seams of his face alluding to a hingable mouth. Then the most obvious part was the two sets of mandibles he has, the first coming out of the human mouth and being smaller than the others being much larger and coming from his face seams. His eyes had heavy purple bags under them and he handed a long mark over his nose.

For the part, you were more unsettled about his actual other half. The part that's all spider that is. It was basically if you saw a spider in Australia and made the biggest one there ten times bigger. It causes an awkward chill down your spine. He, at least you're assuming by human half that it is in fact he was just staring down at you. All eyes are on you, making you feel small.

He crawled closer to you and your anxiety shot through the roof. He spit acid from his mouth dissolving your pants. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you tensed up in your webbed prison. Even if you were free it still wouldn’t help at all. The acid burned, not like how you expected acid to burn, to make your flesh bubble and melt off. Not that it was more like the exact moment when you’re sitting out under the sun and regret not putting on sunscreen.

He pulled off the melted remains of your pants and discarded them elsewhere. As he circled around the outside of your hole.

“Ah! Why are you doing this,” he pushed two of his slender fingers into your hole and you tense up a little. He watched your face contort a little, which he seemed to enjoy.

You try to squirm and all that does is wiggle the webs holding you down a little but it helps none when it comes to pushing our pulling away from the arachne. He mutters something under his breath that couldn’t hear all that well.

“What was that?” You huff out as he starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of your entrance.

“Because I want to,” he scissors his fingers out inside of you and stretches you out.

You were holding back moans and pants as he was fingering you. It feels good and you hate to admit but he was hitting all the right spots. It made you feel like you could climax on this alone even if you would prefer some other stimulation elsewhere.

He thrust his thrust into You at a steady pace and your insides try to pull him in deeper and squeeze around his digits. His other hand continues to pump in and out of your warm, channel, making sure that you know exactly who is in control here.

After all, you were caught in his web.

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vampiredaisiesss · 5 months ago

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❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part one

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger reader

tags & warnings - mentions of domestic violence and daddy issues, age gap, (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of logan being referred to as an 'old man' and him calling the reader a 'kid', fluff, itsy bitsy angst, time has softened logan a bit.

word count - 1.7k

part two

★ ★ ★ ★

The whiskey burns, but not enough. Never enough to dull the edges of memories that cut deeper than any blade could.

Logan sits at the kitchen counter of the mansion, darkness pressing in from all sides. His demons always seem to find him here, in these quiet hours when the world narrows down to silence.

Even the adamantium in his bones feels heavier tonight.

He catches your scent before he hears you—that vanilla body lotion you always use. Your bare feet pad against the hardwood floors, and he takes a long gulp of his Jack Daniels when he feels your eyes land on him.

Your eyes are full of worry, as they often are for him. You can’t help it. You both know he drinks too much, smokes too much, gets angry too fast and doesn’t sleep enough. You might be a lot younger than him, or seen half the world he has, but that doesn’t mean you are incapable of distinguishing his self-indulgent tendencies from self-destructive ones.

"You're brooding again," you murmur, voice soft in deference to the midnight hour. The gentle concern in your tone makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

"Ain't brooding, bub. Just thinking." The lie tastes bitter, worse than the whiskey.

"Same difference with you," There's no judgment in your voice as you pad closer. You slip onto the stool beside him, close enough that he can feel the heat of you against his arm. "Share your demons with me, old man."

Logan's grip tightens on the bottle, knuckles white. "They ain't your burden to bear, kid."

"Seems like they should neither be yours to carry alone anymore," Your hand finds his forearm, fingers gently coaxing his own to uncoil from the bottle. "They’re tearing you apart, Lo."

“I’ll heal,” his voice turns assertive.

For the first time since you walked in, Logan looks at you. There’s no real heat behind his hazel eyes, but the intensity of his gaze makes your mouth go dry.

Logan's the kind of handsome that gets better with age, with grey starting to streak through his dark hair at the sides. You've spent more nights than you'd care to admit thinking about running your fingers through that hair, wondering if it's as soft as it looks.

“There are some scars that can’t heal on their own.” Your voice catches, vision blurring as memories surface. His expression softens, recognizing your demons as they dance in front of your eyes.

You grew up in a small house on the outskirts of town, where the screams couldn't carry far enough for neighbors to hear. Your father worked construction, coming home with anger burning through his veins, fueled by whatever poison he'd picked up at the local store. The bruises started small—a grip too tight around your wrist, fingers digging into your shoulder. By thirteen, you'd mastered the art of layering clothes in summer without breaking a sweat.

Your mother watched it all happen through a veil of willful blindness. She'd whisper "I love you" while dabbing antiseptic on split lips, promising "things will get better" as she covered the marks with a drugstore concealer. But she never left, trapped in her own web of shame and financial dependence.

The day Charles Xavier found you was the day your powers manifested.

Your father had been in one of his rages, when something inside you finally snapped. The resulting telekinetic burst had sent him flying across the room. You ran, terrified of what you'd done, of what he'd do in retaliation. That's when the professor's black car pulled up, offering sanctuary within the walls of his school.

Xavier's became more than just an escape—it became home. A home with an unlikely collection of mutants who’d soon turn into family. As far as you were concerned, Charles Xavier was your father and Storm had taken on a motherly inclination when it came to you.

And then there was Logan… gruff, protective Logan who understood you without you having to explain. You both sat in this very kitchen the night you finally told him everything.

You'd watched his knuckles whiten, saw the rage build in the set of his jaw—not at you. Never at you. You remember thinking that your father wouldn't survive the night if Logan decided to pay him a visit. But instead of violence, Logan had offered something far more precious than revenge.

Understanding.

And that was the first time you fell a little for him.

Logan lets out a breath that shakes more than he'd like to admit. "Been thinking about Stryker. The lab." His voice roughens as he admits. "Sometimes it all just... comes back. Can’t close my eyes, for the life of me."

You don't flinch from the roughness in his voice—you know too well how memories can become monsters in the night. Instead, your fingers slide down to cover his hand, "Would you like to spend the night with me?"

"That's how rumors start, you know." The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his hand turns beneath yours, rough fingers catching against your skin. He shouldn't enjoy your touch this much, shouldn't let himself notice how perfectly your small hand fits in his giant one.

"You worried about your reputation, Howlett?" You lean closer, unable to help yourself. Everyone else might see your relationship as purely paternal, but the thoughts that race through your mind when he looks at you are anything but daughterly.

"Hell nah, never been." His voice drops lower, rougher, allowing himself this small indulgence. "You sure you wanna be associated with a sleazy old bastard like me?"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." The words come out playful, but your mind floods with memories.

Ever since you joined the team, Logan's been your shadow, protecting you during every mission. You think of training sessions in the gym, how good his hands feel when they’re adjusting your stance. You think of the day he carried you through the mansion when your leg broke after a mission gone sideways. You'd been mortified at first, but when you felt him cradle you against his chest, you'd buried your face in his neck.

When it comes to Logan, it's more than just physical attraction. It’s the way he’ll jump in any fire to save you. It's the way he'll sense your fear and comfort you whenever you have nightmares. It’s the way he can make you laugh just by raising that eyebrow in exactly the right way at exactly the right moment.

You felt safe with him. You wanted him to know he could feel the same with you too.

Logan watches you lose yourself in thought, fighting the urge to brush back the strand of hair that's fallen across your face.

He's spent too long trying to convince himself that his feelings are purely protective, that the way his chest tightens when you smile at him is just paternal instinct. But there's nothing fatherly about the way his body responds when you're close, about how often he finds himself thinking about the sound of your laugh.

"And call it daddy issues or whatever," you add with deliberate casualness, though your heart is hammering against your ribs, "but I like older men. So you're in luck, old man."

Logan knows he should say no. Should keep his darkness away from your light. But when you stand and offer your hand, he takes it, letting you lead him through the silent halls like a ship following a lighthouse home.

He has been in your room before, though never like this. Your room is almost the same as his. Almost, with bits and pieces of you sprinkled throughout. A huge antique bookshelf, courtesy of Charles, is one of them, covering an entire section of the four-walled space.

You watch Logan from your perch on the bed, the way his hands are curled into loose fists at his sides. "It's okay," you let him know softly. "Let me help."

He draws a breath at your words. His hand falls from the doorframe, and the door closes behind him with a soft click, separating the two of you from the rest of the sleeping world.

The mattress dips beneath his weight when he finally sits. You resist the urge to immediately touch him, letting him arrange himself comfortably, until he's lying down with his head in your lap.

His breathing is too measured, too even to be natural. You watch his hands, curled still into loose fists against his chest, and wait.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the rigid line of his spine begins to soften. He drapes his left arm over your legs, and your fingers find their way into his hair. And fuck, if it isn’t as soft as you imagined.

"Is this okay?" you ask softly, working your fingernails through his scalp; The first stroke sends a shiver down his spine.

He responds with a barely perceptible nod.

"You're safe here," you murmur, tracing patterns against his scalp. "No labs, no Stryker. No pain. Just you and me."

His eyes flutter close, though he fights it at first but all protests die in his throat. Your fingers continue their gentle journey through his hair, across his scalp, and you feel him surrendering inch by inch to the comfort he's denied himself for so long.

"Those memories? They're just ghosts now. They can haunt you, but they cannot touch you. They can't hurt you anymore, because you survived. You got out, Logan. You're here. You're loved. You're safe."

A soft whimper escapes him. Slowly, so slowly he almost doesn't notice, the tension begins to leak from his muscles. The metal in his bones feels lighter now, smoothing the worried crease between his brows.

"That's it," you whisper, and he feels the smile in your voice. "I've got you, Wolfie. Rest now."

Wolfie, he smiles sleepily. The nickname is the last thing he registers before sleep claims him whole.

★ ★ ★ ★

a/n: Do we want a part two???

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #x men #wolverine #wolverine x reader #the wolverine #wolverine x you #james logan howlett #x men movies #x men fanfiction #wolverine imagine #fluff #xmen days of future past #xmen dofp #marvel #romance #older man younger woman

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ssspideysense · 1 year ago

Text

₊˚ෆ bad habits

summary: peter tends to act on impulse — that’s what got him here in the first place.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: fluff, pining, peter’s a hopeless romantic

wc: 2.7k

What makes something a bad habit?

People usually use the phrase when they mean too much of something— too much coffee in the morning, too many cigarettes a day, too much to drink on the weekends. Overindulgence. Lack of self control.

Peter thought about this as he waited, the skin-tight material of his suit doing absolutely nothing to block the chilling rain running down his back. Past the city lights glimmering against her window pane, the apartment inside was dimly lit. He could make out the splash of colors against the hallway from the living room TV. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep on the couch again— she had a bad habit of staying up too late, biting off more than she could chew most nights and paying for it a few hours later. He wondered briefly, and hoped a bit selfishly, that he maybe had something to do with that.

He knocked again. Louder, in a little rhythm— bum ba bum, bum ba bum.

No more than once a week. That’s how it started out, however many months ago, when he crawled through that window for the first time. Swinging by more than one night a week would be way too much. He had things to do, really, and so did she. It wasn’t realistic to expect her to wait around, twiddling her pretty little thumbs, keeping her schedule free for a chance to let him into her bedroom window at 12:17 am.

12:18 am.

12:19 am.

Peter shivered. The cold had started to seep into his skin, but the chill that ran up and down his spine wasn’t from the sudden downpour.

Even the glimpse of her figure, a dark silhouette he could pick out in any city crowd, was enough to set off that tingle in the base of his skull, even for just a moment. He watched her scurry over to the window, an apologetic look tugging on her face.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you,” she said, and her voice was music slipping over the smack of raindrops against the iron fire escape, “oh my God, get in here, will you?”

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Sometimes he was grateful for the mask and the few freedoms it allowed him—

“Wait here.”

—she couldn’t see the way his entire face lit up as he happily maneuvered through the window, or the way his eyes followed her as she wandered over to her linen closet to grab a towel for him.

Peter stood in a puddle on her hardwood. Obedient, embarrassingly so.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked. In the relative dark of her quiet bedroom, she handed him the towel, gazing up at him with the kind of eyes that make poets pick up pens.

“I should probably be saying yes, since it’s midnight, but I’m going to be disappointing and say no,” she chuckled under her breath and took a small step back.

Peter wrapped the towel around his shoulders like a kid getting out of the pool. It smelled like her laundry detergent, a scent he never thought he’d catch himself daydreaming about when he was miles away and objectively much busier with something much more pressing.

He had a bad habit of letting his mind wander, especially when it wanted to grip onto memories of her.

“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” he replied.

She sent him a pointed look with a raised brow. “And so are you, when you wake up sick. What the hell are you doing? Does the song Itsy Bitsy Spider not ring a bell?”

She fussed over him. He liked it when she fussed over him.

“Yeah, y’know, the part where he climbs up the spout again is my favorite, actually.”

There was a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie thrown at him before he could even pretend to argue against them.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, gliding away, leaving him to drip quietly in her bedroom as he watched her back disappear down the hall.

“Decaf?” he called after her.

“Do you really want decaf?” she called right back.

She’d slipped from view, little clinks and clunks from the kitchen catching his ears. Peter shrugged the towel from his shoulders and started to peel his suit off. It’d become a second skin, literally and figuratively, clinging to every inch of him, making him shudder as the warmth of her apartment replaced the cold wrap of wet spandex.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, bug— trying to be more health conscious this year,” Peter replied with a grin. In reality, he knew she’d be up all night and woefully exhausted the next day if she got her hands on some regular coffee, so he’d gladly take one for the team with decaf.

He stood at the foot of her bed in his boxers, looking down at the change of clothes she insisted upon him.

It was strange, the way Peter was utterly exposed like this, not even behind a closed door for a breath of privacy, but it didn’t bother him. The suit and the mask sat in a heap next to her radiator and it didn’t matter. He pulled the comfortable cotton up to his hips and slipped the hoodie over his head.

Soft, warm, foreign yet familiar all at once.

He heard her footsteps, heard them pause at the mouth of the hallway. The gut-drop feeling of meeting her gaze unobstructed, bare-faced and messy haired, wasn’t the same as it was the first time. Or the second, or third— she knew his face just as well as he knew hers at this point. Anxiety faded over time, replaced with a new, giddy sort of rush that started in his chest and spread over his body in waves.

She made him feel like a teenager again, and she didn’t even have to do anything. It was a little pathetic, maybe, how much he looked forward to these kinds of nights, but he’d ruminate about that later in the quiet of his bed.

Peter padded his way down the hall to her, moving through the space like he belonged there. He took in her small smile as she leaned back against the kitchen island. The smell of coffee hit him once the machine started to gurgle softly on the counter.

“Are you still cold? I can crank up the heat,” she offered as he drew closer. Her gaze fell on his mouth then— more specifically, the cut on his bottom lip. A little hiss escaped her as she reached up and brushed her thumb beside it.

He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression, watching her brows furrow down as she examined his face.

“No, it’s fine. I’m already walking around in your clothes, waiting on a cup of your coffee. I feel like a Tinder date that’s vastly overstayed his welcome, and I just got here,” Peter quipped, letting her turn his head by his jaw and study him some more. Her soft fingers caught his stubble but she didn’t seem to mind.

She arched a brow at him and eventually pulled her hand back. “I’ve never had a Tinder date crawl into my eighth-story window before.”

“I’m not really an expert on romance, but something tells me that’s a good thing.”

Her hum was low as she turned and gathered two mugs from the cupboard above her. “Tinder isn’t exactly the place to look for romance anyway, Spidey,” she sat them down with a clink.

Spidey.

He’d chosen to start with his face last summer. A bold choice, truly, but it felt like the safer option at the time. There was eight million people in New York— a couple thousand guys were bound to look just like him.

A face without a name was the tiniest breadcrumb he could drop to satiate that need, that desire to feel seen by her in some capacity without completely laying himself out there.

It was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. But she played along well, stumbling in the dark with him and letting him lead, however awkward and shaky.

Peter leaned against the counter and watched her pour two cups. “It’s not? I’m not really in the dating scene. Do people still meet out in the wild these days?”

And she gave him that little chuckle under her breath he liked. “You sound old,” she mused as she reached into her fridge. The pale light bathed her in a sweet, domestic sort of glow that one could only feel in sweatpants in the kitchen after midnight.

“Hey— I’m only twenty-six,” he countered, dipping his head despite the little grin growing on his face.

He watched her pause, just for a moment.

Another breadcrumb. A thread.

But she didn’t draw too much attention to it. Peter pictured her tucking it away for future reference.

“Well, to answer your question, yes. I guess people do still meet out in the wild,” she poured the creamer and scooped the sugar and reminded him that she knew so much about him without really knowing him, not yet, and he both loved and hated that, “but I’m probably not the best person to ask about all that. I think if a man randomly approached me in a bookstore or something, I’d probably assume he was some kind of weirdo.”

Peter hummed, his brow furrowed but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. His fingers were cold when he gently accepted the drink from her.

“Alright, noted. What about guys that fall out of the sky and crash into your fire escape?”

He peered at her over the top of the mug as he took the longest, hottest drink of his life— anything to avoid the reality of what he just said for a few moments longer.

His throat burned, but it was fine.

The air felt heavier then, thick like the air outside as her gaze flicked over his face.

“That depends. Is he kind of awkward in a weirdly charismatic way?”

And Peter swallowed down the lava for a chance at a deeper breath without choking, “I mean— in this completely hypothetical and improbable scenario, yeah, I’d— I’d say so,” he replied.

The corners of her mouth curled up softly. “And did he come back a week later, trying to apologize with four different types of candy at ten o’clock at night?”

He cleared his throat to try and hide the chuckle that almost slipped out. “He didn’t know what kind you liked,” Peter said, that heat trickling up to his face for a different reason.

She blew on her coffee before sipping it, because she clearly had more sense than he did, and shrugged.

“Helping you out with a broken nose and a concussion makes for a more interesting story to look back on,” she replied softly.

This line they were toeing was a tightrope, strung high and taught and delicate.

Sometimes Peter wanted to take the leap. Just dive right onto the other side, tugging her along with him.

The clock on the stove read 12:37.

12:38.

“Do you think about it? The night we met?”

And she sat her mug down on the counter beside her. The sweater she wore was loose and comfortable on her frame as she crossed her arms. “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Do you?” she countered, tilting her head just a bit to the side as she gazed up at him.

Peter leaned back. His mug was empty, the roof of his mouth was a bit sore, but he swallowed regardless. “I do, sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

The rain outside picked up. It smacked against her windows with the whistle of wind just underneath it all.

“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep. I’m usually thinking about the last time I saw you, though. Much clearer picture there,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and looked off to the side, though her soft, slight smile cut the air of annoyance she tried to hold on to.

“Stop,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “that’s not fair.” He had a feeling he knew what she meant— and he had to agree, watching her avoid his gaze.

Peter reached a hand out to pull her arms out of their closed off, crossed position. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she was soft, pliable, letting him grasp her wrists and guide her forward gently into his torso.

He wrapped around her, his nose in her hair, committing the scent of her shampoo to memory.

“I know,” he mumbled back.

She was quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest in that borrowed hoodie she thought he looked criminally good in. After a few moments of his fingers lightly tracing shapes between her shoulder blades, she sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair, either, Spidey.” And she was right again.

He had a bad habit of trying to fix everything.

“Peter,” he said, his voice low against her roots, “it’s Peter.”

The wind shook the windows. She was nearly laying on him with how he held her, his long frame leaned back, arms circled around her shoulders. His breath came in calculated waves, but she could feel the rhythm changing the longer she stayed silent, along with his heartbeat under her ear.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

“Peter,” she tried it out, and it felt like hearing her voice for the first time.

His fingers splayed over her back and his palm smoothed up her spine. “Yes?” he mumbled back.

She had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, at least around him.

“I think I might have a thing for guys who fall out of the sky and crash into my fire escape.”

Overindulgence, lack of self control— whatever it was, it didn’t matter, really. Peter smiled against her scalp. A low rumble of a chuckle vibrated through his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head once, twice, and squeezed her against him.

She let out a little grunt in response, feeling too much like a squeaky toy to not laugh. “Pe—Peter—super strength, remember?”

“Right, yeah— my bad, bug,” he loosened his hold just enough for her to look up at him, her palms now flat on his chest between them. “But, y’know, you have some pretty weird tastes. I should’ve known when you picked the gummy bears over the Reese’s.”

12:52. He had one foot dangling on the other side of that line he spent far too long thinking about.

And she laughed that laugh and scrunched her nose up the way she did when she found something amusing, yet dumb. She did that a lot when he talked. He took it as a personal victory every time.

“You really don’t have any room to call me weird. You run around the city in spandex every night,” she mused, her lips curled into a smile.

“It makes me aerodynamic.”

“Yeah, you were real aerodynamic when you smacked your head on the rail—“

Peter was never really a planner. It made sense in the moment, to lean in and kiss her, his hands shifting to either side of her jaw. And it made sense the way she hummed into his mouth, either from surprise or the fact that she was very much in the middle of a sentence. But it was alright, because they stood there in the middle of her dark kitchen at 12:55 am, and her lips were soft, much softer than his.

He decided he could excuse every one of his bad habits, maybe write them off as quirks instead, because as he kissed her, he realized that every single one had led him right there; drinking decaf coffee in borrowed sweatpants, listening to the rain and her deepened breathing.

She pulled away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing against each other, “I wasn’t done—“

“Neither was I,” his tone was nothing but a playful tease, and he kissed her again, “how rude of you to interrupt me like that,” and again, “honestly, sometimes I can’t believe the lack of manners in this city.”

Her laugh was grounding when his head was busy floating. She smacked his chest lightly. “Lack of manners? Let’s start with you. You crawl in through my window soaking wet, drink my coffee in my clothes that I totally don’t keep around for you just in case, and kiss me without permission,” she gave him the grocery list and he nodded to each point over-attentively, humming along.

“Right, yeah— you forgot the part where I interrupted you.”

“And you interrupted m—“

Peter kissed her again.

#forgive me i’m rusty #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #p.parker #tasm #tasm!peter parker x reader

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

Text

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Summary: Your archer was a force to be reckoned with, cunning and fearless. Well, almost fearless.

Warnings: Brief appearance of a spider

A/N: I needed some fluff and giggles after the last couple of days. Thank you, @lazyneonrabbitt for helping me shape this!

*gif is not mine

The stew you were making was causing your mouth to water. Carol gave you the recipe and you decided to make it since there was venison available from the deer Daryl had brought back the day before. Rick and Michonne would have a meal when they returned. Carl had taken Judith out to enjoy the nice weather. It was just you and Daryl.

The archer was downstairs, most likely adjusting the strings on his crossbow or making bolts. You hadn’t seen him for a little while but as soon as the aroma of dinner made its way down, you were certain he’d come floating up the stairs like a nineties cartoon character.

You had just added a touch more rosemary and nearly dropped the entire container in when you heard:

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

The only time you ever heard Daryl yell like that was when there was danger nearby. How anything would get into the basement without passing you was a mystery. You quickly moved the pot off the burner and grabbed a kitchen knife, bolting down the stairs.

“Daryl?!” You burst into the your shared room, looking around frantically until you spotted him, flattened against the wall in the far corner. What in the flying monkey fuck? “Daryl?” You lowered the knife and studied him for a moment. His expression was nearly blank but there was a fear in his eyes that made you question if he was maybe half asleep and still in the clutches of a nightmare.

“There.” He rasped and pointed across the room. You saw nothing.

“There’s nothing there, Daryl.” Now, you were really starting to worry.

“Are ya fuckin’ shittin’ me? S’right there!” He pointed again in a more frantic gesture.

You decided maybe you should humor him just to give him some peace of mind, bring him out of whatever terror in which he was trapped. You made your way over to the other side of the bed, turning in circles, looking up and down.

“There’s nothing he—” That’s when you saw it. The small, dark blotch on the wall. There is absolutely no way. “Daryl. Oh my god, Daryl.”

“What?!” He barked, still tense and unmoving.

“Daryl Dixon, are you afraid of spiders?” Your face was absolutely twitching with the need to laugh. Your boyfriend— the rugged walker-killing outdoorsman ‘mess with me and I’ll put a bolt in your eye’ archer —suffered from arachnophobia. “How?!”

“Shuddup an’ get ridda it!” He snapped, watching you warily as you laid down the knife, grabbed an empty water glass, and tore out a page from your journal. You carefully coaxed the little guy onto the paper with the edge of the glass and trapped it inside while Daryl mumbled something about sending it back to hell.

“I’ll just—take this—outside.” You stuttered as a burst of laughter threatened to tear its way from your throat.

“It ain’t funny!” Daryl hissed, maneuvering further away as you walked by, sliding his back against the wall until his hip bumped the nightstand.

“Nope.” You let a giggle escape and heard him growl behind you. “Not one bit funny.” When you crossed the threshold and stepped onto the stairs you couldn’t hold it in any longer, doubling over to absolutely crack up and very nearly losing your grip on the glass.

“I swear to christ, Y/N—” You heard from behind you, coming from still very much inside the room and far away from the arachnid.

You would never give anyone ammunition to tease him. He got enough of that for being a soft teddy bear around you. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

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edytae · 2 years ago

Text

"heat" (smut/mature) ft. Kim Taehyung x reader

(do not interact if you are underage)

pairing: Taehyung x (female) reader

summary: Taehyung gladly lets you use him during your "heat".

rating: 18+

genre/warnings: smut, established relationship, !werewolfTaehyung, !humanreader, reader goes crazy horny, just a brain dump bc Taehyung is so f*cking hot!

word count: 3.5K

“Tae, Tae, Tae…” You called out his name as you tried to move yourself. “Please, let me go!” Your sweet begs would never change his mind.

“Baby, did you lose your mind?” He asked breathily as you tried to peel his hands off.

“I just want your dick, please. Why don’t you-” You hiccupped and cried. Your desperate need for him came over you so needily that Taehyung needed to stop you.

“You will hurt yourself, baby.” He lovingly explained while patting your face to calm your cry. He gave two gentle kisses to your soiled cheeks.

“Oh my sweet human…” Taehyung caressed your body as you shook under him. Taehyung was a wolf by birth. He was a promising wolf in his tribe and loved by everyone including town people even though they didn’t know Taehyung’s tribe’s secrets.

For you, being with Taehyung was the most natural thing. He was your childhood love that transformed into something bigger, but as magical as always. Now, you knew him very well; he was a good man that could turn into a big puppy.

Taehyung’s supernatural nature had a very traditional family aspect built into it. His tribe had become your second family with endless fun, dirty dishes and no leftovers. Taehyung’s tribe was his source of information about his nature. However, as human mates were rare, their nature wasn’t fully unknown. So, when your first heat came up, Taehyung was shocked at what to do.

Well, he obviously knew what to do, but it didn’t expect you to have longer and more desperate heats as if your human body didn’t know how to process the superhuman urges.

You were doing anything that a wolf would do. You were rutting against his limbs, sniffing him so deeply and licking all over his skin while burning with passion and leaking all over yourself. It was debilitating to the point where you said it was worse than your period.

When he brought this up to Yoongi, his older brother emotionlessly commented, “Stop complaining. It’s not something you can’t keep up with.” Yoongi had a human mate but he wasn’t helping since he was very secretive with his partner. Despite everything, Taehyung had never seen someone have this much strong heat.

It also didn’t help that you were so small for him. Tiny, itsy bitsy compared to him, way softer. You could only take only half of him when you tried your best and kept asking for more while Taehyung watched your juicy cunt stretch around him. Oh, then you smelled literally intoxicating. You alerted him with your naughty pheromones and turned him into a sex machine every single month.

You pleaded again, this time hands holding his collar. You tried to shake Taehyung with every word. “I want it to hurt. I- I just want you in me, okay? Fuck me, finger me- Fucking fist me! I just need you in me, Taehyung, please….”

It was difficult for him as it was difficult for you. “You dirty princess.” Taehyung ever so slightly pulled your hair from the root, making your eyes roll back with pleasure. You followed his pull and climbed to his lap. Your lips immediately found his neck, licking it like a little kitten, rather than a scary wolf.

Taehyung fisted his hand on his lap, “You want me to fist you?” He laughed a bit too dangerously. “You can’t even take three of my fingers without crying, you dirty girl.”

His dirty talk was sweet nothings to your ears. As soon as your lips hit his smooth skin you were gone. It was very convenient that he was always burning hot so you lost your shirts in seconds.

“You don’t have a bra on?” He hissed when your bare skin hit him through his skirt. “No? Why would I need extra layers?” You mumbled while your lips sucked his neck a big red bruise.

Taehyung’s voice grumbled in his throat as you begged him further. “Take me to our bed, Tae…” Your voice was so weak and desperate. Taehyung followed your request.

When his back hit the bed, you were back to ravaging him crazy. “Take it off, for fucks sake!” You complained when his cardigan tangled everywhere.

Taehyung airily laughed, “Don’t say bad words!” He spanked you with his large hand. You cried out fake tears. “What do you want, baby?” He asked as he watched you grind against his crotch mindlessly.

“I- i… I feel so horny for you, baby.” You cried again, fingers digging at his soft skin.

“Ride me until you are satisfied, okay?” He cooed your face as you got him out of his boxers and hovered over him.

You were trying to get him ready as if he needed to. He was fucking ready for you before he knocked on the front door. His nose picked up on your smell, and his wolf brain realised his mate needed to be impregnated.

“Tae…” You sighed as your soaked pussy touched his flaming hot tip. He immediately oozed some precum for you. You rubbed his head against your sensitive lips and whined, “Ahh, so good.” You let his dick go as it could stand by itself. You held Taehyung’s shoulders with both your hands and nestled his cock between your pussy lips. You were too eager but not stretched enough, you glided against his cock, and let his head hit your clit as you experienced pure bliss.

Thankfully, Taehyung’s wolf nature came with strong stamina even though he felt himself spending after a night with you.

“Good job…” He whispered as your cries subdued with the contact. His body drugged you like a sweet painkiller. “All you need is my dick, right?” He helped you glide over his dick.

You hummed, “Yes… It is all...” You slurred. His pretty cockhead was bumping right against your clit as you leaked all over him. Taehyung was glad that your heartbeat calmed down a little bit. Your body was decently relaxed on top of him, but you still shivered from pleasure.

“My sweet girl…” Taehyung caressed your face and got your hair out of your face. You basically purred into his skin. “You feel amazing, Taetae…”

Your eyes were closed, your hands on Taehyung’s shoulders to get a good grip to glide yourself on him. You were focused on the pleasure.

A smile covered your face, you let out a giggle. “Taetae…” You moaned his nickname out. A few giggles left your mouth.

“What is my darling?” Taehyung asked attentively as your body gently twitched in his hold. Taehyung felt your juices slowly seep out and cover his dick. You made him sticky with your cunt. Your giggles now made more sense.

You slowly let yourself lay on Taehyung’s chest, “I came Taetae.” You still had the most alluring giggle on your lips.

“You just cum, baby?” He was intrigued. When you nodded like a jello in his arms, he decided to tease you. “But it has only been three minutes, baby?”

Again, you gave him a sweet giggle, picked yourself up again and continued to pleasure yourself without caring about Taehyung’s poor dick getting drenched.

Taehyung then realised what he was in… You continued to ride him for multiple orgasms.

“Taehyung, oh, baby!” Taehyung wanted to pray for his God as you moaned out loud for the umpteenth time. You were holding his large hands as he supported you as you jumped on his dick like a crazy woman. “Y-you’r- s-so good! Oh- my!” You folded over his body once again as your cunt clenched over him again. You let his hands go as you lay over him, breathing frantically against his neck.

“Did you cum again, baby?” He asked hoarsely. His throat was dry from watching your goddess body ride him like you were obliged to. You rubbed your face to his neck, a sob left your mouth. “Yes, I did. I can’t stop, Taetae…” You confessed ever shy. Your pussy wasn’t shy at all. She was glamorously covering him in your sweet slick, squeezing him for his worth and cumming endlessly.

“How many times did you cum, baby?” His hands caressed your lower back. He was tempted to spank your ass but the way you shake in his arms stopped him. “S-so many times…” You murmured and you picked yourself up again. Despite your messy hair and make-up and overstimulated state, you sat back up, intertwined hands and started riding him again. You were slow this time, but your thighs were more separated now, giving you a deeper angle to take him. Most of your thrusts were irregular as you got comfortable with the depth. Nevertheless, Taehyung was holding his orgasm vigorously.

“Ah, f-fuck!” You squeezed Taehyung’s hand, your face crumbled in a cry. “You feel s-so big!” Your hips halted with their jumping motion and you started to swirl your hips around. A high-pitched whine followed your actions. “Y-you are so long, fuck!”

Taehyung was deep inside you. He could feel how you moved around to feel every inch of him. “Ggg-” Taehyung only could give you a low growl. “Getting a good feel of me, heh?” He asked. If you weren’t holding his hands this tightly, he would have given your ass a strong spank, or to your delicious boobs.

“Yes, baby…” You arched back, Taehyung was sure that he hit the correct place. When you repeated your cute little swirl over and over again, he was sure that you were cumming again.

“Tae…” Taehyung felt his cock getting flooded by your cum once again. The worst thing was he desperately both needed to cum and didn’t want to cum.

“Baby… Are you–” He was enamoured by your pleasure. Despite losing your mind a few orgasms ago, you still had the audacity to play with him.

“Are you mad at me, Taetae?” You pouted with his dick bulging your stomach. Your one hand caressed his face. Taehyung could see your act from a mile away so he bucked his hips up to you.

“Ahh, so biggg…” Your face crumbled in a second with a hazy burn. “You are so deep, baby.” You clawed at his shoulders but didn’t pull him out.

“Mhmm, I am going again…” You gulped, your hips going at their full speed. As your high reached again, you let yourself fall into Taehyung’s chest and cried a full orgasm out in his arms. The sight of your face fully comforted in pleasure was too arousing for Taehyung that he flooded your soppy cunt with his seed. As Taehyung came, his hips moved slightly and yes, feeling him cum you gave him another small orgasm.

“Bab-y, how on earth?” He asked you with a strained voice. It took everything in him not to continue slamming you stupidly on his cock.

“I-Iam sorry, it-’s just that- you know your hea-t makes me like this…” You dared to apologise while subtly continuing to ride his softened cock.

“Don’t ever apologise!” Taehyung warned you. What the fuck you were apologising for? For riding him like a good girl?

You shrugged with a pout. “You should have never let me fuck you. Now, I don’t want to stopp-” Your hands find their places on Taehyung’s shoulders. You could easily hold onto the bed and fuck yourself but no, you had to touch him.

“I fucking love it when you are like this…” Taehyung hissed through overstimulation. You were the one who fucking came back-to-back and yet he was the little overstimulated bitch.

“You do?” You hummed as your hips sped up.

“Fuck, yes!” Taehyung gave you a well-deserved spank on your ass.

“Ah, don’t hit me! I am s-so sensitive…” You whined; your pout was still on.

Taehyung rubbed the spot, feeling a little bit guilty. “Mhmm, you are my sensitive little baby, aren’t you?” You nodded; head thrown back.

“You can’t make your cunt stop cumming… Oh, sweet baby.” Taehyung cooed your face in his palm. You nuzzled against his hand. So, you wanted to ride him like a starved slut and still act like a pampered princess. Okay, he could do that.

“Do you like it this slow, baby?” He asked gently, his hand dropping to your waist. “Yes, I-I love it…”

“How does it feel?” He breathlessly asked.

“Like… like I am on top of the world.” You mumbled, speaking true from your mind. Taehyung felt his heart stutter. “Is that so? Do you like using my dick for your pleasure? Come on, baby, use me nice and good” You cried listening to him. He was yours to use, yes. He was all yours. “I-I am h-having f-fun with yo-r dick.” You nodded while your hips worked their magic to make him hit your G spot.

Taehyung chuckled, “Yes, you have so much fun, baby. I can tell by how many times you came.” You hissed when he tried to fasten your hips. You needed your own pace and so Taehyung opted for simply caressing your waist with his warm large hands when you whined.

“Your hands feel so warm…so big…” You took a big breath and continued. “A-and your body… s-so big and s-safe for me… I love y-you so muc-h.” While you confessed, tears streamed down your face like an overstimulated baby girl you are. Your hands caressed his honey skin, feeling his silky-smooth body.

“Y/N…” Taehyung breathed out your name slowly and dragged every single syllable. He was getting close to his orgasm again but he didn’t want to end your fun by cumming too soon.

“Taehyung…” You mimicked him, voice entrenched in pleasure.

“Baby, I will cum, very soon.” He whispered. He felt like you needed a warning.

“Me too!” You cried. “You will make me cum again! That’s s-so…”

Taehyung couldn’t bear your slow impaired pace so he started pounding you from where he lay. “Baby…” Your figure immediately shook and you couldn’t hold yourself up on Taehyung’s lap. When you laid over Taehyung, he wrapped his arms around you. He had more control over the position despite having your entire body over him.

His ragged, low grunts filled your ear. “Yo-r moans…” Your whimpers made him grunt even more. “I-i could c-cum j-st listenin- you, Taetae… You-r ss-sexy…”

Taehyung squeezed your ass, “Do it then baby.” He talked behind his gritted teeth. “You did come a handful of times, yeah? Why don’t you cum for me again? Let me see how your eyes roll back.” He was mean. He fucking knew what his words did to you. He knew his voice was the reason why you whined like a little slut. “Taetae…” You whined his nickname out with a big sigh and shook in his arms.

“Pretty girl, cum for me like that.” Taehyung followed your orgasm with his and exploded inside you. You ride him through his orgasm despite the overstimulation. He felt so creamy and snuggly when he came. He always gifted you so many good sensations so you retaliated back. “Thank you, baby.” You whispered in his ear while your hips worked subtly. You kissed his forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for-” You hiccuped while Taehyung kept cumming endlessly as you rode him out. “You had so much cum for me…” Your voice was so quiet as if you were afraid that someone would hear you. Taehyung answered only with a grunt and lay with afterglow. You laid back on him fully and cuddle him with his softened dick still inside you.

“Please don’t move…” You whimpered when he tried to move. “I want to stay like this for the rest of the night.” And you did.

Taehyung was well accustomed to having you sleep on top of him so he fell into a deep slumber after his brain got washed up with sex chemicals. You were drugging his mind so sweetly that he was addicted to you.

As if you could hear his thoughts, you gently twitched in his arms, clearly waking up. He didn’t open his eyes. “Mhmm…” You moaned. Right then your walls clenched on his soft dick. It felt amazing like his dick getting a hug from your juicy walls. Then, you picked yourself up from his chest. You have drooled on his chest. “Ah!” You winced in pain right as you pulled Taehyung out of you. Taehyung always wondered what you were up to when he was sleeping.

When you pulled Taehyung’s cock out, cum that was plugged into you dripped out to his thighs. It was both an erotic and messy sight. Your womanhood didn’t feel good, your entire midriff was sore. You rolled off Taehyung’s large frame and your back hit the bed after hours of extreme sporty activity that was riding Taehyung.

You looked over his handsome face. All of his muscles were relaxed. He wasn’t frowning, clenching his teeth or anything. He was sleeping like your cute bear. You couldn’t help your heart swell for him. Your lips wanted to peck that gorgeous face. Taehyung and you did dive into a little bit of somnophilia, but nothing fully. You would never say no to waking up Taehyung's tongue in between your legs. So, you were comfortable giving him an innocent kiss on his forehead. You brushed his fluffy hair back and kissed his forehead again. You murmured something but Taehyung couldn’t catch it. When Taehyung thought you were getting up, he felt another kiss. This time on his shoulder. Another kiss was granted to him in seconds. They were so gentle, almost like a feather tickling his skin. You snuggled to his side while giving him some small kisses. It was more for you to get up and have some motivation to clean yourself.

When you got up, Taehyung sneakily peeked. You were rushing to the bathroom with your hand cupping your sex so that nothing would leak. It was so fucking hot. Taehyung considered getting up and joining you, but he decided to stay in. It was one of the best decisions he made tonight because when you joined back to him on the bed a few minutes later, you showered him with gentle kisses. It was like you couldn’t get enough of him. You always said this would be the last but pressed another kiss only seconds later.

“Sleep well, my Taetae bear.” This time Taehyung heard your voice. Then, you snuggled him again and threw your one leg over him. Taehyung fell asleep after that. The last thing he remembered was how you played with his fingers. You lay next to Taehyung, your head resting on his shoulder as you listened to his gentle snoring. The rhythmic sound vibrated through the room, creating a soothing ambience that lulled you into a state of tranquillity.

As you gazed at Taehyung's peaceful face, you couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for the man lying beside you. His snoring was like a sweet lullaby to your ears, a reminder of his presence and the comfort he brings to your life.

You watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, vibrating with the gentle snores that escaped his lips. It was a symphony of sound that intertwined with your love for him. In this simple act of slumber, Taehyung radiated an aura of vulnerability and warmth that captivated you.

Unable to resist, your hand reached out to gently trace the contours of his face, your fingers gliding across his cheek with tender adoration. You marvelled at the way his snores continued uninterrupted.

As your lips pressed softly against his temple, you felt a surge of tenderness swell within you. It was a pure and profound love that filled your heart, a love that was intensified by the gentle snores that escaped his lips. At this moment, you are overwhelmed by the depth of your emotions, a deep-seated yearning to protect and cherish him. And with that realization, you close your eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you, as you drift into a blissful sleep, cradled by the gentle serenade of Taehyung's snoring.

Morning came fast and early. You snuggled to his side; Taehyung didn’t want to get up despite being awake for hours. It was his turn to watch you sleep. He spent the entire morning pressed against you, titties he adored only a reach away from his hand. If you didn’t look so comfortable wrapped in his arms, he would selfishly pull himself back and drown in your titties. Until your sleeping figure decided it was over, Taehyung cuddled you back. He wanted his every day to be like this.

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