#the sanctity of patience

[always-just-red]

I NEED some angst+comfort with Zayne PLEASE. It could be anything, the reader being run over in front of him, him being stressed about work and being mean to the reader... Literally anything

This was my first request, so thank you so much! I started this last night with a cup of tea and an "I'm sure I can manage some angst for Zayne, why not?" sort of attitude, and it culminated with me evil laughing to myself at 3am. Enjoy I guess? 😭

Reserved

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: You've been looking forward to this dinner with Zayne for a week, but it seems he has other priorities.

Genre: angst, SO MUCH angst (but sshhhh... we save it with some comfort... 👀)

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, fluff, uses of y/n, reader is feeling neglected, Zayne gets a tiny bit mean

| Word count: 1.2k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Zayne… c’mon. Let’s go.”

You feel like a child, whining for what feels like the hundredth time in the last half hour, but you’ve little else left to do. You’re perched on Zayne’s desk, having long ago lost respect for the sanctity of his workspace, and you pout as you stare down at the phone in your palm. The screen is lit up by a reminder you’d set a week ago: Reservation. The Cerulean. 8 o’clock.

It’s 8:25, and you’ve snoozed it five times already— each time more pointedly than the last.

“Just a minute,” Zayne mumbles.

“You said that an hour ago!”

The man hums in acknowledgment, but he doesn’t look up from his computer. His face is bathed in the ghoulish light of the screen, his glasses shining as he dips his head— just a fraction— to glance at the paperwork spread before him. You give him his minute: let second after second tick by, though you mark each one with an idle tap on the desk’s cold surface.

A murmur: “Stop that, please.” His patience is thinning too.

You’re feeling petty, because you’ve been listening to the patter of his keyboard forever and it’s driving you insane. You purse your lips and tap louder. One second. Tap. Two seconds. Tap. Three. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Stop it.” Zayne’s hand catches yours, his grip soft, but his face stern.

And he still won’t look at you.

He releases your hand, and his dutiful fingers are back to their post, pattering away. With a huff, you come away from his desk, stalking past him to the window, where you fold your arms and study the barren street below. The view is obscured by the dark and the drops of rain that carve hazy trails down the glass. You can just about make out a couple, emerging from the hospital’s entrance. No uniforms. A patient and their other half, and they’re leaning on each-other— no— pushing each-other, competing for the cover of an umbrella that’s much too small. They’re laughing, you think.

Your chest aches.

“Zayne,” you press.

His chair rolls back, wheels harsh on the floor, and he’s standing, logging out of his computer with a final, few clacks. “I’m done,” he snaps, but his tone says otherwise. He tugs his coat from the back of his chair. “We can go.”

…

You sit on the edge of the wet pavement, rain seeping from your hair and soaking the fabric of your clothes. You should be cold, but you’re not. You’re nothing. Your eyes are cast downwards and all you see is grey, though it’s illuminated by an orange glow.

Behind you, light bleeds through the windows of a busy restaurant. Zayne is still in there, playing diplomat. Playing doctor: always trying to fix things.

Your phone buzzes, and you slip it from its home in your coat pocket. There’s a message: having fun? Then another: ur welcome, miss bodyguard.

Rafayel. He knows a guy who knows the guy who owns this place, so you’d called in a favour. You and Zayne had been drowning in work for a week: him, overwhelmed by new patients at the hospital, and you, out hunting the wanderers that had put them there. Linkon is getting worse. Everything is getting worse, and you just wanted one, single night for yourself.

Well, not just yourself.

The monotonous drum of the rain breaks to the creak of an opening door, but you don’t react. “Y/N?” Zayne sounds far away. “Where did you— Y/N!?”

Footsteps echo on the pavement behind you, splitting puddles, and the orange light is gone. You’re trapped by a shadow that’s talking, speaking your name, but you pretend you can’t hear it. Let him say it a hundred times. A thousand; you can wait.

“Just a minute,” you lilt, your voice dripping spite.

You’re going to sit here for an hour.

“Y/N…” The doctor is oh so patient. “Please get up. You’ll catch a cold if you—”

“Good!” you spit, rounding on him. “Then why don’t I check myself into the hospital? Maybe then you’ll actually think about me once in a while!”

Zayne is towering over you: a small, wet, pathetic little thing, but you still make him draw back. His virescent eyes are wide, his lips parted ever so slightly. He almost always knows what to say, but this is an exception.

After a long moment, he moves around you. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit at your side.

“Do you have any idea,” you start, staring out across the slick road, “how selfish you make me feel? How much I hate myself when I… when I ask you to…”

The confession catches in your throat. It hurts, but you force it out anyway:

“What you do is so important, Zayne. You’re saving lives. You’re giving people back to their families, their loved ones, and you’re amazing for that. I think you’re amazing for that. But I miss you. It feels like I have to share you with the rest of the world, and I know I have no right to ask it, but sometimes? Sometimes I just… want you to be mine.”

You’re looking down, now. Hugging your knees— burying your face, so he won’t see you cry. There’s rain and salt in your mouth, and you wish he would say something. Anything. 

You have to wait a few seconds, but then you feel it: something heavy being draped over your shoulders. His coat. Then his arm is around you, drawing you close, closer, until you’re nestled against his chest.

“You have every right to ask,” he soothes, his tone so warm when it’s compensating for the rest of him. “I am yours, Y/N. I will always be yours.”

“But your work—”

“Can wait,” he finishes for you. “I know I forget that sometimes. And I’m sorry. But you?”

He lifts your chin, gazing down at you with something you can only describe as adoration.

“There is nothing in this world more important to me than you.”

Your heart flutters at the words and the feathery touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away a tear. It’s futile in a downpour, but it still makes you smile. Rain is spattering on your forehead, some dripping from his now-soaked hair, and you laugh as he tries to dry your face with his sleeve.

“You’re important to me, too,” you manage between chuckles, “and I’m sorry, too.” Your cheeks are flushed, even in the cold. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“No.” A statement: not up for debate. Zayne untangles your limbs from his as he helps you stand. “We have a reservation.”

“We had a reservation. They gave away our table, Zayne.”

“Did they?”

There’s a hint of smugness. “Wait… what did you—”

He nods at the restaurant, and you follow his glistening gaze to where a waiter is holding the door— a menu clutched above his head, shielding him from the rain. He’s looking back at you. Waiting.

“Rafayel isn’t the only one with friends in high places,” Zayne smiles, leaning down to speak into your ear, and it makes you shiver. “The head chef is a friend of mine. I saved his brother’s life, you know.”

[beneathashadytree]

DEVOUT WORSHIPPER - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : suggestive at most (but not explicit), reader has lipstick applied but still gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Just for context, Sylus and the reader are living together but often go periods without seeing each other due to work🙏🏽 Also, let me know what you think of Sylus being portrayed as Italian/speaking Italian here! Hope you guys enjoy this after the gorgeous new update🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“You’re exquisite.”

Sylus’ soft mumble was not left unheard. In fact, it was impossible to not notice anything about him when he was this close; so close that they could see every blemish on his fair skin, and count every delicate eyelash that fluttered lazily with every slow, seductive blink of his eyes.

They’d never get enough of his eyes, would they?

Eyes the colors of the richest blood rubies; that bled passion and want so true it warmed them to their very core. Maybe they’d never admit that their flushed cheeks weren’t just because of his enamored compliments, but also as a natural reaction to looking into those eyes they could never resist.

“That so?” they hummed, voice smaller than they thought it would come out. Somehow, there was a sanctity to this moment that meant that only hushed whispers were to be spoken between them, even if they were all alone in the safety of their own home.

Sylus huffed out a laugh that was achingly tender, all parts adoration and worship—and yet there was that same arrogance in his eyes that spoke volumes of his sheer confidence in his words. No one believed what he said more than he did. “Mm. You’ll have to take my word, tesoro.”

How sweet it was to hear from him, the endearment lilting and the syllables curling almost intimately on his tongue. Even sweeter it was, when his finger reached out to smudge at the edges of blood-red lips like his own eyes, his touch almost reverent.

“Silver tongue,” they breathed out, their gaze dropping to his sinful lips, their corners raised in an affectionate half-smile he’d only ever bare to them. Just them. It was their sacred secret to stow away between their ribs. “You’re just trying to lure me into staying at home with you.”

“I can’t say that it would be a bad idea.” The faux innocence on his face as his eyes flickered to their parted lips was almost laughable. “The place would miss you, after all.”

No matter how much they tried to play coy, Sylus could always outfox them in that game of wits—but his desires were always spelled out on his face, and this time they threatened to consume them whole.

Arching their brow at him, they reached out to clasp their hand around his wrist, tugging it away from their lips and instead taking their sweet, sweet time to interlace their fingers in an old, almost-sensuous dance that they’d mastered together, completely in step with each other. “Just the place?” they asked, a challenge hidden between every word and the next.

Something dark oozed through his eyes; a flame sparking to life behind his false composed mask. It made them feel a little smug, knowing that he’d never be able to douse that fire; that he’d always want them so terribly.

“You love making things difficult, don’t you, sweetie?” His voice was a little more gruff now, a sharpness there that reminded them that he was at his wits’ end, and that his nerves were fraying every time he was in their presence—in only the best, most delicious ways possible. “No. Not just the place.” Thumb brushing against the back of their hand, he leaned in to whisper in their ear. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I can’t think of anything else that could convince me to stay,” they began to say as they toyed with the chain on his collar, “After all—”

Sylus pulled them onto his lap as he collapsed onto the bed, without even waiting for them to finish that sentence. It seemed that they’d worn out what little patience he’d had left, and he was too far gone in his amorous haze to comprehend a single word more.

“Mi dispiace,” he managed to say, though his chest heaved with the effort of restraint, and his irises were almost completely black as he stroked the small of their back with a practiced hand that had memorized every curve and expanse of skin. “I’ll come up with a better bargain next time. Now, I’m a little preoccupied with you.”

Well. Dinner could wait, they suppose.

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[popamolly]

Hi! I saw your request are open ^^

I have an idea. Can you please do an Adam and Vox (separate) with their S/O on their wedding night? She’s nervous because she’s a virgin and never done the deed before. Can you make it a soft and gentle smut please? If not then no worries ^^

I hope you have a beautiful day :D

៸៸ ﹟ ‘I’LL BE GENTLE!’ ADAM, VOX X FEM!READER

pairing. vox x fem!reader, adam x fem!reader

warning. implied au, characters may be a bit ooc, smut, gentle sex, p in v, oral sex, fluff, adam exists, established relationship, porn with plot, i lowkey got a bit lazy with vox, somewhat edited

author’s note. this was such a cute idea! thank you for the request @starlightfire97 , hope you enjoy this!

⛧ MASTERLIST

— ADAM ୨୧˚

The wedding bells seemed to echo the rhythm of your racing heart as you descended the church steps, Adam’s hand firmly clasping yours. The joyous applause of family members surrounded you, but it was Adam’s smile, filled with love and promise, that made your heart swell with happiness.

You and Adam had journeyed through a year of dating filled with understanding, patience, and shared dreams. When he finally asked for your hand in marriage, there was no hesitation in your response. To you, Adam was not just a partner but the embodiment of true love and the fulfillment of your dreams.

Despite the fiery passion that simmered between you both constantly, you were a devoted Christian, reserving the intimacy of sex for the sanctity of marriage. Adam’s respect for your values only deepened your admiration for him, reinforcing the certainty that you were meant to be together.

But now you were married. Of course tonight you were prepared and more than ready to give yourself to Adam as you two were not a pair anymore, you were one, souls intertwined until death parted you. You were excited to explore this new found journey of pleasure within yourself and to share it with Adam but like every other virgin during their first time, you were nervous but tried not to show it. You tried to relax against the plush satin pillows as Adam kissed your inner thigh tenderly, looking up at you with so much adoration that your heart skipped a beat.

“Look at this, you wore this pretty set for me?” Adam smiled as he continued to kiss your inner thigh, chuckling slightly as he watched you try to close your legs from the nerves but his grip stopped you, “Relax for me sweetheart.”

“Sorry..I just,” You felt your whole body heat up in embarrassment. This was supposed to be a perfect moment and here you were getting all shy about the white lingerie you wore for him. You started to get in your head about all the women he might have slept with before you, they had more experience, and just downright knew how to be sexier. Your mind swirled with emotions and ultimately made the conclusion about how this must be a burden for Adam— the fact that he has to give his wife experience basically started from the beginning must be boring to him right? Or annoying? Why were you even thinking about this right now? God, now you wanted to just curl up into a ball and cry. “I’m sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, doing what you felt was natural and that was apologizing profusely, “I—”

“Hey, hey,” Adam’s voice was soft yet firm as he moved his body up toward you until he was only inches away from your face, “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything tonight baby. Whenever you’re ready, we can wait for as long as you want.”

You shook your head and met his gentle gaze with your own, “but I want to, tonight. Now.”

“Then do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” You said instantly.

“Then let me make you feel good,” Adam trailed burning kisses along the side of your neck, making you turn your head to the side to allow him more access to the sensitive skin as you let out a breathless sigh, “Whenever you want to stop then just tell me, I’ll stop. Okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip to watch Adam move down your body again and settle between your legs, loosening his tie with a smile as he kissed your inner thigh again but this time he hooked a finger around your white lace panties, pulling it aside to expose your pussy that was already wet from just his kisses alone. Adam wasted no time before sliding the flat of his tongue along your slick folds, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches your body shiver from the new feeling. With no objection from you, he continued, groaning at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. It was everything he imagined and more, to him you were so beautiful and he was the first and only man to see you in such a state. It made his cock undeniably hard at the mere thought.

Adam began to slurp and suck on your folds, tongue moving up slightly to toy with your sensitive clit. Your moans filled the hotel room, hands gripping the bedsheets so tight that your knuckles turned white. With your head tossed back against the pillows Adam’s continued lapping up your pretty cunt with eagerness, as if he was a man starved. You shuddered against his hold, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you felt that tingly feeling the pit of your stomach begin to build, “Ah! A-Adam! I’m…”

“Are you close baby?” Adam had teased your tight hole with a finger before sliding it in with ease, between your slick arousal and relaxed body you hardly noticed it until he began moving it inside you, curling and twisting the digit to find that sweet spot within you that had you back arching off the bed, “You going to cum for me? Fuckin’ do it, sweetheart. Make a mess of my face yeah? I fucking need it.”

Adam added another finger, stretching you out with his fingers with a groan as he continued to lap up your pussy greedily, sucking on your puffy clit only to watch as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. His grip had you pinned to the mattress, forcing you to take every ounce of pleasure he was giving you and to chase that sweet release you so desperately needed, “C’mon baby, give it to me.”

This new side of Adam was someone you could get use to. His dirty talk had you in shambles, the driving force you need to come undone around his fingers and mouth. Your whole body shook with pleasure as you screamed out Adam’s name, hands gripping his brown hair so tight that you sure you were hurting him at that point but your husband didn’t mind, in fact, he barely even noticed it as he smiled up at you, placing a gentle kiss along your clit as he face glistened with your essence.

It wasn’t long before the both of you tossed the remainder of each other’s clothes to the floor, locking your lips in a heated kiss. Adam rubbed his cock against your pussy, his hardened length teasing your sensitive clit. He sat up, taking ahold of his cock to glide his swollen tip along your folds with a smile as you shook your head at him in slight awe and nervousness, “How is that going to fit?”

“It will,” Adam laughed, his tip prodding at your entrance, “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” You mumbled, eyes never leaving his cock as he began to slowly slip inside you.

“Louder.”

“I do Adam, I trust you! Now just put it in…please.” You were breathless, cheeks puffed out slightly as you tried to brace yourself for the pain but Adam stilled his hips yet again to look at you,

“Relax, (Y/N). Relax for me.” The pad of his thumb rubbing small circles along your inner thigh before he hooked his hands under your knees, pressing them to your shoulders so you were completely exposed to him and at his mercy. He pushed his thick curved cock into you slowly and you swore you felt something rip inside you but you took Adam’s advice and relaxed despite the stinging pain you felt. Soon enough, as Adam’s bottom out inside you balls deep, the pain was overpowered by immense pleasure.

“Adam..” You moaned, nails digging into his back at the new feeling. You felt so impossibly full that you were sure you could feel him in his stomach, “fuck.”

“I’ll go slow,” Adam groaned out, tossing his head back at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around his cock, “How does that feel sweetheart?”

“So good..” You watched as Adam began moving his hips back and forth, thrusting inside of you slow and deep so you’d feel every inch of him. Your pussy just seemed to be sucking him right in and just like that you knew you’ve become addicted to this new height of pleasure. It was going to be a long night.

— VOX ୨୧˚

Your wedding day was filled with nothing but love and laughter. It was truly a fairytale ripped out of a book and you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your days with your new partner in this life and the next. Now you were completely at the mercy of your new husband, prepared to give him your entire being now that your souls were intertwined as one. But of course you were nothing but a ball of nerves. You just wanted this night to be perfect like the scenes in movies but of course, not everything could go exactly as planned.

Everything between the wedding venue to the hotel was a blur. The both of you hardly made it through the door of your shared room, ripping at each other's clothes with a heated passion that had you burning with desire. Vox had you aching for his touch, your pussy become wet with your arousal as you tried to relax and swallow your nerves.

“(Y/N),” Vox was breathless as he watched you get onto your knees in front of him, his blouse open and black tie loosening, with his face stained with the color of lipstick, “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you ran the palm of your hand along his hardening cock, feeling it twitch underneath your touch. You looked up at those yellow eyes for approval and when he nodded, you took that as your opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down. His cock sprung free, its tip hit your jaw lightly, making you groan as you feel yourself becoming more aroused.

He was above average, with a thickness that would surely stretch you out.

"Let me guide you," Vox tried his best to keep his composure as he ran his fingers through your hair, gripping it gently to bring your head closer to his throbbing cock. "Open your mouth, darling.”

You hesitantly wrapped your hand around his girth, before pumping him slowly while taking his tip into your mouth. You sucked gingerly, having absolutely no clue to what you were doing tried to do whatever felt natural— but by the way Vox’s grip tightened on your hair, you were doing something right. A bit confident now, you took more of his length into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. Your husband groaned lowly above you, making you rub your thighs to get some sort of friction between your own legs because just the sight of Vox and the sound of his voice made you dripping wet for him. Who knew that pleasing your husband would be something you would like? It has only been a few moments and in that short span of time you were addicted to his cock.

“Now take it out your mouth, sweetheart,” Vox instructed you, his gaze never leaving your face, “And then just slide that pretty tongue along the side of it— fuck, that’s good.”

You followed his instructions, taking his cock out of your mouth and leaning forward to slide your warm tongue along the underside of his cock, making your husband above you shiver from the pleasure. You were starting to get the hang of it now and Vox only affirmed your thoughts at the feeling of his fingertips gripping your hair so tightly.

“Fuck, just like that— you’re so so good, love,” Vox tossing his head back just as he thrusts his hips forward without warning, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you choke. He continued to hold your head in place as he roughly thrusted in and out of your warm, delicious mouth. Vox loved this sight of you, your innocent eyes looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. You looked disgraceful, sinful, and it was all because of him.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I got a bit carried way,” When Vox pulled away to let you take air, a string of saliva mixed with pre cum dripped down your chin, smearing more of your lipstick. Your black mascara now running from the few tears that slipped out of the corner of your eye when you were choking. Being a concerned husband, he cupped your face in his hands waiting on your consent to continue. You could only nod in response, your throat slightly sore as you leaned into his touch with a small smile, “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

"My sweet wife," Vox tugged your hair back, forcing you to look at him as he planted a soft kiss on your lips, “Get on the bed for me.”

You did as you were told. Laying flat on your back as you watched Vox take off the rest of his clothes, his swollen tip still leaking with precum. He joined you on the bed, hovering over you to lean down to attach his lips to yours yet again, this time the kiss was more needy, almost sloppy, but it made the butterflies swarm in you all the same. Your breathy sighs fill the room and the two of you discard the remainder of your clothes. Vox’s eyes looked over your bare figure, a his gaze lingered a bit too long and the insecurities you felt began creeping up again, threatening to spill over. It made you cover yourself in a poor attempt to hide away from his gaze.

"(Y/N), hey…" Vox grabs ahold of your hand to place a gently kiss on it, “You want me to stop?” He got comfortable in between your legs, placing a lingering kiss onto your inner thigh, his mouth dangerously close to where you wanted him. You stared down at him through half lidded eyes, biting down on your bottom lip when you see the love and adoration in his eyes, as if you were a rare treasure he needed to cherish, "Can I..?" He asks you, fully understanding if you didn't want to continue but Vox wasn't met with rejection. Instead you bucked your hips up slightly with a nod, silently begging him to take you.

“Yes..” You were breathless, mouth agape as he dragged his warm tongue along your slick folds, “Ah~!”

“There you go baby,” Vox groaned against your wet pussy, “Let me fuck you with my tongue yeah?”

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

[the-fiction-witch]

I'm Gonna Kill Him

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Angsty Smut!

Requested:

Hello! Before I start, I just wanted to say that I love your book so much! Could you create an imagine or a smut scene from your Jack Dawkins' book where they've broken up, and Y/N visits Jack's place that led them to having a angry/makeup sex? Then, a week later, Y/N discovers she's pregnant with his baby, which ultimately brings them back together.

Warnings : angst / angry sex, cheating, slapping, spanking, choking, biting,

I didn't want to go back, I felt like I was never going to hear the end of it. 

But I want my damn book back. 

So I got myself dressed into my black and emerald dress doing my utmost to look beautiful and glamorous, If I have to see him then god damn it he's gonna have to look at me like I'm a princess. 

I finished up and headed out into town making sure I was seen, making a point to be seen by men until I reached the hospital. I headed in proudly seeing the usual bustle of nurses and patience.

"Ohh Miss Y/n, Dr Dawkins is in his room" Hetty smiled as she saw me

"Thank you Hetty" I smiled 

"He has said he didn't want you in there miss y/n" 

"I'm well aware of what he wants." I rolled my eyes as I headed up to his room not even bothering to knock simply opened the door and saw Jack lying on his bed fiddling with a coin between his fingers, he looked up and looked annoyed 

"Ohh. What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want. Where is it?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about" 

"Where is my book, Jack?"

"How should I know?"

"I left it here, I missed it when I was packing, I know you have it, where is it?"

"Why would I want your mouldy old book? I don't have it." He snapped getting up from his bed

"I know you do, you're just keeping it to be hurtful"

"Hurtful! I'm not the one who went bloody psycho !"

"PSYCHO!"

"You heard me!"

"I wasn't the one who violated the sanctity of a union"

"Ohh here we go again! I didn't violate anything!"

"You liar!"

"At least she didn't kick me out of bloody bed in the morning!"

"So you admit it!"

"Yeah fine, I admit it! does that soothe your ego princess!" 

Immediately I slapped him across the face and he didn't even flinch 

".... I will never hit a woman. But your making it really fucking tempting!"

"Ohh go on then you scrawny little shit I'd like to see you try!"

"I was a naval officer you think I can't take a little lady in a fight!"

"Officer! Like hell, you only were because you sat on the right laps!" 

"How dare you!" He yelled, "You repugnant little witch!"

I went to slap him again but he grabbed my wrist before I could throwing my arm back

"Ohh you gonna hit me with your parasol too?" He glared 

"You are an unbelievable bastard! I can't believe I-"

"You what?"

"I can't believe I even considered us for a moment!"

"Yeah well same here! I dodged a bloody bullet. I'd have spent my life stuck married to you!"

"Ohh I'd have made your life a living hell every second of it just for the thrill of it!"

"You would wouldn't you! you'd have turned me into some little pitiful house husband just to spide me wouldn't you!" 

"I would I'd have torn you down so low you'd be looking up to kiss my feet!" I yelled "And I'd have taken pleasure in it you evil man! treacherous! fuckwit!"

He grabbed my waist and pulled me into a kiss, I was so very angry with him, I wanted to slap him off me but I didn't want to kiss him back I wanted to win! I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my submission, So I kissed him with force, trying to take control, but he would not allow that so easily forcing his tongue down my throat but I argued with him even at this moment battling with him in a war of our tongues, I grabbed his shirt desperate for control but he grabbed my waist and unlaced my dress, making quick work of it given his quick nibble surgeons fingers, I didn't want him to win so I began unbuttoning his trousers, once undone he grabbed my waist and forced me down onto the bed But I grabbed his hips and forced him down flat on the mattress 

"Don't you even think about it!" He groaned flipping us over so I was under him 

"I refuse to be under such a bastard." I gritted my teeth 

"You can ride me if you wish." 

"Not on your life." 

"Open your legs, Or I'll bend you over it's up to you." 

"Maybe I'll bend you over."

"You would you little succubus!"

"Well, how else was I meant to keep up with you!"

"You always did you were a little Fucking whore for me" He growled forcing off my dress "God damn it you are an evil, conniving, little witch but god had to give you that fucking body didn't he!" 

"He didn't have to make you such an unreasonable, arrogant, illiterate, Imbosile but here we are" I smirked clawing as his shirt 

"And we both know what he gave me to make up for that" He growled pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and forcing off his shirt as he pulled me into another aggressive kiss I clawed down his chest almost drawing blood as he forced me on my knees, 

"Don't even think about it, Jack!" I glared but he forced my hips up to his and dug his nails into my ass

"I'll do much more than think about it" he smirked pushing off his trousers and forcing himself inside me, 

as much as I hated it, my anger bubbling in my bones, but... I moaned as I had missed the feeling of him inside me, he didn't waste a single moment starting his fast and angsty thrusts, pounding into me like his life utterly depended on it, I moved my hips back trying to take control but I think it was a little late for that even so I made sure to force him into the pace I wanted which only frustrated him more, the bed creaking and squeaking, his violent grunts and groans much the sounds one would make in a fight tumbling from behind me until he began to slow his breaths getting looser 

"That all you got little boy?" I smirked moving myself 

"I. Am. Not. A boy!" He groaned grabbing my hair and pulling on it to bring my ear to his lips "Don't make have to teach my succubus a lesson!" He growled bitting on my shoulder 

"Ughhhhhh! Uhhhhh!" I squealed given his pace didn't stop his angle hitting where I needed "You whore so bad you missed me this much?!" 

"Missed you? You know what I did I missed your pussy princess I've got it just how I love it. But we wanna talk about who missed who, who came here showing off like she was the fucking queen all for her little fucking book back"

"and you caved this quickly? I thought you had more resilience than that Jack?"

"Not around you I don't" He smirked moving a hand to rub my clit 

"Uhhhhhh!" I gasped and he forced me back down onto the pillow "See I knew you missed me" I gasped 

"You can't blame me for missing a pussy I've fucked for the last two years. took a long time to get you this good." 

"Like I didn't train you" I smirked "Jack please-"

"Yeah? you need me that bad you had to come see me?" he cooed "Cause you know I'm the only person in port victoria who can make you cum"

"I can do it myself then I don't have to deal with your bloody ego!"

"fine, then I'll stop-" He smirked going to sloe

"Don't you fucking dare Jack!" I groaned forcing him to move quicker until I almost ripped his sheets as I screamed reaching my high 

"fuck you sound good like that" He groaned "I could almost put up with your shit for that noise" 

"I bet you could" I smirked forcing us over so he was down on his back 

"I knew you couldn't resist" He smirked

"You dare I will slap that smirking face of yours" I warn moving to ride him as aggressively as possible 

"UGhhhhhhhh fucking- you evil little thing"

"shut up Jack," I warn bouncing and moving mercilessly on him 

"Come on then princess make me cum" He smirked 

"I said shut up!" I yelled wrapping my hands around his neck to slightly choke him 

"UUughhhhhhhhhh!" he groans "Fuck-" He gasped his hips bucking like crazy as he buried himself inside of me so I pulled my hands back and caught my breath "Fine. I admit it. I've missed you" he gasped 

"Fine. I missed you too." I sighed climbing off him and going to get my dress but he grabbed me and pulled me back into the bed so he could cuddle me my head on his chest 

"Now you have... all of that out of your system, and have had time to pout. am I allowed to actually explain myself?"

"What's there to explain, you fucked her Jack. Plain and simple, what do you have to explain?"

"Will you listen anyway?" He asked stroking my hair 

"Fine. If you want to waste your breath."

"She has a problem"

"ohh I bet she did-"

"No. Listen. shut your mouth a while and listen to what I'm saying." he snapped "She has a problem, a medical problem, inoperable, incurable, she'll be dead within the month if not sooner" he explained quietly as he gently pets my hair "She was an innocent"

"was she? I bet she told you that." I said back almost in a whisper 

"Y/n. I swear to you, she told me, in confidence that she was an innocent, given the state of her condition she accepted her death and had began to make arrangements for the future,"

"And where do you come into all this?"

"I'm her doctor. I've been treating her. She asked me to... she said of all the things in this world that she will miss, she wanted to feel the touch of a man just once in her life." He whispered "So I did, Yes I fucked her. Should I have done it... I don't know. But do I regret it? No. would I do it again, I frankly don't know. I'm not sure I would If I'd have known I'd lose you because of it."

"Why you? She could have asked many, barely a man in Port Victoria that wouldn't want to fuck a virgin."

"Because I'm her doctor, and I was engaged. She trusted me. She didn't want to be used like some old whore she wanted to feel loved, and she knew she could trust me because I'm her doctor, and she wouldn't leave a man utterly in love with her behind, because she knew I loved you."

"Is that true?"

"Why would I lie to you now? you've already left me."

"why didn't you just tell me that?"

"Because I fucked another woman plain and simple... you didn't want to listen and it would only dig myself deeper if I did" 

"...it wasn't what you did Jack."

"No?"

"No. I just wish you'd have told me first."

"What?" he asked sitting up  a little 

"If you had come to me, and told me about her, about her illness, about what she had asked of you. I'd have allowed it." 

"No, you wouldn't-"

"I would. Because it is a kind thing to do Jack, if I was dying I'd have asked you too. I wish you had come and asked me, I'd have allowed it, but instead, I had to find out afterwards, from Sneed of all people not even you, that you broke my trust."

"I know, I was just worried you'd be angry if I told you." 

"I was more angry you didn't"

"That's fair." He nods "I fucked up, and I know that. it doesn't matter now... She's dead anyway."

"What?"

"Passed away this morning." 

"I'm sorry Jack-"

"It's fine. she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'm happy, I could make her final days somewhat enjoyable"

"You're kind, and sweet when you want to be" 

"I am sorry. Believe me."

"Well... it doesn't matter now does it."

"I guess not." he sighed "She didn't even call me Jack."

"No?"

"No. Just Doctor Dawkins" He chuckled 

"Did you use her name?"

"I did. I wanted to make her feel loved... But I thought of you." He whispered kissing my forehead 

"You did?"

"I did. I imagined her body as yours, her voice as yours," He said "You know you're the only girl who can satisfy me. so I thought of you"

"... I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." I sighed 

"Y/n..."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Is there, any possibility, no matter how slim? That, you and I may... rekindle even a portion of what we had before?" 

"I doubt it, Jack." I said moving to see his face "I will always love you, but I can't forgive you." 

"Could I do anything for you to forgive me?"

"No. Once trust is broken... like a delicate vase chattered, the pieces may be placed back, but you will always see the crack." I explained "Who's to say... another girl, in a similar state, asks the same of you, I cannot trust that you wouldn't do it again"

"... I understand." he nods "And I am sorry. I will always love you, you know that. No matter what you do, or say, my heart will always be yours." 

"And Mine yours." I smiled giving him a sweet kiss "I should go." I said climbing out the bed and starting to get dressed again 

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you," he said as he watched me dress 

"I'm sure you shall find ladies to spend of the evening." 

"It's not the evening that worries me, it's the mornings, and the middays, and the afternoons, and the middle of the nights, a fuck is a fuck, but when you cum it's over, with you... every moment and all of it felt like heaven" 

"Well, such are the consequences of your actions." I sighed "Now? my book."

He rolled his eyes sitting up slipping his trousers on and pulling my book from under his mattress 

"Thank you" I snapped taking it back "A reason you kept it?"

"...reminds me of you." 

"You always complained you couldn't read it. my stupid spider scrawl handwriting"

"I can't. but I know what it says... when I read it, chasing the words around the page I- I heard your voice reading it to me" 

for a moment I felt teary "Keep it." I said handing back the book 

"No." he said pushing it back into my hand and kissing my lips in a soft and gentle way "Please don't labour me with memories of you." 

"Alright," I nodded "Goodbye Jack."

"Goodbye Y/n" He nods fighting back his tears 

I took my book and I left heading home. 

I sat in bed fresh as the morning sun, unable to bring myself to rise just yet, I turned and saw my book on my bedside table and I thought of him, for a moment all our nights of enthroned passion returned, I thought of our last night together over a month ago now of angst and anger, I thought of how he held me that night, how he kissed me still with all the love that he had always done so, 

I thought of the most wonderful moments, Of how his head would settle in my lap after the day's work, I would twist and knot my fingers in his golden locks, he would press a kiss to my thighs, and I would read to him, all that I had written, and he would offer me suggestions of words that suited better, listing synonyms for me to replace the overused words. 

I forced such thoughts away and sat myself up checking the day on my calendar I knew what to expect today pulling back my covers but- they were as white as sheep. This couldn't be? I was late already. I tried not to allow panic to set in given my typical irregularities.

"Miss I have brought your you porridge with honey" The maid smiled as she came through with my breakfast but the simple smell was enough

"Out." I demanded throwing my head off my bed to upturn my stomach into the bucket I had left there, and she scurried away. "No... No this can't be possible." I forced myself up and over to my mirror pulling back my nightie to expose my stomach it didn't look any different or maybe it did... I don't know. and the memory of that night flooded into my mind, of him finishing burying himself inside me as I rode him, "No... no no no.... I'm gonna kill him..." I whined grabbing my dress and hurrying as fast as my feet could to the hospital rushing up to his room without a word. But I froze up as I saw his door- 

to think of all that had happened, How I stormed out, I'd returned once and clearly that was an awful mistake I- didn't exactly feel thrilled I was returning yet again. but I knocked and soon enough he pulled it open.

"Oh, its you. What can I do for you?" He asked fixing his waistcoat

"I need you." I told him rushing into his room

"Uhh okay" He nods shutting his door with a wicked smile "So... Shall I repeat our last night my darling?"

"No." I snapped "I need your... medical, Intervention"

"my medical intervention?"

"Yes."

"You realize patients have to wait in the waiting room you know, you can't just come up to a doctor's bedroom to get seen faster, even if it is you."

"Jack. Please." I told him fear in my voice tears in my eyes and he melted his own panic set in 

"What is it?"

"I am... so very scared Jack."

"Alright just sit down, tell me what's wrong," he said helping me to sit on his bed 

"My monthly time is late."

"Alright, well such thing can happen you have been stressed these few weeks" He explained nervously pacing around his room as I spoke 

"Over a month."

"Perhaps simple change in your cycle" 

"I have been vomiting." 

"A bad fish may have simply turned your stomach," he said his fear growing as he too was coming to the conclusion I had already suspected but he didn't want it to be true, he didn't want to believe me, 

"My waist grows... Inch by inch. Almost weekly. gaining speed steadily"

"Bloating. could simply-"

"Jack. I might be pregnant." 

"You might." He nods "It could be a million other-"

"I. Might be pregnant." I told him getting to my feet "By the grace of god I need to know." 

"I'd need to track your cycle completely, and I don't have that information."

"You had it as up to date as I did until I left and I haven't bleed since so-"

"Well, how do I know what you've been doing?" He glared So I slapped him and he adjusted his jaw a little "How am I to know who the father is?"

"You." I said and the colour drained from his skin "I have never been touched by another man as long as I have lived. If I am pregnant... It is yours. or it is gods." 

"It can't be mine. I always-"

"Not always, Our last evening together..."

"Fuck-" He gasped "I have thought of that night a hundred times, your right. I didn't"

"So, Doctor. What do we do?" 

"I need a rabbit." He sighed 

I had to return to the hospital, to Jack twice daily once in the morning, once at night and each day, for three days, and I had to drink a whole jug of water and well... expel it. and this was the final time. 

"There, Now will we know?" I asked 

"Yes. we should do" He said as he took it in a firm needle "shhh shhh there's a good girl" He cooed to the little rabbit on the table, I had since after all these days named her hoppy, and he injected her "Five minutes" he said 

"I do not understand how these things work" I sighed 

"You want me to explain?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough." He said turning to his tools a moment and grabbing a large knife 

"Jack- What are you doing!"

"Finding out" He began moving quickly to-

"No!" I yelped stopping him "Jack! that's barbaric." 

"I have been injecting her with your urine for the last three days, if her ovaries are enlarged and she has gone into heat then you are pregnant, if she hasn't you are not."

"Is there no way to check without killing her?"

"No. now do you want to know or not?" 

"There must be a simpler way."

"Yes, there is. we wait nine months and see if a baby pops out of you."

"You know we can't do that. but that doesn't mean I allow you to butcher an innocent animal"

We both stopped a moment as hoppy moved a little and began humping the blanket she sat on aggressively 

"I'd say she's in heat"

"I need to check. for sure."

"Fine" I sighed 

"I'll be quick, painless" he said making quick work of killing the poor thing before then cutting it open to examine her 

"And?"

".... her ovaries are Enlarged. Extremely so. She is in heat." He said dropping his knife on the table 

"So..."

"You're pregnant." 

"... I see." I nodded my hands settling on my stomach in absolute fear but Jack took my face in his hand and sweetly kissed me sending blood across my skin, till he pulled back stroking his nose on mine as he always used to

"This is the happiest news you could have given me."

"Happy? Jack, I am pregnant out of wedlock. My father will banish me, society will crucify me, and our child will suffer as a bastard all of its life." I explained, "What am I to do?" 

"I know exactly what you are to do. Take back my ring."

"What?"

"Take back my ring, return our lives to how they were, before my mistake, marry me by the end of the week and we, can raise our child together. As husband and wife," 

"We cannot-"

"Why not?"

"I already told my father of our cancelled engagement"

"Then tell him it was nothing but a lovers tiff. and that all is as it was." He said "I still love you, I still want us to be together, I still want to marry you. and I want us to raise our child together. Please. You cannot expect me to let you go again, I made that mistake once letting you walk away from me, I am not foolish enough to allow it again, especially not while my child grows in your womb" 

"You can not simply expect me to trust you again Jack."

"I'm not. I'm asking you to let me earn it back." He said, "Please Y/n." 

"Yes" I gasped

"You-"

"Yes Jack."

"Y/n... my darling" He cooed pulling me back to his lips. 

[mypoisonedvine]

Please please please do emperor Geta 🙏 maybe a dubcon situation where he uses his power over you, and "you heard me, take it off" but I would literally take anything of him ❤

i've been waiting for my turn to write this little freak i need him!!

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only!!, dubcon/noncon, a slap, a bit of public stuff/exhibitionism kinda, virgin!reader (she's a priestess so also mild religious themes), fingering, overall he's The Worst

"You heard me," he spat. "Take it off!"

And you had heard him, of course, but you didn't quite believe it. He knew you were no concubine or courtesan-- a high priestess hardly receives orders from mortals-- yet he ordered you around like any peasant. Spoiled fucking child he was...

"Now."

You nervously glanced at the guard detail surrounding you both; even if they weren't here, you were probably bound to his orders regardless, but it still felt absurd. In your own temple, which he'd cleared out in the middle of the day while people were praying and making sacrifices, he tells you to take off your robe. Does this man really have no decorum, no respect for sanctity?

"Don't test my patience, you will find it lacking," Geta warned. He was your emperor, you knew to disobey him was death, but most emperors were also worshippers-- they would do what you said, knowing it was a command from the gods.

Conflicted but unwilling to make him wait longer in case he made good on his threat, you unclasped the clip holding your robe at your shoulder, and the belt around your waist: then, it was all just fabric at your feet, and you were bare before him.

He had that hungry smile on his face, the one that curled his upper lip and bared his teeth while he flared his nostrils; you tried not to let any fear or discomfort show on your face, knowing he would only prey on it more.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him seeing you (even if it felt wrong, especially with a bunch of royal guards here as well), but priestesses were not to be touched. Ever. So when he stepped forward and reached for you, you instinctively smacked his hand away.

He pressed his lips together and, about ten times harder than you'd smacked him, hit you on the face. Your head spun and you instantly held your cheek-- only for him to grab your wrist and yank it hard, pulling you towards him as you yelped, exposing your stinging skin.

"You think I won't hurt you?" he growled. "Just because you're chosen by the gods? So was I-- except that you were chosen to read dusty old scrolls. I was chosen to rule!"

He dropped your wrist but you kept your face turned, tears beginning to run over it slowly; he brought his hand to your jaw, tilting it back and petting it as he got a good look at you.

"Mm, I think that'll leave a mark," he noticed, sounding quite proud of it.

But then that hand trailed down, fingers tracing along the front of your body-- eyes still trained on your face, which you willed not to show your fear.

And he cupped you between the legs somewhat roughly, exploring you until he found your entrance. When he shoved a finger inside, then you couldn't suppress a reaction, a wince to the unexpected intrusion. Apparently not satisfied with only a small amount of pain from you, he put another one inside and snarled as he pushed them both deep into you.

Yelping softly through your teeth, you shut your eyes tight and found yourself grabbing onto his robe, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

"You really are untouched," he marveled with a grin. "Or, you were."

He twisted the fingers and you shuddered, the sting only worsened by his mocking laugh as he watched you struggle. "Please, my emperor," you hissed softly, wondering if an appeal to his ego would soften him at all, "I-I won't disobey you, but please don't--"

He curled his fingers harder inside you, making your legs shake: you had to hold onto him just to stay upright. "Don't, what? Fuck you?" he assumed. "But don't you think it would be funny? A defiled oracle, once revered and protected, made into just another toy for the emperor? Used and tossed aside with the other cheap whores?"

He snorted; he really found it amusing, the idea of ruining you just because he could. Yeah, sounds hilarious-- you're a real fucking comedian.

"I won't do it," he decided as he took his fingers out of you, making you breathe a sigh of relief-- just for a moment. "Not here, at least. I'll be kind and take you to the palace first."

You looked up at him with wide eyes. "No-- please!" you begged. "I won't go-- you can't take me--!"

But his guards descended on you in an instant, restraining your arms with hardly any notice of your attempt to fight back, and on his command they dragged you from the temple and into his chariot. None of them seemed to mind that they were taking the oracle of the city hostage, naked, right there in the open streets. Citizens and worshippers watched in horror, but they were just as helpless as you to the emperor's whims.

"Now now, don't cry," he cooed darkly as he wiped a tear off of your injured face. "I won't be too cruel to you, once you've learned to obey."

[xxspringmelodyxx]

"𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

┗━━━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ⊰━━━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝑹𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒓 ⊰

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Angst ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 @𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓9 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐�� 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 <3333

The wind howled through Mondstadt, its chill matching the cold void in your heart. The grand clock tower struck midnight, marking the end of another wedding anniversary spent alone. Diluc's duties at the tavern and his clandestine affairs with Jean had eclipsed the sanctity of your marriage for the last time. The final thread of your patience snapped, and with a resolute heart, you made the decision that the marriage was over.

Gathering your belongings and your young daughter, Lian, you embarked on a journey back to your roots in Liyue. The journey was long, but your determination to start anew fueled your every step.

---

As the carriage made its way through the familiar yet distant landscape, you couldn't help but reflect on the early days of your marriage with Diluc. You had met him during a diplomatic visit to Mondstadt, where his stoic charm and unwavering sense of duty had drawn you in. His passion for protecting Mondstadt and his dedication to his family's legacy resonated with your own values, and it wasn’t long before love blossomed between the two of you.

In the beginning, your marriage was filled with joy and promise. You supported Diluc in his endeavors, and he, in turn, was your steadfast rock. However, as the responsibilities of running the Dawn Winery and his secret vigilante activities consumed more of his time, the distance between you grew. Jean's presence in his life, initially a source of mutual respect and friendship, gradually morphed into something more insidious.

Despite your attempts to communicate your feelings and the need for more quality time together, Diluc's focus remained elsewhere. Anniversaries came and went, each one a painful reminder of what you had lost. The final straw was this latest anniversary, spent entirely alone, with nothing but a perfunctory note from Diluc apologizing for his absence.

---

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to leave. You packed only the essentials, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. As you walked through the halls of the Dawn Winery one last time, memories of happier times flashed before your eyes. Lian, sensing your distress, clung to your side, her innocent questions about her father breaking your heart even more.

"Mommy, why isn't Daddy coming with us?" she asked, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

You knelt down to her level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Daddy has some important things to take care of, sweetheart. But we're going to see Grandma and Grandpa in Liyue. They'll be so happy to see you."

As you left Mondstadt, the weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders. You hoped that in Liyue, surrounded by the love and support of your family, you would find the strength to heal and rebuild your life.

---

Upon reaching the majestic gates of your family's mansion in Liyue, the familiar sight brought a flood of memories. The towering structure, with its intricate carvings and lush gardens, stood as a testament to the Lu Family's enduring legacy. The servants, upon recognizing you, bowed deeply and addressed you as 'Young Lady.' Their deference reminded you of your true standing, long obscured by the simplicity of life in Mondstadt.

"Mommy, why are they calling you 'Young Lady'?" Lian asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Taking her small hand in yours, you smiled softly and knelt to her level. "Because, Lian, we are from the Lu Family, the most prestigious family in Liyue. This is our home, and you are my precious daughter, the next in line to this legacy."

---

Your parents greeted you with open arms, their joy at seeing you and their granddaughter palpable. Your mother, with tears in her eyes, held you close. "We've missed you so much, my dear. Welcome home."

Your father, the patriarch of the Lu Family, stood tall and proud. His stern expression softened as he looked at you. "You've made the right choice coming back. This is where you belong."

Lian, overwhelmed by the attention and grandeur, clung to your side, her wide eyes taking in the opulent surroundings. You guided her through the mansion, showing her the rooms and gardens that had been your playground as a child. The familiarity of it all brought a sense of comfort and belonging that you hadn't felt in years.

---

Life at the Lu Family mansion was a stark contrast to the life you had known with Diluc. Surrounded by opulence and respect, you began to rediscover the strength and grace that had been dulled by years of neglect. You immersed yourself in family affairs, taking on responsibilities that had long been neglected in your absence.

Your parents, recognizing your need to reclaim your identity, involved you in the management of the family's businesses and social engagements. You attended meetings, hosted gatherings, and reconnected with old friends and allies. Each day, you felt a little more like the person you had been before Mondstadt, before Diluc, before the heartache.

Lian, too, thrived in this new environment. She made friends with the children of other noble families, and her laughter echoed through the halls of the mansion. Seeing her happiness, you knew you had made the right decision. This was the life you wanted for her, filled with love, support, and the security of family.

---

Meanwhile, Diluc remained ensnared in his affair with Jean, oblivious to the seismic shift that had occurred in your life. His days were consumed by the responsibilities of the Dawn Winery and his secretive vigilante activities, while his nights were filled with clandestine meetings with Jean. He had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, that his actions were justified by his duty to protect Mondstadt.

But as days turned into weeks, the absence of your presence began to gnaw at him. The empty halls of the Dawn Winery, once filled with your laughter and warmth, now felt cold and lifeless. He found himself reaching for you in the night, only to be met with emptiness. Jean's company, once a source of comfort, now felt hollow and inadequate.

---

The turning point came when an ornate invitation arrived at the Dawn Winery. It was an invitation to the annual Lu Family banquet, a coveted event that drew the elite from across Teyvat. Curiosity piqued, Diluc decided to attend, unaware of the shock awaiting him.

The invitation was beautifully crafted, with golden script and intricate designs. It spoke of a grand celebration, honoring the Lu Family's legacy and welcoming the return of their beloved daughter. The significance of the event was not lost on Diluc, and despite his reservations, he knew he had to attend.

---

As the date of the banquet approached, Diluc found himself growing increasingly anxious. He couldn't shake the feeling that this event would be more than just a social gathering. He prepared meticulously, choosing his finest attire and ensuring that everything was in order at the Dawn Winery in his absence.

Jean, sensing his unease, tried to reassure him. "It's just a banquet, Diluc. You'll be fine."

But Diluc couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more at stake. The thought of seeing you again, after all that had happened, filled him with a mix of dread and longing. He knew that he had made mistakes, that he had taken you for granted, and now he would have to face the consequences.

---

The grand hall of the Lu Family mansion was resplendent with golden chandeliers and elegant tapestries. The air buzzed with conversations and the clinking of fine china. As Diluc entered, he was struck by the opulence and grandeur of the setting. The hall was filled with dignitaries and nobles, all dressed in their finest attire.

As the banquet reached its peak, the hall fell silent as the patriarch of the Lu Family, your father, took the stage. With a commanding presence, he addressed the assembly. "Today, I am honored to announce the return of my beloved daughter and my only heir. Please welcome her and her daughter, my granddaughter, Lian."

The crowd parted as you stepped forward, Lian by your side. Diluc's breath caught in his throat as he saw you, the woman he had neglected, standing with the dignity and grace of true nobility. Realization struck him like a thunderbolt.

--

As your father finished his speech, Diluc's legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees, tears brimming in his eyes. The weight of his mistakes crushed his spirit, and in that moment of clarity, he knew he had lost something irreplaceable.

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Forgive me. I will end things with Jean. I promise. Just give me another chance."

You looked down at him, your heart a tumult of emotions. The power was now in your hands, and the future lay before you, filled with possibilities you had never dared to dream.

You looked into Diluc's eyes, searching for sincerity. "You hurt me deeply, Diluc. You made me feel invisible and unimportant. Why should I believe that things will be different now?"

Diluc's voice trembled with desperation. "Because I realize now what I have lost. I took you for granted, and I see now how much I need you in my life. Please, give me the chance to make things right."

The depth of his anguish mirrored your own, yet it felt like too little, too late. Your voice quivered with the weight of pent-up emotions. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love? To watch as they slowly drift away, knowing you're not enough to hold their attention?" Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. "Every day, I watched you slip further into Jean's arms, and every night, I cried myself to sleep, wondering what I did wrong."

Diluc flinched as if struck, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I was a fool," he whispered, voice breaking. "I let my responsibilities consume me, and I let my fears drive a wedge between us. But I've seen the truth now. Without you, my life is empty."

You shook your head, pain and anger warring within you. "How can I trust you again? You made promises before, Diluc. You vowed to love and cherish me, but those words became hollow. How do I know this isn't just another empty promise?"

He reached out, but you stepped back, creating a chasm between you that mirrored the emotional distance you'd felt for so long. "I understand your doubt," he said, his voice thick with remorse. "But I swear to you, I've changed. I've ended things with Jean. I’ve realized that I can't live without you and Lian."

The mention of your daughter brought fresh tears to your eyes. "Do you know how many times she's asked why her daddy isn't around? How many times I've had to lie and say you were busy because I couldn't bear to tell her the truth?"

Diluc's face crumpled, and he sank further into the ground, a broken man before you. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I've failed you both. But please, give me a chance to prove that I can be the husband and father you both deserve. I’ll do anything."

For a long moment, you stood there, the enormity of the decision pressing down on you. The pain he caused was a deep wound, but you also saw the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his plea. This was a man shattered by his own mistakes, begging for redemption.

"I need time," you finally whispered. "Time to heal, and time to see if your actions match your words. I won’t let you hurt me or Lian again."

Diluc nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes."

As you turned away, a flicker of hope sparked within you. It was a faint glimmer, buried beneath layers of hurt and betrayal, but it was there. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance to rebuild what had been broken. But it would take more than words; it would take time, patience, and a genuine commitment to change. Only time would tell if Diluc could truly make things right.

[bellaveux]

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

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

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

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

word count: 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Natasha,” your girlfriend greeted bitterly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, why are you smiling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have you. Your words repeated in her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” she heard you say.

“For what, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— navigation!

[kenzieluvsnanami]

kenzieluvsnanami :: a wash day drabble (curlyhaired!reader) ☆ ✧✩₊˚.✧

cw // literally none, just a lot of fluff, reader is a slightly black coded but honestly applies to anyone with curly hair, reader is a a lil dramatic but its ok // wc 1.1k

thinking about wash day with my fave. the day every curly-haired girl dreads, comb getting caught in your dry, brittle hair as you rushed to get ready the day before, a sign that it was that time of the week.

with a reluctant huff, you would pull your sleepy body from the deviously snug sheets - gently lifting your husband's arm from where it had been resting, slung over your small frame to pull your body impossibly closer during the early hours of the morning.

it was now the early afternoon, a sunday of course. the only day the two of you really allowed yourselves to fully relax - no alarms, no plans… just peace.

well, that was until you had decided to leave wash day to the end of the week - your own procrastination desecrating the sanctity of sunday tranquility and replacing it with a slight irritability.

"honey...what are you doing?" his voice a couple octaves deeper from the lack of use; something that was soooo alluring to you, akin to a siren’s call in many ways, and how in that moment you would feel it luring you back into the cosy comfort of your shared bed, his solid arms, hmmmm….

but you couldn’t. because you still had to wash your hair.

you'd spin around and pull your bonnet off; wordlessly revealing your bone-dry hair - usual moist, defined curls being reduced to a ball of frizz.

"i see."

see whilst your husband didn’t have curly hair himself, he had definitely learnt a lot about it from your continual rants about the cost and effort of maintaining it; his thoughtful questions and observations being so endearing to you, his desire to understand further so he could better empathise and even help was something that truly meant a lot and actually brought the two of you closer together.

whilst he thought your hair always looked beautiful, in that moment he could understand that your hair was certainly in need of some…. tender love and care.

and in the mood you were currently in, it wasn’t certain that you were in the right mindset to be as careful as your hair as you would usually want to be.

wiping his eyes one last time, your husband would slip out of bed and amble towards you - hands outstretched as he settled them in your hair, lightly teasing out the larger knots with his fingertips.

"hmmm.. i remember you telling me that when your hair gets like this, you'd have to-" “wash it, yes i do ken” you would huff, feeling like an insolent child at the dire lack of patience you currently had but you couldn’t help it! the mere thought of having to go through all of the elaborate steps of your hair routine completely fatigued you.

without another word, your husband would take the assortment of products you were cradling in your arms and lead you to the bathroom.

"give me a second."

returning with a pillow, he would get you to sit on the bathroom floor; legs crossed on top of the pillow and your head rested on the edge of the bathtub.

"now, would the lady like a clarifying treatment or the usual hydrating shampoo?" he joked, a small smile forming on your face at the sight of your normally quite stoic husband playing pretend with you to stir you from your poor mood.

“…i think i’ll stick with my usual please” your eyes closing in complete bliss and relaxation as your husband turned on the shower head and began to wet your hair, the brittle strands alleviating under the downpour - becoming much more manageable.

skilled fingers would weave themselves into your hair, massaging shampoo deep into your flaky scalp; soft moans occasionally spilling out as he hit tender spots where the knots had been particularly tangled.

as he rinsed out the first wash of shampoo, you'd actually start to laugh; realising how overly melodramatic you were being over washday, forgetting how attentive and caring your husband was.

of course, he wouldn’t leave you to struggle on your own! whilst he may not always fully understand how to help, he was always willing to do anything for those he loved.

and that anything included the gentle drying of your now freshly washed hair, an old t-shirt collecting the excess water nicely as he helped you up back to the vanity in your bedroom.

"what did you want to do to your hair today, my love" he would murmur, pumping your leave-in conditioner into his palms, hands alternating between smoothing and scrunching your hair.

“well, i want to wear my hair out for the next couple days so what i normally do is just a couple of braids to keep my hair from frizzing too much and keep some definition”

you could practically hear your husband's brain processing everything you just said, brows slightly furrowed as he glanced back down at your hair; deciding what tools would be best to help you.

he held up a wide tooth comb in one hand and a denman brush in the other. "these two will be alright then?"

you’d then smile and nod, his hands using the wide tooth comb to first part your hair into 6 neat grids; securing each with small hair clips. then he’d delicately detangle each section from tip to root, applying rosemary oil to the scalp and a dab of gel to the strands before braiding the section.

"is this okay?" he’d question after the first braid, not sure if his braiding skills were as strong as your own.

“it’s perfect baby, thank you”, your words of affirmation easing his uncertainty, movements noticeably more confident as he went around and finished the 5 other braids. the two of you discussing what your plans would be for the rest of the day, deciding on a filling brunch and movie marathon being the most optimum way to spend a sunday.

a light kiss to your forehead would signal the end of nanami's salon services, his eyes filled with admiration as you turned and beamed back up at him; wondering how you were able to get so lucky and end up with someone as special as him.

a/n ✧✩₊˚. had to romanticise wash day otherwise i was literally never going to do it omg my arms ache

[corruptedcaps]

Inner Demons

Special thanks to @lsat (discord: thedivergence, Twitter: LSAT1886) for providing the idea and the images used here.

In the quiet corridors of Saint Agnes Convent, Mother Superior Mary Catherine moved with grace, her silver hair framing a face etched with kindness and wisdom. Her gentle presence enveloped the nuns in a soothing aura of compassion. With each step, the creaking floorboards bore witness to decades of devotion.

Mother Mary Catherine's care extended beyond the spiritual realm; she knew the name and story of every sister under her watch. Her wrinkled hands crafted remedies for ailments, and her warm smile healed wounded spirits. In the convent's courtyard, where roses bloomed in vibrant hues, she often gathered the sisters for moments of shared laughter and reflection.

The tranquility of Saint Agnes Convent was soon interrupted when a bus rolled into the quiet convent, carrying a group of new sisters. Mother Mary Catherine stood at the gates ready to meet her new flock but in particular was interested to meet one new member in particular.

Kat stepped off the bus and immediately lit up a cigarette. Her purple hair and leather jacket standing out amongst the crowd of pious women ready to start their new life devoted to god. By comparison Kat looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but then again the judge had given her the choice between the convent or jail and she had picked the habit over the prison jumpsuit but she was immediately starting to regret her choice.

Mother Superior locked her eyes on the young delinquent and walked over to her with an open mind and an open heart. Kat had just taken a long drag of her cigarette when she turned and accidentally blew the exhaled smoke in the Mother Superior’s face. Rather than apologize she instead laughed.

“Grey smoke, I guess that means there’s a new pope… or does that mean there’s isn’t? Whatever, which way to my room?” Kat said with a smirk. Mother superior stood in frozen shock at the young woman’s blatant disrespect. So much so that Kat eventually rolled her eyes and walked away to find her room.

As the days unfolded at Saint Agnes Convent, Kat's rebellious spirit began to infect her fellow newcomers. The once-pious group found themselves drawn to her edgy charm and the allure of more free wheeling spirit that seemed to exude from her. Within a week Kay had a small but growing group of followers who seemed to be less interested in their religious duties by the second.

The Mother Superior tried her best to bite her tongue and put their changing attitudes down to nervousness. She had hoped it would all settle itself soon enough but this hopeful thought was shattered as Mother Mary Catherine stumbled upon a scene that tested the limits of her patience.

In the dim moonlight, she discovered Kat and a group of sisters stumbling back into the sacred grounds, laughter echoing in the hallowed corridors. The scent of alcohol lingered, staining the air with a discordant note of rebellion.

Mother Mary Catherine's eyes widened in disbelief as she witnessed the blatant disregard for the convent's sanctity.

“Ladies! This is simply unacceptable! This is no way future servants of god to be acting!” She said letting her anger rise for the first time in a decade.

“Oh shut up you old crone! The only person I serve is myself.” Kat giggled drunkenly, with her cohort joining in with the laughter as they stumbled off to their rooms.

Tears welled in Mother Mary Catherine's eyes as she struggled to comprehend the unraveling of the sacred haven she had devoted her life to. In the face of this final straw, she grappled with the challenge of restoring order to a sisterhood now teetering on the edge of chaos.

Determined to salvage the sanctity of her order and the souls of all the girls infected by Kat, Mother Mary Catherine knew she had to do something extreme.

With unwavering conviction, Mother Mary Catherine headed to the library and entered a room she alone had the key too. It was a room she had swore to never set in foot to but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Scanning the arcane tomes in the private room, she finally found the book she was looking for. Pulling it off the shelf she had a moment of pause as she read its cover. It’s Latin roughly translating to ‘Witches Handbook’. All the books in here were vile and evil tomes that the church had collected over the centuries.

Flipping the pages she found what she was looking for. Demonic exorcism. She knew that Kat had a poison in her that needed to be removed and while it wasn’t demonic in nature, she was sure this spell would work to exorcise Kat’s ‘inner’ demons.

As if to solidify her resolve, Mother Mary Catherine suddenly heard the cackling laughter of Kat coming from her bed chambers. It was almost taunting the Mother Superior whose gentle features grimaced at the sound and ended her conflicted mind.

After an hour of waiting for the cruel laughter to die down, Mother Mary Catherine made her way across the solemn hush of the convent to Kat’s room. Creeping in she was relieved to find that Kat was passed out.

The Mother Superior commenced the unorthodox exorcism over Kat’s unconscious form, her words resonating with an ancient power. As she uttered the sacred verses, a tangible shift occurred—the air thickened with an eerie energy, and a vibrant purple cloud materialized, swirling around Kat’s inebriated body.

Mother Mary Catherine's eyes widened in astonishment as the ethereal mist, laden with the essence of Kat's rebellious spirit, rose from her mouth. The bed chambers seemed to pulse with an otherworldly force. Yet, to her shock, the amorphous cloud didn't dissipate into the air; instead, it surged toward Mother Mary Catherine, quick as a gust of wind.

Before she could react, the purple mist enveloped her, winding its way into her mouth. A moment of eerie silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant echoes of the town. Mother Mary Catherine stood, breathless, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Before she could wonder what had happened Kat began to stir so she made her way quickly out.

By the time the Mother Superior had made it back to her bed, she was exhausted. She barely made it to her mattress before collapsing into a deep sleep. In the stillness of the night, Mother Mary Catherine drifted into an unsettling dream. The sacred confines of the convent transformed into a surreal landscape, where she encountered a distorted version of herself. In the dream, she stood tall, her demeanor starkly different—purple hair cascading down her shoulders, clad in tight leather that whispered of unstoppable power.

The dream cast her as a strict disciplinarian, a figure she scarcely recognized. Her eyes, usually wellsprings of compassion, held an unyielding authority that seemed to clash with the gentle guidance she had embodied for decades. As the dream unfolded, she found herself enforcing rules with an iron fist, a stark departure from the nurturing spirit that had defined her tenure as Mother Superior.

Most startling however was how she punished those who stepped out of line. She would pull off their habits and flog them for the whole convent to see. She would clamp their nipples, bind their limbs, and hit them with a leather whip. However the victim would seem to enjoy it, pleading with the Mother Superior to punish them further.

Before she could continue though, the Mother Superior found herself waking to the sounds of the convent’s cock, welcoming everyone to a new day. She jolted awake to find her undergarments soaked. Embarrassed she quickly undressed and got into a fresh outfit and took a moment to compose herself in the mirror.

She scarcely used the mirror and so didn’t notice that a lot of her wrinkles had seemed to have faded. Her silver hair was darker now, her liver spots had faded and her lips plump and full. She hadn’t even noticed that she had unconsciously picked out one of her older habits, one that teased cleavage.

However Mary Catherine took little notice of the change, save for an absentminded thought of how good she looked. That thought was quickly dispelled as she left her room and spotted Kat across the courtyard. Memories of last night flooded back into Mary Catherine’s mind of the exorcism and the wicked dream she had after. She was so preoccupied with it that she didn’t watch where she was going and bumped into one of the sisters, Sister Helen.

“Oh I’m so sorry Sister Mary Catherine, I didn’t see you there.” The sister said apologetically.

“You fool! Watch where you are going! And call me by my title!” Mary Catherine said, snapping at the girl uncharacteristically.

“I-I’m very sorry Sis- I mean Mother Superior. It won’t happen again.” Sister Helen said almost trembling and Mary Catherine could feel her panties begin to get wet at the sight.

“See that it doesn’t.” She said peering down at the girl with an intense stare. The nun quickly averted her gaze and left. Mary Catherine meanwhile felt a smirk cross her lips. She had never demanded such respect before, it felt intoxicating. She felt like she could boss anyone around, as was her right, and she knew who to start with.

Strolling over to Kat surrounded by her makeshift gang, Mary Catherine took the cigarette from the leather clad brat and stamped it on the ground.

“What the hell!” Kat cried.

“You and your little cohort here are going to scrub every floor of this place starting right now, understand?” Mary Catherine said looming over the pack, the majority of which fled. Kat and a few others remained, unwavering in their defiance and yet Mary Catherine could see something in Kat’s eyes, a crack in her armor.

“As if. Come on girls.” Kat said standing up and walking away obstinately with her friends in tow. Mary Catherine was angered but knew that something had happened last night, that Kat had lost some of her power. She also knew that she absorbed that power and so it as clear what she had to do next.

This time Mary Catherine did not creep into Kat’s room, but strolled in confidently. She was certain Kat would be passed out like last night because she had seen the young hellion sneak into the chapel and take the communion wine. Mary Catherine could have stopped her but knew letting Kat take it would only be to her advantage.

Standing over Kat, the Mother superior did not hesitate as she had done before and in fact positioned herself closer to the sleeping brat to absorb her essence quicker. Speaking the words aloud, Mary Catherine opened her mouth wide after her final word and tasted the sweet purple wisps as they slid down her throat.

Where the previous changes happened over night, new changes happened instantaneously to Mary Catherine’s body, spurred on by her own want. The last of her wrinkles disappeared as her skin grew soft and taut. Her hair lost all of its grey returning to her natural black but with stops of purple too and her breasts were now close to spilling out of her habit.

Her mind meanwhile never felt better, never felt more free. Kat’s rebellious and selfish mind was overriding most of the remaining kind thoughts that the Mother Superior had left.

Licking her lips she looked down at Kat with increasing disdain. She also revelled in seeing Kat’s younger good looks fade as her own appearance started to improve. Strolling over to the mirror Mary Catherine smirked at her new appearance but also at the feeling of strength she now felt coursing through her body.

“Mmmm yessss Kat’s strong resolve is much more suited in my body. It’s clear now that I was too weak before, too much of a pushover. With Kat’s attitude flowing through me I’ll finally have the respect I deserve.” Mary Catherine mused to herself in the mirror.

But something was seeming off about her whole look. Her old habit mixed with her now more youthful body made her appearance somewhat comical. She needed something more fitting her body. That’s when she spotted Kat’s ajar suitcase.

Opening it up hungrily, Mary Catherine was delighted to see such wickedly tight outfits inside. She ran her fingers over their shiny surface, imagining her new younger body slipping inside. Underneath the clothes were an assortment of sex toys and aids, including a leather whip.

The word whip repeated in her mind and made her remember her salacious dream from the previous night. Her pussy started to get wet at the thought of it. Her eyes wandered over to Kat’s sleeping body and she couldn’t help imagining the bitch strung up with a ball gag in her mouth. The Mother Superior had to drag herself out of the room for fear she might make her dream a reality, but she felt compelled to take the bag. That’s when she ran into Sister Helen again.

“I am SO SO sorry Mother Superior, I know you said before, oh my Sister, you look so young and beaut-” the nervous nun said with a mixture of fear and curiosity in her eyes but Mary Catherine cut her off.

“You insubordinate little maggot.” Mary Catherine said with venom in her words as a voice in her head urged her to punish sister Helen.

“You will be punished for this heinous infraction.” Mary Catherine said looming down on the young nun.

“Y-yes of course, I’ll clean whatever you want, I’ll say a thousand rosaries. I’ll do anything.” Helen said pleading. Mary Catherine stayed silent however, choosing to simply smile unnervingly at Helen and beckon the young nun to follow her.

Helen walked timidly into the Mother Superior’s bed chambers after Mary Catherine who had disappeared into her connected bathroom. Helen stood nervously, not wanting to touch anything for fear she would do something to anger the Mother Superior. However her nervousness only skyrocketed as Mary Catherine walked out of the bathroom in a most unexpected outfit.

Gone was her habit, replaced with tight black latex that showed off her impressive curves. What was most shocking was the item in the Mother Superior’s hand. While having zero experience with such things, Helen was sure that Mary Catherine was holding some sort of sex toy in her hand. It was a large almost wand like item that seemed to glow purple and hand a long length of leather attached. Helen shuddered to think what she had in mind for it.

“Undress. Now.” Mary Catherine said sternly.

“Mother Superior, I don’t think this is-” Helen began before Mary Catherine snapped back.

“That’s right you don’t think. You don’t think where you are going and you don’t pay attention to those that are more important around you. But that changes tonight. Now strip!” Mary Catherine said with malice. Helen obliged by slowly undressing.

Within a few minutes Helen was standing naked in front of the Mother Superior who eyed the girl up and down. Swinging her sex you she approached the nun until their faces were mere inches apart. Helen didn’t know until it was too late, but Mary Catherine did this to distract the young nun from the sudden insertion of the sex you into her pussy.

Helen gasped as the cold phallic object pushed deep into her vagina until with a pop her lips closed tightly around it. Helen couldn’t help but shivering in pleasure. She had never allowed even herself to delve so deep but the sex you felt as comfortable as a glove.

“Come here my pet.” Mary Catherine said as she walked a few feet away. Helen however stood still, still rather shocked by what was happening. Rolling her eyes the Mother Superior tugged on the leather lead and Helen was compelled forward. Each step hitting a different erogenous zone.

“Now my pet, I have enchanted this wonderful little device to slowly instill you with subservience to me the longer you wear it. I found it in this deliciously dark book of spells. I’m starting to think witches may have had the right idea. I’m telling you all this because you will, by now, be unable to fight the growing loyalty you feel towards me, isn’t that right?” Mary Catherine said with an evil smile.

Helen looked at the Mother Superior, her face conflicted. Inside her mind, a war was raging, one that the moral and just part of her was losing. She smiled at Mary Catherine and said, “Of course Mother Superior, I will do anything you ask.”

“Excellent, now get on all fours like the dog that you are, you are going to lick my new boots clean with that wretched tongue of yours.” Mary Catherine said looking at her new leashed companion with equal parts disgust and excitement.

The next day the convent was a buzz with word that the Mother Superior had gotten some sort of makeover. Gone were her sensible habits and elderly charm replaced with outfits that showed off her new youthful voluptuous figure paired with a distinctively cold demeanour.

Over the next week she seemed to pull up nuns for the smallest of infractions and banish them to her quarters where she would enter soon after. The nuns would then emerge changed, more docile, more loyal to the new Mother Superior. Weirder still was that the Mother Superior herself seemed different too. She would exit her room looking younger, hotter, and more confident.

Some of the nuns she reprimanded had become her enforcers, reporting infractions directly back to Mary Catherine. Enforcers like Sister Helen even started to dress and act like the Mother superior, copying her purple hair, wearing tight latex outfits. The convent was looking less like a place of worship for god each day and more like a cult of worship to one woman, Mary Catherine.

But despite her growing authority over the convent, Mary Catherine still felt a tug at her conscience, a little voice that nagged at her telling her what she was doing was wrong. She had only wanted to stop the spread of Kat’s influence over the other sisters and instead she had taken that influence and weaponized it for herself.

And yet she couldn’t deny the results. The sisters had never been in such revelry towards her. It was an intoxicating feeling having so many of them literally kiss her feet and praise the actions that she committed. Even when they were deplorable acts against themselves, they begged her for more. No Mary Catherine needed a change but not to her new outlook.

Walking confidently over to Kat’s bed chambers, the Mother Superior was done with hiding in the shadows and instead kicked the door down with her six inch heels waking Kat inside.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” Said an incredulous Kat but the Mother Superior just simply snapped her fingers and a swarm of her loyal supporters rushed in and held Kat down.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side since you arrived you little bitch, but if it were not for you then I wouldn’t have realized what power I was lacking. And now it’s time I take the last of that power from you.” Mary Catherine said with a disturbing smile as she produced her magical sex toy that she had used to build her growing army. Only this time there was a matching glowing plug on the other end as well.

Stilling up to Kat, she shoved one in into the rebel’s pussy and watched with joy as Kat’s eyes rolled back into her head. She had made the magic much more potent this time after all. Taking the other end she then delighted in slipping it into her own wet pussy. With a pop it found purchase nearly inside her and she grinned in satisfaction.

Happy that they were ready, Mary Catherine began chanting the Latin words she had memorized. As she did, the plugs deep inside her and Kat began to glow. Their two bodies became bright purple sources of light. So bright that the other nuns had to shield their eyes.

“Yessss! Yessss! Give me everything! Make me everything she was! Erase the last drop of good in me!” Mary Catherine yelled as the light filled the room.

Then just as quickly as the light had appeared, it disappeared with a whoosh. The nuns in the room all blinked and rubbed their eyes, trying to refocus their vision. Once they had they found only one figure remained where once there had been two.

Mary Catherine stood transformed before them. Everything about her was more emphasized than before. Her hair more purple, her tits bigger, her nails sharper, her face colder, and her power inarguabe. “Mother Superior are you ok? Are you hurt?” Helen asked concerned. Mary Catherine responded by grabbing Helen by her neck and lifting her effortlessly off of the ground.

“Never better. From this day forth you shall refer to me no longer as Mother Superior Mary Catherine, but instead as Goddess Katherine. Understood?” The new goddess commanded and the rest of the sisters all nodded and bowed in respect. Katherine looked at Helen and for a moment contemplated snapping her neck. The thought brought a wetness to her pussy that delighted her but she knew she would need Helen, at least for now and so let her down.

“Thank you Goddess for the pain, I do not deserve your touch.” Helen said sycophantically kneeling before her mistress. Katherine didn’t even pay her much attention and instead walked out of the room into the cool moonlight of the courtyard. She licked her lips as she looked at all the doors belonging to the nuns she had yet to ‘bless’.

“Come along sisters, we have much work to do.” She said with a wicked smile as she strode to the closest door, ready to convert another sister to her flock.

THE END

[taviamoth]

🟢 Senior Hamas leader Osama Hamdan at Hamas’ press conference today, March 5th 2024:

—

We are at the doors of the blessed month of Ramadan, and with this Nazi aggression against our people continuing for the 151st day, despite the scale of killing, massacres, and genocide, and the pain of displacement, hunger, and thirst, this Nazi enemy has not achieved any of its aggressive goals.

The image of the erosion of the defeated entity and its war pillars internally is increasingly deteriorating and growing, while the image of our people's steadfastness, patience, strength, and the bravery of our resistance is firm, rooted, and determined to be victorious.

We send our greetings, pride, and honor to our people in the Gaza Strip, who continue their legendary epic of patience and sacrifice. We also send peace and greetings to the victorious Al-Qassam Brigades, the fighting Saraya Al-Quds, and the men of the Palestinian resistance on the land of Gaza of glory, who continue with all strength, capability, will, and determination to forge a legacy of glory for our people and our nation.

The movement has worked seriously and persistently to reach an agreement to stop the aggression, intensify the entry of aid and relief, and return our people to the areas they were displaced from, especially in the north, and for the complete withdrawal of the occupation from the Gaza Strip.

Over the past two days, the movement's vision and stance on the proposal presented to us by our Egyptian and Qatari mediator brothers at the end of last week have been submitted. We affirmed our conditions for a ceasefire, complete withdrawal from the Strip, return of the displaced to their areas, especially to the north, and provision of adequate aid, relief, and reconstruction.

We dealt with the proposals of our brothers in Egypt and Qatar with a high spirit of positivity and flexibility at all stages of the negotiations. However, Netanyahu continues to evade and shirk his responsibilities before his public, for personal political calculations, revealing his fear and terror of his political future and the post-war stage.

We reaffirm that we will not allow the negotiation process to be open-ended with the continuation of the aggression and the war of starvation against our people, nor to serve as a cover for the continuation of more crimes against unarmed civilians, or to buy time to proceed with the genocide against our Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip.

Any prisoner exchange will not take place before securing all the conditions of the resistance, and negotiations will not continue without a prospect.

Any flexibility shown by the movement in the negotiation process to stop the zionist aggression, out of concern for our people's blood and their great sacrifices, is matched by a readiness and determination to continue all forms of struggle and resistance, in defense of our people, our land, our constants, and our sanctities, at the heart of which are Al-Quds and the blessed Al-Aqsa Mosque.

On the 151st day, the zionist war machine, supported by the U.S. administration, has not stopped committing genocide, ethnic cleansing, displacement, starvation, dehydration, and horrific massacres against unarmed civilians and innocents in the Gaza Strip.

All the slogans of humanity, freedom, and justice, which the U.S. administration, who is a partner with this occupation in its crimes and aggression against our people, sings about, have fallen. It has exposed all the hesitant and negligent positions on breaking the unjust siege on the Gaza Strip, relieving its people, healing their wounds, supporting their steadfastness, and putting an end to this continuous zionist crime and aggression.

The tragic situation experienced by the citizens and displaced people in all governorates of the Gaza Strip remains catastrophic and cannot be described or summarized in words.

Disease, hunger, and thirst are now claiming the lives of thousands of our people in the Gaza Strip daily, especially among children, women, and the elderly, as all hospitals are out of service, and sufficient relief and medical supplies fail to reach them.

We confirm to the zionists and the United States that what they failed to impose on the battlefield will not be taken through political machinations, no matter the forms of trickery and pressure they employ. This resistance will remain faithful to the sacrifices, keen on accumulating its outcomes and building upon them until the occupation is defeated.

The war of starvation waged by the occupation for more than five months, especially against civilians in the Gaza and Northern governorates, has forced citizens seeking sustenance for their children to risk their lives and fall into the killing traps set by the fascist occupation.

The complete cutoff of water in the Gaza and Northern governorates increases the suffering of citizens from thirst, due to the unavailability of drinking water and the lack of even non-potable water, due to the occupation's continuous bombing of wells and water stations, and the absence of fuel needed for water extraction.

The continuation of the occupation's war of starvation against our people, targeting aid convoys, and committing massacres against the citizens gathered around them, is a clear insistence by this criminal entity to proceed with the war of genocide and ethnic cleansing, a blatant challenge and disregard for all international laws and humanitarian norms, and for the resolutions of the International Court of Justice.

The occupation at the Al-Nablusi roundabout, which claimed 118 martyrs and hundreds of wounded, who gathered at dawn in anticipation of securing sustenance for hungry children, only to be shot down by the bullets and shells of the Nazi occupation army's vehicles, in a savage crime that is shamefully horrific, followed by a brazen zionist narrative of what happened, disclaiming the crime with utmost arrogance and disdain.

The statement issued by the United Nations Security Council, which was subjected to American pressures and amendments, to finally express "concern" about Al-Nablusi massacre, does not rise up to the level of the crime, and proves once again the impotence that has struck the most important tool of international security in the face of the genocide against our people in the Gaza Strip.

The aid that has been airdropped from several countries is appreciated, but it only meets a tiny fraction of the needs of the people amid the catastrophe in Gaza.

We call on all countries and governments that support the rights of our people and their just cause to find more effective ways to deliver aid, emphasizing the need to open the crossings for its entry by land, to ensure its safe and orderly arrival to its beneficiaries, and to maintain the dignity of Palestinian citizens, with a focus on delivering it to the north where famine is worsening.

The U.S. administration and President Biden personally remain a full partner with the zionist occupation in the genocide our people in the Gaza Strip are subjected to, bearing political, legal, moral, and humanitarian responsibility for the outcomes and repercussions of this aggression. Dropping some relief aid will not cleanse their image stained with the blood of our people.

We say to Biden and the U.S. administration: The most important thing is to stop supplying the Nazi zionist army with weapons, shells, and missiles that rain down on our unarmed people..and that you stop raising your hands to use your veto in the face of the entire world...to give the occupation cover to continue the genocidal crimes against our people.

We call on our Arab and Islamic countries to take practical and serious action to stop the genocide our people are subjected to, and to work seriously on the immediate implementation of the decision of the Arab Islamic summit on November 11 of last year, which emphasized breaking the zionist siege.

We call on the peoples of our Arab and Islamic nation to continue all forms of solidarity, support, and backing for the Palestinian people and our people in the Gaza Strip, and to continue to go out in wide public activities and demonstrations condemning the crimes of the occupation and its aggression, and pressuring governments to take effective and strong positions against the entity.

We renew the call to the peoples of our nation through which the food convoys to the zionist entity pass, to immediately act to prevent their passage, as the minimal form of solidarity with Gaza is to make the criminal realize the dire consequences of his siege on our people.

We call on the international community to effectively press for the full opening of the crossings, end the siege, and allow the entry of aid convoys in sufficient quantities to all areas of the Gaza Strip, especially to Gaza and North Gaza governorates, ensuring these aids reach our besieged people and end their humanitarian suffering.

We demand the activation of the role of international relief institutions, especially UNRWA, to facilitate and organize the entry and distribution of aid, in a way that preserves the dignity of our people.

We call on all governments and institutions in our Arab Islamic nation to use the blessed month of Ramadan as an opportunity to seriously work and press by all means to establish land, sea, and air bridges, and introduce relief aid and field hospitals to all areas of the Gaza Strip, to prevent the continuation of the war of starvation and genocide against more than two million Palestinians.

During the month of Ramadan, we call for intensifying all forms of financial, moral, humanitarian, and charitable support to heal the wounds of our people in the Gaza Strip, support families, the sick, and the wounded, and adopt charitable projects that support their steadfastness in the face of zionist aggression.

We call on all Arab Islamic governments and institutions during the month of Ramadan to work towards partnering in supporting the resistance in Gaza, just as the resistance and fighters in Lebanon, Yemen, and Iraq are doing.

[via RNN]

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

PADMÉ AMIDALA can't help herself. She's truly tried. Known as a pillar of resolution and patience, she cannot deny her desires any longer. As her husband, ANAKIN SKYWALKER, softly snores in the sanctity of their bed. He trusts her, trusts her enough to share his most intimate secrets, and most sacred body parts whenever she so pleases to have them.

Much to his dismay, she constantly refuses the offer, as if she would be taking advantage of him while he's unconscious, instead of seeing it how it is. He's given her permission to freely use him, no matter the time or place. The ache between her legs is too great, and she scales her mental obstacle. Nimble fingers graze his hot skin, watching him shudder as the night air hits him while his covers slide down his form. Hiking up her nightgown, she mounts him, gently rocking her naked sex over the mound in his thin black pants. Flaccid and at the ready to bend to her whims, it hardens quick from her recognizable ministrations.

A delicate crease appears on his strong brows, and it urges her to kiss them out of endearment. When his hips instinctively lift to meet hers, she seizes the opportunity to free him from the confines of his pants. His eager length springing out, enthusiastically greeting her, brings a kind smile to her face. Her hand comes to cradle it, sweetly massaging his swollen head until his parted lips release breathy and stuttering noises, intensifying when she invites herself onto him. Her wet heat slides down every inch, enveloping him in pleasurable comfort so deep he stirs from his slumber. It's not often he sleeps through anything, and his wife's quiet prowess to keep him complacent as she maneuvered him into appropriate positioning surprises him.

"Is my little wife so needy?"

[darklyndivinely]

I punctured the abscess through abandonment

Fandom - Obey Me!

Pairing - Lucifer x Diavolo

Summary - "Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time."

Warnings - SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, fluff, copious amounts of random shit.

Wordcount - 5k+

A/N - title from the english translation of this song. I've been working on this for ages. Dialuci is so exciting to me, the angst potential is endless. I hope it comes through here, because it's important to remember: for Lucifer, his family is above all, even his own happiness. Please do comment and tell me what y'all thought!!

Here's a beautiful rendition of the last scene done by @pseudonymphomania.

Read on AO3 • OM!Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Lucifer! Masterlist

It’s one of those days.

Black rain pours over Devildom. The sky, a churning thing of anger, had cracked open yesterday as he had succumbed to sleep. Some fourteen hours later, it was still in mourning.

Lucifer doesn’t mind.

Such forceful displays of nature, he’s found, cast a film of translucent languor over everything. His mind which is usually stretched thin with a million worries folds upon itself, over and over, until it occupies but a little square of space. All that exists then is the stubborn rain, the wailing of trees as they bow to the angry winds, and the soft ticks of his table clock.

Lucifer presses his forehead to the chilled glass of one of the windows. In and out, he breathes, his eyes shut and mind blank. A repose of quietude. He savours it, trying to document all the ridges of the calmness in his body, knowing that when it leaves, its departure will be long and hard to bear.

There’s a council meeting scheduled at four. He departs for it slowly, knowing that it won’t start till four twenty because tardiness is a vicious illness that his brothers have never been able to defeat. True to form, the last to arrive, Satan and Asmo, twelve minutes late, cite some ineludible mishap in the library. For a second Lucifer considers chiding them, becoming caught up in old habits, before reason returns and he puts halt to the achingly familiar words halfway up his throat. He knows if they escape today the sanctity of this beautiful day would become lost to him. So he gulps down a glass of cold water instead and lets it go.

“Where’s Mammon?” asks Asmo as he settles, eyes drawn to the only vacant seat now.

Mammon hadn’t been present for breakfast either. Lucifer had assumed he’d been summoned by his witches again. “He’ll be caught up. Let us begin now.”

For the next two hours, they discuss the many matters of importance around RAD. Vacant staff positions, complaints against faculty members, how to budget the million year-round events without compromising quality, and ideas for new events as well. Around the ninety-minute mark, the agenda gets lost somewhere within the frothing depths of the river Styx.

Between “A food contest where the winner cooks for me for the rest of their life,” and, “A fashion show where everyone writes a five-hundred word essay about my beauty and throws bouquets of pretty—” and Leviathan’s separate ongoing detailed verbal presentation about the cultural significance of some film adaptation of a novel that he believes all of RAD should come together and watch, Lucifer finds himself feeling some deep, ancient rot taking hold of his brain.

Diavolo’s well of patience, as it turns out, is infinite. His countenance is kind and sympathetic. 

Lucifer’s is not. 

He ends the meeting, his fist bunched around an eraser, barely holding himself back from lobbing it straight down Leviathan’s throat, and sends them all packing.

“Back by 11,” he says, easing back in his chair, “or Cerberus has free reign of your room.”

Diavolo chuckles beside him, refreshing their glasses with water. An easy smile slides onto his lips as the room empties. “Barbatos called,” he says, waving the doors shut with a flick of the wrist.

Lucifer hums, wiping the condensation off his glass and presses it to his temple, some of this morning’s calmness returning to him. “Contracts?”

“No, not yet. He’s happened upon Mammon’s witches. They run a bar in a nearby town that daylights as their hideout. Wonderful spot apparently; excellent mingling of the ley lines.”

“Was he there?”

Diavolo takes a sip of his water, shaking his head. “At a bar, five blocks over. Drunk as a fiddle.”

“Naturally.” Lucifer sighs, feeling the sudden urge to bang his head against a solid surface, preferably the sturdy pine table beneath him. “I apologise for his behaviour. Is Barbatos to return then?”

Diavolo’s lips quirk in a half-smirk, one Lucifer has learned follows a particularly amusing thought. “No. He insisted on staying to keep an eye out. He’ll ring in when Mammon departs for home.”

“Good,” he replies. “I will look over today’s notes and we’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Diavolo nods, a sudden shine to his supermoon eyes. “Tomorrow then. Have a good night, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tips his head and says, “Goodnight, Diavolo.”

Mammon returns at half-past three that night, slipping through the garage doors straight into his room. Lucifer snaps his novel shut, does a last check on the barrier, and clocks out.

He’s awoken the next morning by a great racket of noise. He’s barely pulled his other pillow over his ears, the fear that the lot may have started a fire in the stove again being swept under the heaviness of slipping dreams, before there is a strong panicked rapping against his door and his sleep takes departure like a startled flock of ravens. He presses a prolonged expletive into his pillowcase and gets up.

Turns out, he’d missed breakfast. And when Asmo had gone to store the leftovers he’d discovered that the fridge wasn’t cooling anymore. Of course, in true menace behaviour, he’d complained about it loudly first before waking Lucifer up. So now Lucifer’s got a panicked Beel on his hands who is now worried for his recently bought cupcakes.

“They’re Madam Scream’s’, Lucifer! Poisoned hellberries and roasted creme! They won’t last two hours in this humidity. You have to do something!”

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose and sends the younger to heat all the leftovers in the oven. Is that working or does that also need a mass panic? Then he heads to his room for his phone and makes a call to Electric Demon, scheduling a home visit within the next hour. A shower sounds tempting but the food would go cold again, and Lucifer is a firm believer that heating leftovers more than once is a crime against one’s taste buds. He does his morning routine sans a shower and changes into a plain blue t-shirt and track pants.

Beel doesn’t seem sufficiently satisfied when Lucifer tells him that a technician is on his way. He stands awkwardly by the fridge in the kitchen, a cupcake box in hand and a frown on his face. Lucifer watches him from the dining table for a while, then, fed up, says, “Just open it already!”

Beel startles, turning to look at him. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! Open it or I’ll open it for you!”

Beel’s frown deepens. But he comes to sit at the dining table and begins to bite into his cupcakes with a focus that is perhaps a bit too much than the task demands. It’s all kind of adorable though and it eases a bit of Lucifer’s annoyance at the day’s bad start.

“Did Mammon come down for breakfast today?”

Beel shakes his head. He looks up suddenly, mouth full, his tangerine eyes fixing on Lucifer’s as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. Then looking as if in extreme pain, he slides the cupcake box towards Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckles and considers pretending to pluck one just for the fun of it all. He would have any other day, but he doesn’t. Not today. He slides the box back with a polite decline. Beel passes him a smile and digs into his food with more fervour. Lucifer resists the urge to ruffle his hair and leaves him to his sweets.

In the kitchen, Lucifer plates all the leftover food and casts a mild heating spell upon it. He takes it upstairs to Mammon’s room. It’s messy as always: clothes flung around, shoes discarded at the bottom of the staircase. Lucifer leaves the plate on the centre table. Mammon is sprawled on the bed in his briefs, his jeans a dark tangle on the floor. Beside it, there’s a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Lucifer toes at it, grimacing, knowing without a look that it’s one of those cheap, low-quality soft-packs. Standards were truly becoming non-existent nowadays.

The doorbell rings downstairs.

“Lucifer!” Beel shouts.

He sighs. I’ll check in later, he vows, heading off.

Later, however, doesn’t roll around until late that evening. Diavolo calls him up after the technician leaves.

“When are you coming over?” the prince says, straight to the point.

Lucifer considers his options. He could postpone, spend a lazy Sunday in the library and practise a tune or two at the piano. There’d be stacks of papers on his table tomorrow anyway, they’ll stay late at RAD and squeezing in their discussion wouldn’t be too big a hassle. However, it’s a nice day off and the prospect of being holed up in the library doesn’t seem so appealing anymore. He would much rather chase a pair of golden eyes.

“Soon,” Lucifer says.

“I just got a great idea for Barbatos’ gift,” Diavolo says the second Lucifer is within his sight. The prince is clad in a tight black t-shirt and loose grey pyjama with a pot of tea in his hands. Lucifer hums and takes a seat at the dining table, setting the file he’d brought over at the corner. Diavolo pours the tea into two cups. A subtle earthy smell wafts up in the steam. Fireweed, Lucifer recognizes. One of Barbatos’ own creations. He’d probably left a bunch of it behind for Diavolo to peruse.

“How many cups of this are you drinking a day?” Lucifer asks, taking a sip.

Diavolo’s forehead scrunches with a whine and he slumps into his seat. “Too much! I’m afraid I might be addicted at this point.”

Lucifer smiles around his cup. Trust Diavolo to become addicted to tea. “What is this idea then?”

The prince perks up and sets his cup down neatly. He takes out a small, brown drawstring pouch from his pocket. “Do you remember Ring 3’s Great Purge?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. Nearly a million casualties.”

“Yes, that. There was a witch then, injured and hanging onto life in the Abyss by a single tree branch. I saved her and in return she gave me this pouch. Rare seeds of a flower that grows beneath the deep depths of the seas, she’d said.”

Diavolo spills the seeds onto his palms. Brown and dry. Entirely unremarkable.

“They might grow here,” he says, rifling the seeds gently with a finger. “And if not then perhaps they might blossom in the greenhouse, in a more controlled environment.”

“The Abyss is quite far away from the stadium. What was she doing there?”

“She wasn’t there for the tournament. She’d snuck in.” Diavolo pours the seeds back into the pouch and draws it shut. “Her niece had married a vampire from Ring 3 and was being abused. She wanted to rescue her. A very messy business, really.”

“Did she succeed?”

“He was rich, she was not. But yes. After a long court case. I delivered the judgement myself.”

Lucifer watches him, sipping at his tea. “It is a good gift, indeed.”

Diavolo smiles at him, a soft steady thing that makes Lucifer’s chest tighten. “What about you? What are you giving him?”

“I do not know.” Lucifer hadn’t even thought of it yet. “Any suggestions?”

Diavolo looks thoughtful, sipping solemnly at his tea. “Music, perhaps. He’s been in a slump lately. I haven’t seen him with headphones in a while.”

Lucifer hums. “Has he found the man yet?”

“Yesterday. But he’s demanded a day to think it over.”

“I highly doubt he’d be willing to forfeit his life when the alternative is so beneficial.”

“Beneficial!” Diavolo laughs sharply. “I plan to wring him dry to the bones.”

Lucifer smirks. “I would hope so.”

Diavolo eyes the file Lucifer had brought over. He stretches a hand to slide it closer and flips it open. “What have you decided?”

“Art and Psychology clubs,” Lucifer says. “Negligible dent in the budget.”

“A new hire?” Diavolo reads off the file.

“Part-time, but someone passionate and willing. I was hoping the Art club might focus more on polishing rather than teaching.”

“Hmm.” Diavolo closes the file and stands. “I will read it later. Are you perhaps done with that?” he asks, eyeing Lucifer’s cup. “I’m all stiff from sitting here.”

Lucifer gulps down the last of his cold tea and follows suit. He collects their cups and the pot, sets them in the sink and washes his hands. When he turns Diavolo is halfway across the kitchen, and he gestures at Lucifer to follow.

Diavolo’s room is halfway across the castle, obscured by the many turns into many indistinguishable hallways leading to it. The prince walks five steps ahead of him. Lucifer doesn’t bother to catch up. The length of the journey seems entirely too short for the view his position grants him. Then another turn and the sight of the familiar room.

The moment Lucifer has crossed the threshold, Diavolo is on him. There are two soft clicks behind him. A sudden arm around his waist and a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Diavolo presses him backwards into the now-closed door and melds their mouths together.

“I missed you,” Diavolo whispers against his lips.

Lucifer tightens his grip around Diavolo’s nape, the tightness in his chest dissolving in a sudden surge, and pulls the man into a feverish, bruising kiss. Diavolo moans into his mouth, a soft, needy sound, and presses even closer. He rucks up the back of Lucifer’s shirt. His fingers as they press into the small of Lucifer’s back are warm from the tea. The shape of his hand, his arm, his hips as they grind against Lucifer’s, their lips pressed together and Diavolo’s tongue licking into his mouth. It all seems so deliberate, so calculated—as if Lucifer’s body had been given shape with Diavolo in mind. It leaves him breathless and gasping, unmoored and full of want.

He pushes off of the door, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Diavolo’s mouth exactly the way he likes, and manoeuvres their entangled figures backwards. When he pushes him onto the bed the prince goes easily, pliable with desire, heaving, golden laser eyes set upon him. Lucifer climbs on top of him. He traces a light touch up the side of Diavolo’s hips, over his pants, along the hem of the shirt, closer, closer. Diavolo’s breath quickens, his fingers digging into the mattress. Lucifer presses the heel of his hand against Diavolo’s crotch. The prince arches off the bed. Lucifer smirks.

He leaves late that evening. There’s a burn to his body that leaves a delicate trilling in his chest. He hugs Diavolo goodbye at the gate, presses his nose into his hair and breathes. Dangerous, a grainy echo in the back of his mind says. But his brain is addled, his body loose, with moonshine sheltering them from reality under her silver cape. Diavolo cradles his face between his hands and kisses him softly. Neither of them says anything.

The whole family is sprawled around the TV when he gets back. Mammon sits on the floor with a blushing Beel, teasing him about some tasty flying burger. He looks up as Lucifer walks in.

“Do you have a headache?” Lucifer pulls out the painkiller he’d picked up at the castle. “Take this.”

“Wha—I don’t have a headache.”

“Take it. Now.” On the table, there is a half-empty bottle of cola and several glasses. Lucifer picks up the closest to Mammon’s. “Is this yours?” 

Mammon nods, looking fed-up, and takes the glass from his hands. Lucifer watches him swallow the pill then nods. “Who’s making dinner?”

“I am,” Satan says, cracking his neck and getting up. “Levi, you have this downloaded, right? Send it to me, I’ll finish it later.”

“Do you need any help?” Lucifer asks.

“No!” Satan shoots him a disgusted look and hurries away to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Lucifer smothers a smile. The film playing on the tv is strange. A donut-shaped black hole and googly eyes to the rescue. A little intrigued, Lucifer watches for a while, unable to let go of his want for a shower to properly take a seat. Nobody asks him where he’s been. It’s not like he ever answers when it’s those days with Diavolo. 

Then, naturally, Asmo walks in. His hair is wet, there’s a sheen to his skin, and he brings in the scent of strawberry body wash with himself. Appearing a little distracted with his mildly uncooperating hair he’s halfway into the room before he catches sight of Lucifer. He stops short then, his champagne eyes connecting with Lucifer’s. He tracks a slow look over the length of Lucifer’s form. A queer leer overcomes his eyes. Lucifer’s mood plummets.

“Hello, Lucifer…” Asmo coos, uncooperating hair forgotten now. “What naughty things have you been upto today, hmm?”

Acid froths in Lucifer’s stomach. Scorpions. Lucifer will have scorpions dig out all of Asmo’s hair, strand by strand by strand. And then he will set that fucking strawberry body wash on fire. Recognising a losing battle when he sees one, though, Lucifer shoulders past the younger to his room, even though the action almost brings him physical pain. His ears ring and there’s a stubborn itch to his hands. It’s only the thought of a familiar pair of lips on his neck that placates his more murderous desires. Still, scorpions and the death of many fruit-flavoured body washes.

The rain dries up. Time resumes its steady pace. Three weeks pass. Lucifer spends his days at RAD; most nights in his room on video calls with Diavolo doing paperwork. Asmo doesn’t do more than trail conspicuous looks over him on Sunday evenings after Lucifer had pulled him aside the first week and growled his serious scorpion-related threat into his face.

On Saturdays, he coerces the whole family into an outing together. First week it’s a museum (Satan), second it’s a Starlets Heart concert (Levi), third it’s a new Sushi restaurant downtown (Beel). Two days before the fourth Saturday, the house bill arrives, falling a wide margin below the budget. In a good mood, he takes them to a flea market and lets them loose. They come back heaving bags of books, two dozen DVDs and cassettes, a carefully wrapped artisan table lamp, and many small plastic bags of poison noodles that Lucifer swears he wouldn’t touch if House of Lamentation’s roof itself were crashing down upon him.

On his part, he buys a shimmering golden keychain of a cat for Mammon. He spots another in green and buys that for Satan. Most of his time, however, is spent at the vinyl shop thumbing through their metal collection. 

“Something less known,” he tells the shopkeeper, “and heavy, if you will.” 

The man plucks forth many, first from the newer section then older, but none feel right. The gut feeling that he gets, that tilting sensation in his stomach at the precise pick remains absent. He pays for a collection of classical sitar pieces and a pop one that Asmo swears an oath for on his “beautiful and lustrous hair that demons kill for”.

“If I end up disliking it, I’ll cut two centimetres off of them then.”

Asmo gasps. He touches his hand to his chest in faux outrage and scurries off. Lucifer laughs and follows. On the way back, they stop the car at AkuDonald’s and get takeout. Then ditch the plan to eat at home when Beel breaks and starts breezing through his dozen burgers with big bites. He tells Mammon to park beside a decent food truck. They order more food for Beel, open the doors, switch on the light and eat in the car. Like a big chaotic family. Levi drops a couple drops of his drink on the seat. Mammon complains his head off. It’s nice. He hopes they do this again sometime.

Later at night, after he’s sure all of them have fallen asleep, he sneaks out to meet Diavolo at the castle. For a second he freezes, puzzled at his own actions. Sneaking out of his own house in the middle of the night like some lowly thief, is that what he’d come to now? But then he drops down onto the castle grounds, Diavolo catches sight of him through the kitchen window, and his eyes light up with sunshine. He presses a long kiss to Lucifer’s lips when they meet. All the embarrassment in the world then seems worth it in the face of such beauty.

They set up the record player in the living room and sprawl on the sofa with glasses of ice-cold hellberry Demonus. Asmo’s album ends up being a hit. Diavolo laughs when Lucifer pretends to pout about his missed opportunity at playing barber. For the last song, a gentle and sombre tune, Diavolo pulls him upright and insists they dance.

“Are you mad?” Lucifer asks rhetorically. Drunk and mobile was not a good combination, not even in the face of such good music.

“Come on,” Dia pleads. “For me?” 

His eyes are pools of drunken affection, his lips flushed from the Demonus. Lucifer melts. He pulls him closer and spins their entwined figures around the furniture. Diavolo presses a kiss to the side of his jugular and rests his forehead on his shoulder.

I love you.

The thought is soft, akin to the whisper of rain that mists the winds at the dawn of monsoon. A tide—lapping, curling, rising, sinking. It flows over him, instilling a slow, deep shock onto him. Love? But—

Diavolo raises his head. His eyes are kaleidoscopes of black and gold. His carmine hair, a riot on his head. He nudges their foreheads together, a loose smile on his lips. They continue to sway to the music.

The long notes of the violin, the delicate tinkling of the ganzá, the shrill and strong vocals of the choir. The music soothes the anxiety that Lucifer might have experienced if the revelation had come to him in private. Here, with candlelight casting darkness into the slopes of Diavolo’s face, their bodies pressed together, hearts and feet in sync, the thrum of Demonus in his veins loosening the bolts of the closed doors of his heart, Lucifer could almost give name to the feeling that scented the air around them.

Like home had inhabited a body and become a person.

Like he might have fallen in love.

Lucifer’s eyesight blurs. He tightens his hold around Diavolo’s waist.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Black moon Halloween, Diavolo’s birthday, some couple hundred years ago now, he’d gotten drunk. The alcohol had always flowed without inhibitions, but that day Lucifer had indulged without restraint. Why he had done so he struggled to remember now. The prince had booked the whole club for a more private celebration. That was the first time they’d danced together, to some pop-rock song that had come up and Lucifer had been too intoxicated to remember to keep his personal interests to himself. 

“I like this,” he remembered saying.

Diavolo had immediately suggested dancing, perhaps excited to see him excited, and Lucifer had agreed without hesitation, already up and moving. The lights had been dim, navy blue and familiar. There was a moment, a still of the night in his mind, of Diavolo with flashing blue on his skin, eyes bright with joy, smile so wide and toothed Lucifer had been left utterly mesmerised. Golden.

You absolute fucki—

Diavolo presses a kiss to his lips. His thumb rubs indiscernible circles over the exposed skin of his forearm. Lucifer’s thoughts trip. The music has stopped. Silence reigns. The low crackle of the fire is barely audible. They are still wrapped up together. Reality is starting to loom over Lucifer, his heartbeat rising in his chest. Diavolo stares at him with hooded eyes, more smart than anyone ever gives him credit for. Seeking, searching, asking.

He should have known that this beautiful man who loved waking up at pretentious hours to go jogging and got excited at the prospect of paintball would be the one Lucifer would end up surrendering his heart to. He should have fucking known.

Lucifer tilts his chin and kisses him, gentle and unhurried. He pours into it all his emotions, nameless and gargantuan, trying to spell all the words that never make it past his throat. There’s always so many of them.

Diavolo smiles against his lips. He whispers something but Lucifer doesn’t catch it. He’s busy tracing the incline of the other’s cheekbones with his fingers, the flesh of his cheek, the curve of his ears, the sharp of his jawline. There’s an urgent need budding inside him, to savour, to consume, to take and perhaps, perhaps keep as well. It slithers through his body, golden and ablaze, and takes root somewhere deep, deep within him. Dia kisses him greedily, reflecting and reciprocating tenfold. His hands, looped around Lucifer’s waist, slide lower to cup his arse and grind their hips together. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer gasps against Diavolo’s grinning mouth.

They stumble over the little side table and fall onto the sofa. There are strings of saliva between their lips, teeth clacking, nails scraping against scalps.

Lucifer tears his hands through Diavolo’s tight shirt and presses his lips to the feverish skin. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Lucifer wants to fuse into him; crack his skin and bathe in him; meld their souls and mouths together for eternity. He wants to reach out, beyond skin and sinew, and press his lips straight to his heart.

He pulls him closer then; infinitely, impossibly closer. If he didn’t, he might disappear, his prince, his home. Like Lilith did, for forever.

Hold him, the deep grief in his body sings, tender and mournful like moonlight as he makes love to his prince, as long as your touch doesn’t scar him. Like it has everything else.

It is late morning when Lucifer awakes. The air is scented with hell jasmine and grapefruit. Diavolo lays asleep beside him on his stomach, a curved elbow obscuring half his face. Lucifer watches him, the red of his hair against the dark covers, the folds of skin at his neck, the gold-tipped horns, and the folded-back wings.

They’d never fucked through the night before. Even on days when they lost track of time, Lucifer would always leave. But last night something tangible had been shattered. A thread that he had been holding onto so desperately had slipped from his grip. The thought of leaving had never occurred to him during the entirety of yesternight. All he’d wanted was to touch Diavolo and employ his mouth over every dip and rise of his body. He’d wanted to feel him and breathe him and hear his own name slip from his swollen lips like fog in winters. He had scooped himself hollow and poured it over the other’s body.

Diavolo’s eyes flutter once, twice, then peel open, golden and hazy, a thousand miles away yet so near.

They hadn’t just fucked last night. They had made love.

Now as Lucifer watches the sleep desert Diavolo’s eyes slowly, a sour, putrid feeling corrugates in his gut. What had he done? He knew better than this; knew better than to hope for a happy ending. The arrows of grief hope hid underneath its veil, he knew them intimately. What could he say?

Today as you look at me with eyes warm and gentle, all I can give thought to is the control you possess over me. My sister was murdered and I’m bound to you for eternity. I feel infinitely more myself with you. Do you love me because you can control me or is this connection between us real? Your presence stabilises my being. I’ve known you for so long now but my wounds have never healed. I love you. I fear the power you possess over my family.

Lucifer stumbles out of bed. His vision swims. His heart beats deafeningly in his ears. The air tastes like torn-up soil and rotten feathers. There’s a moon over his head and his sister’s blood is on his hands. He reaches out to grasp the armrest of the sofa, steadies himself. Chesterfield. Striped. His hands will leave behind a bloody imprint on it. One more thing he’s ruined now. One more apology to make. One more guilt to carry. Breathe. His eyes open. He’s naked. Disgust makes his knees shake.

A warm hand settles over his spine. Lucifer flinches away. Diavolo freezes. “Don’t!” Lucifer growls out, his throat aching. Hollow eyes. Beautiful; dying. She’s choking on blood. What have you done? He has to save her, he has to protect—

“Lucifer, what’s wrong? Where are you—”

He stomps his way out. Every step makes his body quiver; a barbed knot in his sternum that paints his insides charcoal. It is only his memory and sense of direction that leads him to the living room. Their clothes are strewn around from last night. Lucifer switches into his human form and dons his. After a moment, Diavolo pads in behind him, dressed in plain white briefs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” Lucifer says, slipping into his shoes and zipping up his pants.

Diavolo clasps onto his arm. “What is it? Was it something I did? Or said? Tell me, Lucifer!”

Lucifer looks at him. There is puffiness beneath the other’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before. By the bridge of his nose, there is a tiny spot, a budding pimple. On his jaw, Lucifer can see the traces of slight stubble. All he wants at that moment is to kiss him.

“We won’t be seeing each other again,” he says, holding eyes with the prince.

A crack appears across Diavolo’s face. He’s so clever, so magnificent. Better than the most soothing symphonies and stronger than the hardest of rains. Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time. Diavolo searches his face, his beautiful eyes fraught with despair, glistening. “I thought you wanted this,” he says.

Lucifer pulls away, his heart breaking. “I thought so too.”

Diavolo doesn’t stop him again.

Lucifer leaves.

[forevergreenwithenvy]

i crush the flower in my hand

everything i do is for you, it’s something my mother always says

and everything you adore about me i loathe, it’s something i’m always reminded of

i’m your perfect doll,

you dress me up and brush my hair free of knots

and even when i grow up, you’ll still feel entitled to the sanctity of my body

but my body is rotting, succumbing to its several hereditary maladies

i’m warning you, don’t test my patience

it’s wearing thin

i swim to where the water is the darkest

floating on my back in the pool, drowning out the noise of the corporal

it’s the first time i feel free, far away from the illusion of the harsh grasp around my wrist

subconsciously pulling myself underwater

mother, what does green represent outside of envy?

if it’s illness, then i must be the same shade as the summer forest

once in a lifetime,

something good can come from two evils

sons aren’t their fathers but they want to be

your old man is not someone you should idolize, wrath never fit you like it did him

it’s not our fault we come from a lineage of wife beaters and madwomen

i’m your perfect doll,

with a few screws loose

cursed to retch every time i feel loved,

it’s the carnal desire to ruin driving me insane

i retell the past like it’s fiction, no wonder i’m never believed

the ungrateful heir, her unhinged sister and rogue brothers

mother, your doll wants to drown herself

father, i never learned anything from your many mistakes

our hearts beat in tandem, our blood runs as cold as our skin

stranger, tell me if you can understand my deranged speech

green with illness,

i’m one with the forest, wild and ferocious

[bakuliwrites]

Video Game Fanfiction Table of Contents

Disclaimer: 18+, Minors DNI!!!!!!

Baldur's Gate 3

Just to Be Held (M): Astarion x Tav, His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away? Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Tumblr, AO3

The Elder Scrolls

Devotion (18+): Cicero x Listener, He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again. Cicero is unsure of this new Listener, but his feelings are muddled and confusing. What will happen when the Listener is forced to choose to take or spare his life? Tumblr, AO3.

Legend of Zelda

Ebb and Flow (18+): Prince Sidon x Reader, “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep? Tumblr, AO3.

Stardew Valley

Love Letters (18+): Elliott x Reader, My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement. Elliott returns home from his book tour and the Farmer has a sultry surprise for him. Tumblr, AO3.

Dark Souls

Lunar Halo (18+): Gwyndolin x OC, Gods do not require witnesses. So in the sanctity of the Holy Church of Anor Londo, Gwyndolin weds a mortal woman, a marriage that takes place with sightless statues and eyeless stained glass figures for guests. Veiled by cloth woven of moonlight, Gwyndolin guides his Beloved Star to the altar. Her robes are redolent of the night that enshrouds the earth, glimmering diamonds and sweeping swathes of indigo pooling around her feet as she glides up the aisle. Iridescent moonstone enamels her hand and with the promise of fealty, of love for eternity, the Dark Sun is wed. And a mortal has been anointed his wife. A tale of how the Dark Sun came to love a woman born of the Dark Soul. AO3

Fire Emblem

Restless (18+): Xander x F!Reader, As leader of the combined Hoshidan and Nohrian armies, you find yourself growing restless one night, plagued with troubling thoughts. You decide some fresh air and quiet reflection under the stars might do you some good; but, you run into Xander, also lost in thought, and decide to spend some time together. AO3

Slip Away (18+): Xander x Gender-Neutral Reader, Xander finds himself unable to unwind at his birthday party, until a certain someone whisks him away. Tumblr, AO3

To Walk a Path of Light (M): Jeritza von Hrym x GN!Byleth, Jeritza’s desire for Byleth was sparked long before the goddess had even conceived of either of their forms. Their fates have always been intertwined... Long after the war has ended, Jeritza seeks out a familiar face, while the Death Knight seeks a battle. Tumblr, AO3

Gentle (18+): Jeritza Von Hrym x OC, "She is soft. And in her softness, she dissolves whatever sharpness, whatever edge I have. In perfumed sheets and gilded sunlight, I am, for a moment, vulnerable. My gentility clambers out from where it's been buried deep for so many years. The Death Knight dies in her embrace, and from him blooms a new creature." Jeritza finds himself drawn to one of Garreg Mach's newest professors. Tumblr: Chapter 1, AO3

[mostlymaudlin]

andrew and neil ride a roller coaster

OH BOY i have a whole wip brewing that's like a study of andrew's fear of heights so this has my thoughts reeling in like the least-funny directions 😂 but wait hmmmm i can do it i can find the crack!!! or maybe just random kidfic? anyway:

there's something to be said about people's desperation to not repeat the mistakes of their parents. andrew, who justifiably has many opinions on how adults should treat children, can acknowledge that this is a noble pursuit.

however: aaron's children are fucking spoiled.

emily, still recovering from a fried dough-related meltdown, is relatively quiet now that neil has picked her up and allowed her to hide her face in his neck. she's really getting too big for this behavior, but again: spoiled. aaron's other gremlin is gripping andrew's hand with the strength of a professional athlete as she guides them through the crowded fairground.

this whole thing is neil's fault. andrew isn't sure what kind of deal he and aaron have made this time, but it involved babysitting for the long weekend while aaron and katelyn take a vacation. this alone? not a big deal. but katelyn had apparently promised to take the twins to the fair this weekend, and neil's commitment to the bit means the four of them are here: sunburned and sweat-sticky in this dusty wasteland of cow poop, rickety rides, and the unrelenting cheer of carnival music.

"three tickets each," fiona reads proudly, pointing to the ride that she has led them to. fiona is unruffled by the crowds or the sun that has turned her cheeks pink despite the layers of sunscreen they have lathered on her all day. "three tickets for me and three tickets for you," she says to andrew.

she holds her free hand up to neil, today's ticketholder. palm up, expectant, unaware of a reality where she could be denied. "six, please."

neil adjusts his grip on emily as he digs in his pocket for the roll of tickets. emily resurfaces long enough to demand that she gets to count off the six tickets, and andrew is struck by the patience on neil's face as emily tears them off one by one to hand to fiona. it did not come naturally: neil avoided the twins as newborns, and then was generally unsure of what to do with them for a long time. andrew supposes they've all done some growing up in the last five years.

"i can go with her, if you'd prefer," neil says to andrew. andrew glowers in response. it's a kids coaster -- barely taller than a second story building and moving slower than a golf cart. andrew does not need to be coddled.

emily makes a pitiful sound at neil's suggestion, dropping the remaining tickets as she wraps her arms around neil's neck in refusal. neil huffs a laugh, shifting again to ensure he doesnt drop her. fiona dives to grab the tickets, shooting a significant stink eye at her sister as she hands them to andrew.

"don't worry, uncle andrew," fiona says. "i'll hold your hand if you're scared."

andrew wasn't wrong: the coaster is slow and the dips aren't steep. but they are still enough to send his stomach swooping. fiona shrieks happily every time, and andrew will give aaron's kids one thing: they understand the sanctity of a promise. fiona never lets go of andrew's hand.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fan fic rec of arranged marriage fics where Harry must adapt to a new life as requested in this ask. All the fics I could find that fit the criteria were H/L fics. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

✦ The Murmur of Yearning by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 93k, widow Harry) Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. 

✦ Ace of Spades by @allwaswell16

(E, 78k, a/b/o) Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

✦ Here's Your Perfect by @brightgolden

(E, 54k, a/b/o) In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his.

✦ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k, a/b/o) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth.

✦ the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry

(M, 22k, historical au) When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. 

✦ daisies & dying by xaz

(E, 14k, forced marriage) Hades!Louis and Persephone!Harry but make it pirates

✦ Trust Me Tonight by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 10k, royal au) Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

✦ Make It Work by fanshae 

(M, 10k, a/b/o) Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. 

✦ fallin' all in you by insufferablelovebirds

(NR, 9k, royal au) Princes Louis and Harry pine and their sisters give them a needed nudge.

✦ My Sun and Stars, Moon of my Life by @ohharold

(M, 7k, Game of Thrones au) Harry was used to the luxuries of Kings Landing and then Pentos but when his brother is desperate for the crown he is entitled to, Harry must be part of an arranged marriage to a ruthless Khal of a Dothraki tribe.

✦ A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 7k, a/b/o) Omega Prince Harry had always known that he was going to have an arranged marriage. 

✦ You All the Time by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, fluff) At age sixteen, Harry knows that his parents have found him a husband to marry.