#Criminal!Stone misses you too

[the-whispers-of-death]

i miss criminal!stone (im addicted to him

Criminal!Stone misses you too. I mean, it's only been a few hours since he left the mafia boss (you) to kill an employee of yours who wanted to turn on you and join a rival mafia organization, but he still misses you.

He's counting down the minutes until he's back in the compound with you. Maybe you'll reward his obedience and skill at taking out the trash by giving him some cuddles?

Only you get to see the side of him that wants cuddles from you, everyone else sees this terrifyingly large man whose stares are blank and cold. But with you, he's begging for the privilege to cuddle you, so happily curling up beside you on a couch when you grant him permission to cuddle you.

You're so warm and you feel like home. And so he gets terribly homesick when he's away from you for even an hour.

[spidey-webz]

the sweetest sin – bucky barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Bucky goes undercover at a charity event to get closer to you. You’re his mission. But that dress you’re wearing is a little too tempting…

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, r deals with weapons, r and bucky have a shared history, mentions of bucky’s trauma, r wears a dress, r is also shorter than bucky, somewhat public sex (in a restroom, door closed), slight dom bucky, they’re both really horny, very little plot, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, mirror sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, darling), fingering with the metal hand, hair pulling

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This idea came to me after seeing the Thunderbolts trailer and I really hope you'll like this one!!

Masterlist

The ballroom was filled with chatter and music. Multiple waiters were balancing champagne glasses on their trays, walking from group to group and handing them out with a smile. There were men discussing business deals, old friends exchanging memories and some women holding onto their husbands’ arms as they laughed. 

None of them paid any particular mind to the man in the corner of the room. 

Bucky Barnes was leaning against a stone pillar, his eyes roaming through the room as he attempted to find you in the crowd somewhere. He had declined every glass of champagne, so he could stay alert if you passed by him. 

He had not seen you in a while. To be honest, he had never kept up with your life. His own had been quite the mess after the Blip, but seeing your name in the mission file served as enough of a reminder of what you two had shared. Bucky had been a man without a path ahead of him, only fleeing from everyone that might recognise him, and there you had been – in Romania. You had only spent a few weekends together, but he had enjoyed them all the same. For that short while, he had felt like a normal man. 

When had things gone wrong in your life? Or had you always been involved with this kind of trade? 

The files on you did not mention any criminal activity when he had first met you in 2016. Had it been the Blip that forced you to join illegal weapon trading? Had it been something else in your life?

Bucky could never say he knew you. There had been many secrets between the two of you, starting with his very own identity. You had made him feel safe and yet he hadn’t been able to share his name with you, too afraid that it might slip you at the market or at the gas station. 

Back then, he barely even knew himself. His memories had been a disorganised mess, a whirl of moments and feelings he could not exactly put together. Even being with you, feeling your warm body around him and having your lips wander like feathers over his skin – it had felt almost foreign to his troubled mind. 

Those memories were cherished by him and once he had settled back into a somewhat normal life, Bucky had found himself reminiscing about them on lonely nights. 

Now he was after you. 

There were so many women with the same hair colour as you, but he felt certain that he would still recognise you between all of them. Sam did not know why he had been so determined on receiving this mission, but he would explain it to him in due time. Bucky had promised to reduce the number of secrets he had, but he had never felt comfortable sharing you with anyone. Until now, he had kept you hidden away in a part of his heart that only he could access – in the middle of the night, in quiet moments, in the comfortable space of his bed. 

A flash of white passed by him. Another man might have missed it, but he had been trained to notice any movement in the corner of his eye for years. He turned his head to the side, trying to find the same white dress in the crowd again and there you were. 

Your dress was low-cut, no sleeves and a slit on the side for your thigh and knee to peak through with every step. He flexed his jaw, taking a deep breath as he watched you talk with a man he did not recognise. A glass of champagne rested easily in your hand, your eyes fixed on the person in front of you. He was not blessed with enough enhanced hearing to make out any part of the conversation, yet he found himself entranced with the movements of your lips. 

Bucky had feared that this might happen. He had not seen you in so long and there were so many questions floating around in his head, so many unspoken things on his tongue. But you were his mission all the same and he had hoped to make this entire ordeal a little bit easier on you if it was him that came looking for you. 

The dress you were wearing almost demanded all of his attention. His cheeks started to feel warm once he allowed the memories to flood in. He had you spread out on your bed, his tongue expertly moving between your folds, strong arms holding you in place just for him. You had squeezed his cock so beautiful during every night you two shared and this dress, the flashes of your skin, all of it reminded him of those moments. 

In an attempt to gather himself, he pulled on the ends of his jacket, straightening it in the process.  

People always moved out of his way. Even with his metal hand covered up, they often didn’t want to cross him. It was a strange sensation, no doubt. Bucky would not call himself particularly frightening. 

He did not mean to interrupt your conversation, but he did linger a little closer to you than before. If he caught you alone for a moment, he could speak to you. 

You had seen him when you had turned around to place down your glass of champagne. Bucky Barnes had been a momentary part of your life in Romania, but he had lingered in the back of your mind for years. You had changed and so had the world around you. It didn’t change the way his touch had seemed to stay with you. In lonely moments, it had become a source of comfort, a source of wonder. Of course, you had eventually realised who he was. It had been all over the news. 

The Winter Soldier. 

How could you not know him after every newspaper in town had his face plastered on their front page? And yet he had been a stranger to you until the last second. 

Whatever choices he had made, they had led him here and they had led him to follow you. If you could trust any of the newspaper articles you had read about him recently, he was now one of the good guys and that meant he was out to get you. 

Not that you had committed a horrible crime, but you had given other people the supplies to commit theirs. Enough of an offence to have the former Winter Soldier on your tail. 

You knew he would not interrupt your conversation. He was waiting for the right moment to speak to you and that moment would have to be one between just you and him. You decided to give him the chance to since his eyes seemed to burn holes into your back. With an apologetic smile, you excused yourself to the toilet. 

Moving through the couples standing in your way, you briefly glanced back over your shoulder. He was following you, a stern expression on his face. You had only smile him a few times and those never seemed to reach his eyes in the slightest. There had been a deep sadness about the man you had met in Romania and you wondered if it was still there. 

You closed the door to the restroom behind you, but it opened again just a moment later. 

There was a tzzzz sound and you knew Bucky had used some sort of device to lock the door behind himself. After engaging in weapon trade for a few years, you had become familiar with different methods to remain undisturbed for important conversations. As you stood in front of the mirror, you did not look at him at first. 

His presence alone sent a shiver down your spine. 

Had he thought of you these past years? Had he remembered you in a positive way? 

Bucky had stayed with you even days after his departure from Romania. The memory of his touch had been with you during a shower, during the boring commute to your job and most importantly, during nights facing the moon in an attempt to feel the same way you did for those short weekends. 

His eyes continued to linger on you. He was almost frozen in place even though you did not even give him a glance again. Bucky wanted to tilt your head to the side, run his lips over the familiar skin of your neck and make you shiver in his arms as he had done before. You were right there, a temptation he should avoid. 

He was on a mission. He was not here to reconcile with an old acquaintance and he was definitely not here to indulge any of his own desires. No matter how tight his throat started to feel and how his body seemed to protest his every thought. After all, Bucky had felt alive with you. After so many years of living on auto-pilot, those nights with you had brought him back to this world a little. 

Bucky flexed his left hand. How was he supposed to initiate this conversation? 

I am here to arrest you. I need to know more about the people you’re supplying to…

Why are you wearing this dress? I can’t stop looking at you. 

Neither of these options would work. 

His steps echoed through the empty bathroom once he approached. His reflection appeared in the mirror, close to yours and you searched for his gaze until your eyes met. Maybe you had just imagined it, but Bucky’s expression seemed to soften for just a moment. 

His posture gave him away though. He was tense, metal hand curled into a fist by his side. A smirk appeared on your own lips. His eyes drifted down your neck, to your collarbones and eventually to your cleavage. Of course, he was looking at you. The dress was a nice one, showing just enough to tempt any man. 

Bucky had never been able to forget any detail about you. Having you right in front of him brought all the desire he previously felt right back. 

“It’s good to see you, Bucky.” 

He had never heard you say his name before. Back then, it had always been a different one, but it now sent a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s good to see you too.” 

You were not oblivious to the looks he was giving you. It seemed like your body was tempting him just as it had done years ago. Would it get you out of this situation? 

His suit looked good on him too. You had never seen him in formal clothing before, but it brought out the best in him. His eyes were still the same piercing blue as you remembered. Even though your weekends together had not been of the strictly romantic kind, you had spend hours upon hours gazing into his eyes and trying to make sense of the man in front of you. 

Bucky had always remained a mystery to you until your ways had eventually parted. 

“Have all these years taken your ability to talk to me?” You asked with a wicked smile, turning around to him fully as you leaned against the sink behind you. You could watch his gaze briefly turn towards your exposed knee, then flicker back to your face. 

“Not at all. I am here to talk to you about your job.” So you had been right. Bucky was here to talk to you about your trade, but if you were quite honest, you were not in the mood to talk about it at all. 

“Do we really have to talk about that? You haven’t seen me in years.” You stepped closer to him, taking a moment to appreciate the beard on his face and the curve of his lips. He looked healthier than the last time you saw him – stronger, even. Would his lips still feel good on yours? Would his hands know exactly where to touch you? 

Could he make you come undone like he had done so many times before? 

“No, we do not.” His voice had grown rougher, his gaze darkened just a little. 

Bucky could smell your perfume. It seemed to envelop him entirely, dulling all his thoughts until there was only you. 

You and your pretty dress. You and your tempting lips and a body he wanted to lose himself in. 

His mission was on the line. Could he allow himself to fail it? Return home with empty hands? Just because his hands wanted to be all over you. Bucky wanted to run his fingers over your exposed knee, let his hand wander up and up until he’d reach the wet folds between your legs. Would you still taste the very same there? 

“I did not expect to meet you again like-”

Bucky’s finger found your lips and stopped your words altogether. You blinked up at him, once, twice, through long lashes and he knew he was a doomed man this evening. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. While his right index finger rested on your lips, his left hand slid up your arm. The metal was cool against your skin, a familiar sensation you had dreamed about many times in the past years. 

“Just be quiet.” He leaned down to your ear, his lips grazing your skin ever so slightly. “You look lovely in this dress.” A soft kiss planted at the spot between your ear and your jaw. Enough to send a shiver down your spine. You pulled your arm away to grab his hand, planting it on your waist instead. 

Bucky took his finger away from your lips and looked at you, desire burning in his eyes. His pants were getting tighter the more he thought about your naked body and the promise of maybe exploring it once more. Even if this would be a short-lived moment, he wanted to cherish it. When would he ever get the chance to touch you again? 

You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to give your body to him, even if it was just for one evening. 

Pulling him just a little closer, you pressed your lips against his. Bucky’s hands firmly grabbed your waist, pressing you up against him. You could feel his arousal hard against your leg and it brought a smirk to your lips. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

It was easy for him to lift you up onto the sink and part your thighs enough to stand between them. Bucky’s hands roamed your body, starting at your hips and running his big hands up your back. Your own began to wander to his shirt, opening it button for button, just to see his trained chest peak through. 

His tongue parted your lips, the kiss growing more hungry by the second. He felt like a man starved and you were the only one able to quench his thirst. 

“Need to fuck you in this dress.” His words were a low mumble against your lips, but still enough to make your panties almost feel soaked. Your pussy clenched around nothing, another sign that you needed him just as much. 

“Please do,” you whispered, already feeling out of breath when you briefly parted from each other. Bucky’s hands moved underneath your dress, squeezing the bare skin of your thighs, hands inching further to the inside. 

He wanted to savour this moment. Once you two left the restroom again, life would continue. For now, it could stay exactly like this. 

“Lift your hips for me, doll.” 

There it was. Doll. A familiar endearment from his lips and you were quite happy to oblige. Pushing yourself off the counter for a moment, Bucky hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs. He pushed them into the back pockets of his pants, before kneeling down on the ground in front in you. 

His lips were laced with a wicked smirk after he wet his lips with his tongue. “Spread your legs for me.” 

Once your thighs had parted for him, you leaned back against the mirror behind you, the cool glass against the back of your head. Bucky’s warm breath on your most sensitive spot caused goosebumps to spread over your entire body. 

“Already so wet for me. Did you lure me here on purpose?” Even though you couldn’t see his smile, you could hear it in his voice. 

Whatever words you wanted to reply got stuck in your throat once Bucky’s lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked on it softly, his metal hand travelling closer to where you needed him the most. As his middle finger slid between your wet folds, you pushed your hips against his hand, eager for more. 

“Oh shit,” you cursed under your breath. The cold sensation of his metal digit inside you left you gasping with every new curl of his finger. Bucky continued to alternate between sucking on your sensitive nub and flicking his tongue against it. 

He knew how to work your body and he wanted to see you explode in front of him. Your taste on his tongue was enough to keep him satisfied for days. Once he added another finger, filling your pussy so tightly, you pressed your left hand down on your mouth to prevent your moans to slip past your lips. 

Your right hand found its way into Bucky’s hair, pressing him just a little closer to your middle. The tension in your abdomen became more and more, your walls quivering around his fingers. With every stroke of his fingers inside you, with every expertly placed flick of his tongue, he brought you closer to a climax and he could tell. 

Bucky felt your walls clench around his hand, your thighs shaking around his head. A deep groan escaped him. It was enough to sent vibrations through your core, your squeal only being muted by your own hand around your mouth. 

“Come for me, darling.” You wanted to obey his wishes and with one more roll of your hips and a flick of Bucky’s tongue against your clit, your orgasm rolled over you. Your hand pulled harder on his hair as you tried to keep as quiet as possible. Bucky loved the feeling of your thighs closing around his head, almost threatening to smother him in-between. 

When he stood back up once your climax had worn off, he licked over his lips slowly. You barely had time to catch your breath when he pulled you right back into his arms, erection pressing against your thigh as you could taste yourself on his tongue. Bucky’s kiss was eager and hungry, his metal hand sneaking up the back of your neck. 

“Can you taste yourself on my tongue?” His words were a mumble against your mouth, almost being drowned out by another kiss. Bucky’s eyes were wide with lust, his hand manoeuvring your neck to the side, so he could run his tongue up your neck. Another moan slipped past your lips, your body eagerly pressing into his. You wanted to savour each of his touches and stop time. 

You nodded in reply, feeling the rough brush of his beard against your jawline. It was enough to make you shiver, enough to want even more of him. 

“Talk to me,” he urged you, his mouth right next to your ear. 

“Yes, I can.”

Your voice was trembling, your hands fumbling to get a hold of his cheeks. When you cupped his cheeks, you turned his face towards you. Bucky’s cheeks had turned a soft red colour and his hips were slightly rolling against your leg. He needed the relief as much as you had. 

“I need you.” 

Bucky didn’t need to hear more than that. You helped him open his pants and slide them down, his boxers soon following. In an attempt to relieve some of the need between your legs, you squeezed them together, but Bucky quickly pulled them apart once more. 

“Need to be inside you,” he mumbled against your neck. Your hands moved to his back, legs wrapping around his hips and Bucky grabbed the underside of your thighs to position you properly. His tip brushed past your folds, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Bucky had always filled you out so nicely and you couldn’t wait to feel it again. 

When he pushed inside, you leaned your head back against the mirror behind you. Bucky let out a soft groan, closing his eyes to savour the feeling. Your walls were still so very tight around him, fitting perfectly around his cock. His first thrust was slow, but it filled you out all the same. 

Your fingers attempted to get a hold of his shirt as he leaned down and softly sucked on the soft skin at your throat. “Fuck,” you groaned, pushing your hips up to feel him even deeper. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure through you, your body rocking in sync with his even when his thrusts grew more rapid. 

Bucky’s fingers dug into the soft skin around your hips, holding you in place as started to chase his own high. The knot in your abdomen got tighter and tighter. 

He groaned into your shoulder, face pressed against your skin, his hot breath leaving goosebumps spread over your entire body. “Shit,” you cursed again, feeling yourself getting so close to that sweet high – once again. 

Before you could reach your sweet relief, Bucky pulled out again, leaving your cunt empty and leaking. A puzzled expression appeared in your face, but you soon knew what his plan was. In one swift movement, Bucky had you off the counter and turned around, seeing your own flushed face in the mirror. 

Bucky entered you once more, this time with one hard thrust. It was already enough to send you over the edge, but his thrusts kept going. Your pussy was spasming around him, legs trembling as your orgasm just kept going. Bucky’s metal hand pressed down on your mouth to silence your moans as he kept the ruthless pace up, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again. 

The pleasure was too much, your thighs trying to squeeze together and your hands holding tightly onto the counter. His grunts of pleasure filled your ear and his eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Once your gazes met, his teeth scraped against your earlobe, his thrusts growing almost erratic. Bucky was so close too, so close to spending himself inside you. 

“Going to fill you up, doll,” he groaned and as you pushed your hips back again, walls squeezing his cock so deliciously, it finally tipped him over the edge. His low moan sounded in your ear and his face was distorted with lust. The sight alone gave you one final push to reach your next high, one hand desperately holding onto Bucky’s strong forearm. 

He held you in place as ropes of cum painted your insides white, his cock still pulsing inside you. Bucky wanted to hold you like this forever, as close as humanly possible, and never let go again. 

Soft kisses were planted on your shoulder, his beard scraping along your soft skin, leaving a slight redness behind. His lips wandered over to your pulse point, making you whimper as you pressed yourself back into his chest. 

“I’ve missed you.”

His words were unexpected, but you cherished them all the same. You had missed him too – more than you often liked to admit. 

“I missed you too.” 

There were still so many things to discuss between you, but Bucky was pretty sure that those could wait for another moment longer. That dress had already distracted him more than enough, but he wished to remember every little detail of you wearing it. That would take time. 

It definitely looked like time had stopped for the both of you, even if it was just for tonight. 

[twisted-whatifs]

Cultural exchange, Malleus x reader.

Sumary: you’re hanging out with malleus, and end up getting to see his more dragon side.

Notes: it can be read as both romantic and platonic, but there is already an established close friendship, as well as I did put a minor sex joke in there but it’s overall pretty innocent.

2.4K words

His bed is criminally soft, the air smells of fire, pine, and comfort, and the dorm room you´re occupied in screams of wealth and status. So of course, this is exactly where you want to spend your afternoons!

Your head rests against the pillow, letting your hair spill out around your face, as you lay on your side in the middle of the queen-sized bed. The view before you is that of the soon-to-be king of Briar Valley’s room. The floors and walls are shrouded in black, making the fireplace at the foot of the bed seem much more powerful. Though his room isn't the most welcoming at first, you've grown used to it and all its quirks- like the tiny stone pieces on the floor, which he drags with him - by accident - while making gargoyles.

You let out a sigh of relief, not feeling burdened by the tall presence behind you. Rather, you find solace in knowing he's here with you, accompanying and protecting you. You roll over and onto your back, in response to him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“it's nice to finally have some alone time, without that weasel constantly complaining in my ear.” You say with a soft content smile, mirroring his own.

“I know how you feel. I'm beyond grateful for the time here at Night Raven Collage, although having Sebek and Silver tailing me at any given moment can be a burden at times.”

You let out a small kind of laugh, finding amusement in the fact that he, too, acknowledges those two and their overprotective nature. Releasing another sigh from your lungs, you close your eyes and bask in the peace of the moment; the bed beneath you lulling you to sleep, yet your mind still drifts.

“I could so live here - it's way better than ramshackle. That much is certain.”

“If it were up to me, you would have already had a room of your own in our dorm.”

“But it doesn't work like that, does it? Crowley wouldn't let me stay here in a million years”

“No, unfortunately not.”

He finishes off before laying down next to you, joining you in simply relaxing in the presence of each other. As tempting as it would be to open your eyes and turn your head to see him lying next to you, sleep is dragging you in.

“You know, all this dorm stuff… It's so weird to me. Where I'm from, we don't exactly have a magic mirror to tell us where we belong.”

"Well I have to admit, it is a bit of an oddity here as well- But how is your world, for it to be so different from ours?”

“I think a very big part of it is that in my world, we simply don't have magic and because of that, anything within the realm of magic is entirely foreign to me.”

“How intriguing… I think it's safe to assume you miss your home?”

“Yeah… the world I'm from is so different to yours… Like, for example, in my world dragons don't exist.” I finally open my eyes and turn to look at him. As I do, I see him quietly laughing.

“Believe it or not, the people of this world believe the same.”

“Really?!... But aren't you like a dragon?”

“To answer your question, no, I am not a full-blooded dragon. Rather, I'm a dragon/draconic fae, the two are different. According to the public, dragons are extinct, and even though I am in direct opposition to their claims, the general knowledge stays the same.”

“Woah… that's… wild?”

“You're right, it is, my Child of Man…”

“... Well, what does it entail to be a dragon fae?”

His gaze, which earlier had been focused on the ceiling, dipped down to meet yours. His breathtaking green eyes are locked on your own, as he gives you a quizzical look.

“What do you mean, Dear?”

You turn to your body to fully face him, as you sit up on the bed, looking down at him and taking in your position looming above him. He lays relaxed against the sheets, with his hands on his stomach. It is a rare sight for many, but not for you.

“Like, what's it like? What differences does it make?...” You shot a look up to his horns “... What does it look like?”

“... You wish to see my dragon form?”

“-YES”

He's taken aback for a second before his face softens into a smile and he laughs, like actually laughs with heart.

“You humans are such curious creatures… I should warn you, that you might not like what happens if you choose to go through with it.” A mischievous - almost playful - smile is spread across his face. It makes you smile too, to see him so genuinely enjoy something.

“And what does that mean? Is that a threat?”

“You'll find out~” There's no way you're backing down now. You wait patiently as he slowly sits up on the bed, his back just a few inches away from the headboard, his back is as straight as ever.

“Where do we start?”

“Well I've already seen your tail once, but I would love to get a chance to see it up close!”

And with that, a tail spins itself around the edge of the bed from where it connects to him. It's as if it was never hidden in the first place, by how you didn't even notice it appeared. It is longer than his legs and it is covered in beautiful black scales, that shine blues and purples in the light, along with a couple of spikes along its back, ending at the tip with a small appendage (look at the picture for reference). Your eyes are busy studying his tail, while his eyes are busy studying you.

“... Wow… Can I touch it?”

“Go ahead… But be careful, one wrong move and it could easily fling you across the room.”

“You wouldn't do that, would you?”

“Maybe,” He says with that same grin on his face. He clearly wouldn't do it. He's just saying it to tease you. Taking his advice, I carefully reached my hand towards his tail and he so graciously moved closer to me- to the point where the end was touching my thigh. The scales are smooth and cold, yet I can feel the warmth from underneath them, it's a similar feeling to holding a snake yet way bigger- and that it belongs to one of my close friends. My hands trail across its length, admiring the intricacies as I run my fingers up the sides of one of the spikes, gently tapping the tip when I reach it to see how sharp it is. When retracting my finger, it was wholly intact. The spikes aren't particularly sharp.

My eyes met his once again, he wore a face of satisfaction as he observed me.

“I was right. You didn't send me flying”

Breaking the silence I spoke up, and in response, he chuckled- not so much because he found it funny, but rather, perhaps he was simply amused by my intrigue of his extensions. My hand was still on his tail, absentmindedly stroking the scales in an up-and-down motion.

“The last time I saw your tail, I didn't get to see it in such lights as the ones we currently have- Your scales are breathtaking”

“I'm glad you think so.” As he finished up his sentence, he lifted the end of his tail, until the tip was at perfect reach. Taking in the unspoken invitation, I make a final stroke from one of the points of the three-pointed tip, down before he retracts it, adjusting his position against the headboard.

He leans towards me, lifting his knee to support his elbow, so he can rest his cheek on the back of his hand. Meanwhile, his face is reflecting his highly aroused state of mind.

“Are you ready to move on to the next ones? To indulge your curiosities more; or do you wish to back out while you can?”

“You make it sound like I’m in some sort of imminent danger…”

He raised a brow and squinted his eyes, exaggeratedly scrutinizing me- for his standards- you, that is to say, most people as well, rarely ever see him so animated as he is now “Who says I'm not? I strike fear upon whoever may witness me.”

“Well, not me.”

“Perchance you're the peculiar one, then?”

I scoff and roll my eyes, not taking the jab to heart, before returning my gaze to his happy one. ”Well… you got wings right?”

“Indeed I do; you wish to indulge them next?”

“Sure, let's see them.”

Closing his eyes while nodding, he leaned back slightly, returning to a more neutral position, and relaxing his shoulders. “If I do, then it would make it a lot easier for me if I were to remove my shirt; are you comfortable with that, Child of Man?”

“Yeah, sure, I don't mind.”

“... And you can promise to not tell of this to anyone? If my grandmother were to catch wind of me undressing before a human, I would not hear the end of it.”

I chuckle at the thought.

“I promise- It won't end well for me either!”

He goes ahead without further conversation, beginning to undress. As the layers of fabric lifted off his body, it revealed more scales splayed across his features- even on the features visible earlier. The scales beautifully apply to, and exaggerate the contours and highlights of his body and face, making him look even more inhumanly beautiful.

He sits on his knees in front of me, threatening to make my neck ache if I had to look him in the eyes. Then, faster than I could compute, I’m surrounded by black. His large- large- wings encircle me. I whip my head from side to side, trying to look at them fully before my eyes lock with his. He wore the same stupid grin he did earlier, only bigger, I didn't even know he could be this expressive.

“So, child? Are you intimidated?”

“I-... well yes, kind of...”

His voice is roaring as he laughs at me, having his fun to the full before it softens into a more apologetic one.

“Sorry, the last thing I would want is for you to be scared of me.” He raised his hand and gently glided the back of his fingers against my cheek; he's been very bold recently.

He unflexed his wings, allowing the light to flow back to us. Between the very forward displays of affection, his high mood, and your eyes having to accommodate more light, you need a moment to adjust. And following you as you adjust, he does the same with his position, allowing you full access to his back. His wings go far lower than his back- the ends splay down far onto the bed.

You slowly reach out your hand, first coming into contact with the skin between the shoulder blades. His teal-tipped hair ends tickle your fingers before you finally come into contact with the wings. They spout out unusually from his back, with a joint prominent on the shoulder blade. As your hands glide upwards towards the tip of the top joint, you lightly graze over the talon placed on it, and moving your hand down further to the very end, you grasp the tip and watch it flex out and unfurl again, taking in and admiring the intricate ways it moves.

A few minutes go by of this- by curiously taking in his features, as he sits with his back turned to you in silence, to not interrupt your so focused observations; his wings being the biggest muse as it stands. Mesmerized by the way the thin tissue of his wings unfold when they open up, or the way that they can shield you away from almost any danger out there, within but a second.

The hair running down his back shifts, as he turns his head back to look at you, gazing at you with what could almost be described as sultry eyes.

“Did you have your fun?”

“Oh, if I did- your wings are enchanting, Malleus.”

He's turned over so he's facing you again, now getting yet another good look at the scales adorning his upper body. He smiles in contentment, the worn-out traces of his lipstick emphasising his lips as they curl upwards.

“So, Mal… is the next step full dragon form?”

“Oh no, my Child of Man, I think that will have to wait for another time; royal secrecy and indecency rules and whatnot.”

“Aw… Though when that does happen - which it will- can I ride you?”

“I can't promise anything, but it certainly wouldn't go against my reservations.”

Before you could answer, a notification rang through your phone, that Crowley gave you back at the Scarabia incident. As it turned out it was a text from Epel, in a group chat you’re in with your first-year friends. But as the screen lit up, the time caught your eye.

“There's only about an hour left, until I have to meet up with Grim again for dinner… how about we savour these last few moments?”

“Do you have anything particular in mind, prefect?”

He raised an eyebrow before answering, and when he was done speaking you took a bold move to lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to lay on the mattress along with you.

“Could we spend the time cuddling until I have to go again?”

His usual warm smile returns to his face, though differently this time, accompanied by the slightest redness dusting his cheeks.

“I would be delighted to.”

He gently grabs onto your waist, pulling you closer to his body. The scales on his neck feel cold to the touch, as you make yourself comfortable laying your head against his chest; letting the soft rhythmic thump of his heartbeat lull you to sleep before his tail wraps around one of your legs. Lastly, he opens his wings and wraps them around the two of you.

Staying like that, the two of you lay comfortably in each other's presence, before you had to return to whatever duties and responsibilities await you outside his room.

A/N (Chrille): from what I've heard, in Briar Valley, there's a rumour/belief that dragons are extinct? I’m not too sure though. Also please exuse if my grammar or mommas are weird English isn’t my first language😭

[madthetruemad]

because i dared to want something | part one

aeon!sunday x fem!reader

with your family and village riddled in ruins and tragedy, you sought to pray to a broken aeon statue. if the aeon hears you, you aren't sure, but your prayers and hopes are all that you have.

note | released the first chapter in celebration of sunday's banner coming out today !!

table of contents | next

Carefully, you swept away the dirt, leaves, and dead grass that had accumulated around the statue. Your eyes focused on each dirty patch as the sun began to rise. Once you swept the slightly broken marbled floor and gathered all the dirt and such into one pile, you went to sweep it all outside.

It was a simple feat within the abandoned shrine since it was worn down and had many holes within the walls, some of the infrastructure missing entirely in large portions. Not to mention that half of the ceiling was gone and large pieces of marble columns lay scattered across the floor.

You and the villagers that lived in the small town near the shrine believe it has been abandoned for at least 200 or so years (give or take), but no one was sure since there were no sort of documents or texts depicting of anything of the sort within the building. No one even knew what the shrine was for.

Sighing to yourself, you placed the broom up against a part of a wall that wasn’t broken and went to your small bag that you laid near a single, lone statue. Looking up at the piece, you wondered what aeon the people before you were worshipping.

The statue itself was as worn down as the building. Large chunks of carefully crafted marble had crumbled and lay around at the statue’s feet. Its stomach was missing along with certain parts of its body and even its head was gone too. Yet what did remain was the statue’s two hands outstretched towards you. The hands were perfectly sculpted, slender, soft, and cool to the touch.

Despite the statue being broken, you saw this as a sign. That maybe the aeons were trying to tell you all something. That there was a reason why there was this abandoned shrine here.

Your family and village keep getting tormented by sickness, taxes, criminals, and even your emperor. It was all getting too much. Medicine was overpriced, traveling merchants were cruel and unjust, the emperor continually placed higher taxes and gave harsher living demands, the knights never lended single helping hand to the thieves and bandits that ransacked your village monthly, and winter was fast approaching.

You hoped that by finding this aeon’s statue, that maybe there was still some hope left.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, and afterwards I even have an offering for you too.”

Bending down to your bag, your brought out a small rag, and next to your bag was a bucket of water that you had filled up at the river’s creek near your village (though, it was farther than you thought and accidentally twisted your ankle on some of the jagged rocks).

Dipping the cloth into the bucket and then gently wringing it out, you went over to the statue and began cleaning it. The clothe immediately began to soak up all the dirt and dust that got caked onto the smooth, white stone – the shiny surface underneath soon shining through as you got to work.

“There, all clean,” you said with a smile. Your eyes raking over the statue as you took a step back.

It took you longer than you expected, but you were glad that the statue wasn’t covered in dirt and grime anymore. Finally, after tossing the rag into the bucket, you looked around at the various statue pieces lying about at its feet. If you were one of those talented, rich artisans, you would have tried to put the statue back together, but since that wasn’t the case you ended up placing what you believed was the statue and lay them close to the aeon. It was the least you could do when you first started visiting the abandoned shrine.

“Now for the offering.”

Crouching down to your bag and wincing slightly at the pain in your ankle, you pulled out the few crumbled pieces of breads and bruised fruits you could afford and placed them at the foot of the statue. Then, moving to sit on your knees, you placed your hands together and bowed your head. Your eyes slipped shut as you steadied your breath.

You weren’t well educated. Reading, writing, and such was far above your knowledge. So learning about the aeons was something you could never delve into along with the fact that your village had only one or two books. You did try to teach yourself once, but that proved to be too difficult and a tutor was out of the question considering your money situation.

But you could still hope.

“I am so sorry, but I do not know your name nor the path you follow, and I do not wish to be so foolish in being greedy towards you or in asking for things for when I don’t even know who you are. So… all I will ask of you is to be happy. I do not know what will happen to me, my family, or the village, but I hope that seeing you is a sign of better things to come. Rest well, dearest aeon. I hope that your name will resurface once more, someday.”

Ending your prayer, you had gathered your belongings and had made an attempt to stand, but instead you found yourself falling forward, your breath heavy as your vision blurred.

You were tired, you could feel it in your bones as you closed your eyes for a moment. Today’s work was tough on you, sleep just out of reach, and tonight you figured that the work waiting for you will be even worse.

When you tried to stand again, you ended up right back on the floor. Your cheek pressed hard into the cool marble ground as your fatigued mind started to drift. You knew you needed to get home. You knew that you couldn’t, shouldn’t, sleep here, and yet…

You curled into a ball, your body moving to lay on your side as you let out a shuttering breath. Your eyelids felt heavy as you drifted off into a silent slumber.

“Sweet girl.”

A voice broke out into a openness of the abandoned shrine. A figure materializing a moment later as a warm blanket of light cascaded you instantly, shielding you easily from the cold wind that seeped through the gaps and holes in the wall.

The man moved to where he was next to your upper body and sat on the cold floor. His hands moving to gently pull you to where you were sitting up and leaning against his chest. His arms serving as a sort of barrier as he hugged you close.

The wings adorning his head, gently caressing your cheeks before he leaned in a placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then, he angled his face to where his lips were pressing lightly against your ear, his lips merely ghosting over the soft, sensitive skin as he whispered to you.

“My name is Sunday,” he spoke gently, “I wonder… if you’ll be able to hear my voice now just as how I am able to hear yours.”

In response, you merely shifted in his hold, your body crowding closer to him in search of the warmth that he radiated causing him to chuckle.

“Rest well.”

taglist

@vashyuu

[soleilapproves]

burnt out reader crying about her grades while being fucked by ex convict!Sukuna / alternate title: Sukuna discovers empathy.

Notes: fem/afab!reader, NSFW, angst to fluff (I think), comfort. This is related to the burnt out reader x ex convict!sukuna prompt I posted earlier.

main masterlist

Everything was so overwhelming. From the rumpled sheets beneath your rocking body to the dimness of the room- Sukuna said he’d rather keep the lights off. Something about coming too soon if he saw your face.

You were spent. Mentally and physically. You didn’t have the energy in you to moan, only letting out breathless pants as Sukuna’s cock roughly moved in and out from your spasming hole. You had come long ago by his fingers so all you were waiting for was for his release so you could leave his apartment and sleep in your own bed as soon as possible.

Sleep.

Something you had been missing for days, trying to cram in everything as much as possible for the back to back exams in the coming weeks. Normally, Sukuna’s voice would’ve had you hypnotized with how deep his moans sounded, but you just weren’t there today. You were glad the lights were off- his ego wouldn’t have been able to handle your ruminating expression. Eyebrows furrowed and all.

Your mind kept flashing you the image of the grades from your mid term exams- C, C, D, B-. These grades are not what you see on a scholarship student’s transcript, but you only had so much mental strength left in you to keep studying. Guilt seeped into the discreet crevices of your contemplation- did you even like your major? Gone were the days of your ambitious past, back when you were an academic force. A storm in the grade curve.

Now you’re just a husk of what was once a great feat.

And then it happened, one tear. Two tears, and then a whole flood of them. Your pants turned into whimpers and wails.

What were you doing with your life? The person you were three years ago would’ve slapped you if she saw the present. Your life had come to an all time low. It was always said that the brightest flames burn out the fastest.

Everything felt like it was being held together by a delicate cloth, and now it was beginning to tear from the seams, spilling out everything you were trying to control. At this point there was nothing left to hold on to. Your body shivered as you removed your hands from Sukuna’s biceps that were caging your body to hug yourself.

“Shit, am I fucking you that good?”

His question made you wail harder, prompting him to cum into your sopping cunt. Even the man who had crept into the most intimate parts of your body didn’t know how you felt. It felt worse knowing that you both didn’t even have any romantic feelings towards each other, simply using each other’s bodies for sexual gratification. An escape from whatever the real world had muddled you in.

Your tears just wouldn’t stop flowing and Sukuna was starting to get concerned.

“What the—did I go too hard?” The room was dark but it was enough for you to see that he was leaning closer and closer to your face, too concerned to remove his limp dick from inside you. You pushed his face away with your small hand but the man was as persistent as a stone hedge.

He pulled out and flipped you both over—your small body now laying on top of his hard, muscled one. His bulky arms wrapped tightly around you as you sobbed onto his shoulder.

“What are you-“

“Just shut up. You can go back to your place later.”

Staring up at the ceiling with a hand on your head, he began to wonder what led him to do that. Every woman he had fucked in the past was kicked out the second he was done with them but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to treat you like that. He didn’t think that it would’ve been possible to treat someone like this. Not after all his years of being a criminal.

Maybe it was because you were in a vulnerable state right now or maybe it’s because you’re at a point in your life where you just need some kind of stability. Even if it veils toxicity. He never knew about whatever was on your mind because you simply never talked about your life with him. Just texted him that you wanted to see him, fucked him, and then left. If it weren’t for your arousal all over his lower half, one would think that you were simpler never there.

He unexpectedly begins to rub up and down your naked back and pulls up his blanket to cover you when he notices that you’re shivering.

The scent of his sweat and body wash mixed together clouded your senses of both smell and judgement. You didn’t say anything and just held him tightly, trembling arms almost choking his thick neck. For now, he was your oasis.

[m1d-45]

the eye of the beholder

summary: shields were a vital part of any combat. you knew, of course, that your lover was capable of summoning one with his vision, but you’ve never been on the receiving end of it…

word count: 1.5k

-> warnings: nope :] petname "my dear" is used towards reader once

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @arienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

liyue was well guarded. millelith studded the streets of the harbor like jewels across rings, well averting most thieves or would be criminals. it was hard not to feel safe when walking along any street, with the rare exception of some of the further-out docks. even then, you’ve never really had reason to worry; in part, of course, due to the company you kept close.

zhongli was… eccentric, to put it kindly. he dressed in thick, heavy suits even through the most unbearable summers, he bought any manner of strange stones or old strains of tea just to take pride in spending fatui money (how he got away with this, you didn’t know), and he made a habit of seeking out every historian in the harbor just to prod at them with his knowledge of history. he gave no clear reason for any of these things, chalking it up to “personal preference,” “it’s not like they’d miss the money,” and “simply seeking knowledge” respectively.

you knew this, and you loved him for it. every time you went to his house, he had some new trinket or teacup lining his shelves. he was a collector, mainly of amusement and knowledge, and often brought you along on his adventures. he brought you everywhere: to the higher end of feiyun slope, where just a single stone cost more than your house, to the deep edges of the lower harbor, the air thick with humidity as he pointed out the various streaks of wear on the cliffsides. to dunyu ruins, because he heard a rumor not of ancient treasure or unimaginable glory, but of a geoculus.

geoculi were as common as the birds in the sky, with very few adventurers having the time or skill to move them. deceptively heavy, rooted in place by binds of geo energy, and those that did manage to haul them to a statue of the seven were rewarded with barely a glimmer in the wind. despite their legends, oculi were common across every nation, and were only about as interesting as a strange bird to most of the public.

naturally, your partner had reportedly been trying to acquire one for months now. why? for fun, it seemed. and so you set out beside him, past bubu pharmacy and out into the plains.

aside from settlements, liyue was mostly wild land. tianqiu valley was overrun with treasure hoarders, cuijue slope covered in geo elementals and ruin machines. and yet, despite going out on similar trips with zhongli several dozen times before, the worst injury you’ve had is a minor scrape from tripping over a tree root when he wasn’t looking. he was quick with his spear and fine with his words, not to mention that most of the various gangs and thieves knew his name well by now. if you didn’t know better, he’d almost look like an easy mark: a well-dressed man with a slow tone and silk gloves, like he wasn’t in the think of jueyun karste searching for ore.

they learned quick. you’ve fully seen a fatui member stop and walk the other way mid-patrol when he walked by, which while strange was perfectly fine by you. no conflict, no need for worry, just him and whatever sight he felt like showing you that day.

today, you approached a wide, open basin set into the earth. one half was covered in ruined stone and overgrown vegetation, only broken by pins of red torchlight. within, two massive statues guarded the entrance to yet more ruined buildings, the half-crumbled body of another laying not too far away. in the center of it all was a pool of water with a stone pedestal in the center, holding a rusted chest. far above that, however, was your beloved’s target: a shimmering geoculus, spinning lazily in the air.

how were you going to get it? no idea. how were you going to get down there in the first place? not a clue. what was the pale dome around it and the pond? you had to stop asking questions you didn’t have the answer to.

zhongli hummed, satisfied, his shoulders shifting back a bit in pride. he took your hand in his, leading you closer with a whisper to “watch your step, my dear.”

he found a path like it had personally called his name, the one corner of the sheer stone that had walkable ground. tucked between the cliff face and a wall of the ruin, he went down first, leading you down after, never letting you fall. he never once slipped, as if his boots had spikes that drilled into the earth and weren’t high end dress shoes. the perks of a geo vision, you supposed…

the path was steep and your hands were admittedly unsteady by the end of it, but before you knew it you were standing on solid ground. his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you toward him, a soft kiss pressed to your cheek as a quiet reward for your tenacity.

the geoculus was hidden within a strange dome of anemo, three oddly-carved pillars spaced around it. near one of them was a floating wisp over a mossy stone, which flew to the pillar with the sound of faint bells when touched.

“an unfinished seelie court,” zhongli mused, looking around the basin. one half was overgrown with vines hanging down from the upper level, and the other was blocked by a gate with some sort of puzzle waiting to be solved.

naturally, he turned to the mess of vines, holding out his hand for you again.

“stay close. we don’t know what might be inside.”

you do, following as he cut down the foliage, listening over the sound of your breath for the seelie’s chimes. the walls were covered in greenery, but where they parted were intricate geometric patterns, sharp spirals cut into the stone. the air was cool, the stone quiet, moss cushioning your steps. if you were being honest, you thought zhongli was being a bit overcautious; but liyuen ruins were more challenging on the mind than the body. you were more likely to find a seelie than an arrow in your shoulder… though you’d be lying if it wasn’t endearing every time. who wouldn’t feel special, with such a pretty man so concerned for their safety?

you didn’t think much of your surroundings when the room opened up, still searching for the seelie that seemed to be nowhere. but you heard no bells, no chimes, just your shoes on the floor and the clank of heavy gears from high above.

fine. so maybe he had a point about danger this time. broken clocks and all that.

your eyes tracked the sound to the ceiling, not minding the arm the stretched in front of you. whatever was moving, it sounded heavy, old, rusted metal falling through the gaps in the stone beams. the heap pushed itself up only unsteady feet, studded with gears in indecipherable script. it was easily twice as tall as you were, if not taller, and you suddenly understood every precaution he’d given you about the dangers faced in the plains.

your fear didn’t get the chance to set. the floor glowed as geo condensed, the sharp snap of zhongli’s arms pulling a stele from the earth, directly between you and the machine. in an instant, pure geo energy coalesced around you, a paper-thin layer of shining gold that you felt more than saw.

you were not one for combat. you were not a vision wielder, not an adventurer, not a pirate or guard or anything of the sort. you had never once been with zhongli in a fight, and though you were grateful for that…

time had slowed to nothing. all you could see was the gentle shield wrapped around you, an almost physical pressure that settled into your mind like water soaking into sand. assuredness, confidence, security kept tight around you as the shield shined. you felt safe, a bone-deep sanctuary that made it a little hard to breathe, if only from surprise.

it made sense, somewhat, that shields would protect the mind as well as the body. you lifted a hand, pressing it against the delicate film, resonance buzzing where you touched.

the earth shook beneath your feet, pulling you from your thoughts. just as you moved to step out from behind the stele, zhongli returned, eyes scanning over you for harm before sweeping you close to his chest. he held you tight, warm and protective and between him and the shield you felt as if you could cry. indemnity flowed in your veins, the world falling away, the weighted air keeping you grounded.

“let’s go home, darling.”

you blinked, pulling yourself out of the deep warmth of the jade shield. “what about your oculus?”

“i can fetch it another time.” he pulled away just enough to kiss your temple, keeping his arm around your waist as he led you out of the ruins. “your safety matters more to me than any gem.”

the shield didn’t last you saw the sun, but the sense of shelter long persisted.

[crazyyluvr]

Gotta put Some Color in the Miserable Place — Much to Dirtyhands' Liking

pairing: kaz x gn!reader

summary: A famous graffiti artist has been roaming around Ketterdam for a while now. It was about time you set your sights on the Slat, bare and just waiting to be painted on. A certain gloved man didn't exactly like that.

genre: idk how to label it but it's the beginning of something

wc: 2.3k

content: art-inclined reader, they/them pronouns, kaz getting annoyed, ooc kaz? not sure how to write him properly yet, spraypaint exists because I need it to, fighting

note: just a little something to get me out of my slump — it sucks, i'm sorry

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1/?

Ketterdam wasn't known to be the most luxurious of cities in Kerch. Yes, it did have places where people with money could settle down and quality napkins for them to wipe their buttcheeks on, but the "slums" part of the city overpowered that luxury. There were numerous criminals, thieves, pickpockets, and people of other illegal occupations roaming around the streets, especially the streets of the West Stave. At every alley, there would be at least some signs of a beating that occurred not too long ago. Even when people inhaled the air, it didn't feel clean.

One of your biggest concerns about the city, however, wasn't about how cleanly it was. What worried you the most was about how damn plain it seemed to be.

Where was the color? The flare? Come on, if people around the lands travel to Kerch for business, they might as well have some pretty things to look at as they cautiously walked on the streets.

You took it upon yourself to rectify that. Which was why, for the past two years, you have been one of the most sought-after criminals of Ketterdam that everyone called the “Painter”. Not because you murdered people or stole kruge, no. It wasn't even because of the fact that you decided to spray your art without permission.

It wasn't really the art that concerned other people (most of the time), but rather where you decided to put it up.

Plain old alley walls weren't the only victims of your spray bottles. Your style ended up on the main doorways of well-known brothels like the Menagerie, or the ground leading to the secret bases of different gangs. It made you a target not only of officers, but of other criminals as well. You may or may not have been the cause of the Dime Lions losing one of their main strongholds to a rival gang because you put skipping stones of Pekka Rollins' name leading to it.

You were flattered by the attention people were putting on you, but you felt unsatisfied. You had tried to put at least a little bit of your art on every visible wall of the West Stave and some of the East Stave as well, but there was something missing. Like there was one part of the Ketterdam map that hasn't been colored by you.

You got the answer to your problem one mundane day, while you were coming back from the market with a bag of groceries.

The Slat.

You had no idea why it hadn't hit you sooner. Sure, the Slat was the home of the Crows besides their bar "The Crow Club." Sure, the gang had been gaining a dangerous reputation this past year. Sure, the man calling the shots was scary as hell.

But it was just perfect.

You had long admired the Crows and their leader Kaz Brekker. You had spotted him going about business during late nights when you decided to test your skills by evading the Wraith that always pursued him (you hadn't been attacked by her, so you assumed that you were really good at sneaking around).

He was a man of business, a boss that liked getting his hands dirty — maybe that was how he got his nickname Dirtyhands. You don't see much of that in Ketterdam, and that interested you quite a bit.

Not to mention he was attractive in his own, ghostly way.

The Slate was also one of the very few canvases that you had left blank in this wretched city due to some unknown and unconscious reason, but now you had just the perfect artwork in mind for it.

—————

Kaz was in a bad mood today.

He woke up to his leg in pain. Well, it was always in pain, but it felt particularly worse that day. He almost face-planted while hobbling down the stairs in the Slat.

He had a small heist, with just him, Jesper, and Inej, but it was still messed up due to the unexpected appearance of a drunk group in the house they were robbing.

He got jumped on by some stupid pickpockets, idiots who were unaware of his identity and his reputation. He didn’t obtain any injury, but the blood that still stained his black gloves and his long black coat made him feel disgusting.

Just when he thought that he would find peace in the Slat, peace in just holing up in his office with no one to bother him, he limps down the streets of West Stave to the home of the Dregs to find a small crowd gathered on the side, murmuring to each other.

They were all members of the Crows, and they were all looking at something that was on the wall of the Slat.

His already creased brows creased further at the sight of the gathering. What were these idiots looking at this time?

Jesper was the first one who first saw him, eyes drifting over his blood-splattered clothes in slight concern.

“What’s going on?” Kaz asked, not giving Jesper the opportunity to worry over him.

“It seems that the Painter finally set their eyes on the Slat,” Jesper replied, his voice containing its usual mischief and mirth.

Kaz forged onwards, making the sharpshooter step aside to make way for Dirtyhands.

The small crowd parted for him as well, conversations dying down to small murmurs as Kaz got a better look at what they were ogling at.

He had to blink to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

When “the Painter” left Jesper’s mouth, Kaz wanted to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. The days when infamous the Painter set sights on establishments or gang bases were the days when gangs or businessmen would get publicly humiliated by the art on their walls. Normally, it would ridicule the head of the place (The Menagerie spent a significant amount of money to wash off and paint over the caricature of Tante Heleen in a horrid neon green outfit) or reveal some interesting gang secrets (two gangs were exposed to be stealing from each other and there was a little war between them).

Which was why Kaz had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing it right.

The artwork on the side of the Slat was a large mural of the Dregs’ signature crow perched on the lip of a cup, but a trail of black roses swirled around it in a spiral. Surrounding it was the Crows’ motto “no mourners, no funerals” in black and white. The irregular red and white shape behind it all emphasized everything, making it look like a banner rather than something someone actually took the time to spray on a wall.

It was unlike any artwork that was spotted anywhere in the city.

And even Kaz, who’s never had any particular interest in art, had to admit that it was nice. Flattering.

Beautiful, even.

"The Painter has their favorites, huh?" A Crow chuckled, making his mates laugh and shake their heads.

"If everyone's done having a staring contest with the wall," Kaz called, making everyone turn to their boss, "get back to work."

And just like that, they lost their interest in the artwork and dispersed. Some drifted away to different alleys to visit some gambling house, most passed by Kaz to finish some unfinished business of theirs, and others went back inside the Slat.

Kaz felt a familiar presence beside him. "Can you find this Painter, Inej?"

The Wraith that appeared out of nowhere replied, "I can try, but they're slippery."

Kaz rose an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. Someone who can evade his best spider? Now that caught his attention.

"Do it. Bring them to me," Kaz said, dismissing her with a wave. He didn't have to look to know that Inej had dissolved into the shadows.

He examined the mural once more, the barest ghost of a smirk on his face. Maybe you can come around to work for me, "Painter".

—————

You were having a good time.

If running away from some angry traders was something people would consider a good time.

"I'll kill you!" One of the men chasing you bellowed, hurling a stone that hit a wooden pillar dangerously close to your head.

You laughed, a manic cackle that only came from someone facing a certain death.

You leaped over crates, weaved through people with barely any gracefulness that would have made dancers feel second-hand embarrassment, but you didn’t care. Being chased around West Stave was one of the best things to do in Ketterdam, and you were enjoying every single bit of it.

You turned left into a random alley, only to find that it was a dead end. You looked upwards, but found only ladders that led to heavily-barred windows. You were trapped.

"Nowhere left to run, scum," A man laughed, his companion grinning as well.

You turned to flash them a charming smile. "Actually there is one way, but you're blocking it, so if you'd kindly move aside so I can peacefully make my leave."

They both looked at each other before turning back to you. "Not until we've got our money."

You pretended to think for a moment, not knowing what they mean, until you widened your eyes. "Oh! The money! That's what you were after? Why didn't you just say so?"

You rummaged through your deep pockets. "Here it is!"

You took a few quick steps forward and took out a spray can, squeezing it and drifting it over the closest man's eyes, creating a thick yellow line across his face.

The man yelled and stepped back in surprise, prompting you to catch his heel in yours and pull, making him fall.

You bent down to punch him twice before rummaging in his pockets, taking out a few loose coins and pocketing them.

You turned to face the other guy, who you found already on the ground with a figure standing above him.

The Wraith.

"Oh." Your gaze alternated between the sudden assistance and the man on the ground, before you decided to focus on the one standing and smiling at them. "Thanks for your help, Miss Wraith. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave —"

You turned, only for Inej to block your exit, making you sigh. "What is it that you want from me this time?"

"For you to come with me to the Slat," Inej responded, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the alley.

You sighed again. This was going to be a long day.

—————

"Look, if this about money, I don't have any. I'm very broke." You stared at the man sitting in front of you, a desk separating him from your standing figure.

The Bastard of the Barrel didn't respond to your statement, opting to just look at you, his eyes examining your movements.

You let the silence drain on for a few more seconds before you lost patience. "What do you want?" You asked, frustrated.

"You're the Painter," He responded, putting his elbows on his table and lacing his gloved fingers together.

You waited for a moment, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't continue, you replied. "Yes."

"Everyone in Ketterdam is aware of your reputation to leaking powerful people's information," Kaz finally continued. "But that's not what's interesting. What intrigues me, is how you acquire the information in the first place, when the Wraith has never spotted you out in the open other than spraying on some random wall."

You shrugged. You had your ways, and if the Dirtyhands didn't know your methods, then there was no way you could reveal them. "I have my ways."

Kaz rose an eyebrow. "I can have you killed right here and now, did you know that?"

"And I’ve gotten out of these chains three minutes ago, did you know that?" You mocked him, shrugging the cuffs off and tossing them on his table. Inej moved, pulling out a dagger. Kaz put up his hand, and Inej paused, waiting.

You approached the desk, putting your hands on it and leaning forward, leaving half a feet of space in between your face and Kaz's.

"You want to know my methods so you can have the Wraith master them and use them," you said, leaning a bit more. "But then she can't. No one in this place can do what I can."

"I suppose there's an underlying deal somewhere in those words," Kaz hummed, seemingly unfazed by the distance.

You grinned. "Indeed there is. I can work for you, as long as I get paid. I'll do my thing, get your information, even infiltrate a few places if you like."

"Hmm," Kaz thought about it for a moment. "Two thousand kruge for each mission."

You paused. That would be enough to buy your food and pay your rent for a week or two, maybe even enough for some new clothes.

Yeah, you didn't have that good or luxurious of a lifestyle, but hey, money is money.

"Alright," You decided, sticking your hand out to seal the deal.

Kaz stared at your hand for a moment, before taking it. You pulled him up from his chair, face now barely away from yours. "If you think about double-crossing me and leaving me out in the cold, then you risk some of your own information being revealed... Rietveld." Your voice was barely louder than a breath, words only for Kaz’s ear.

His eyes widened, looking at you. Just the mere mention of his old last name, the one he shared with his brother, was enough for the water at his ankles to pool around his knees.

But you had already pulled away, brushing against the Wraith with a nod as you left the office without another word.

"What was that?" Inej asked — more like demanded.

Kaz didn't spare her a glance, his eyes glued to the door. It took him a long pause to reply.

"The start of another painful alliance," Kaz muttered, running his hand through his hair.

The start of something indeed.

[janaknandini-singh999]

Now that Ram Mandir has been opened can I honestly share what I feel? No, I'm not on the side of the extremist Hinduism nor am I on the leftists I just want to take a neutral stand here.

To everyone saying it's just a political agenda and Modi is using Ram mandir to appease the Hindu vote bank. Yes, and? I think we all (even the Hindus) know what game he's playing here. My house was conflicted yesterday. My mother and nani (grandma) were sobbing on finally getting Ram lalla's darshan yesterday on TV, my nanu (grandpa) wasn't supporting any of it. And I was torn. Torn between celebrating a historic moment and rationalizing whether it even deserved to be celebrated. His return deserved to be celebrated yes but the extreme Hindus who shower flowers with one hand and with the other hand throw stones on innocent Muslims of today who never took away our beloved Ram ji away in the first place. Would Ram ji have wanted this? He would've wanted us to celebrate yes but not at the cost of harming others. I condemn the acts of discrimination against the minor sects of society, everyone who's got to suffer because of this. In Mahabharata too, the minority (Pandavas) had to go through hell but they emerged victorious in the end coz they were right. However, I'd also like to state that it's not that simple here. People calling out Islamophobia, I'm with you. People calling out Hinduphobia, I'm ALSO with you. All lives matter no matter if they are Hindu or Muslim or Christian or Palestinian. "Hinduphobia doesn't exist" It does. Ofc not at the scale of the terrifying Islamophobia in India but it does. In other Islamic etc countries, it does. Just like how Islamophobia exists in countries where Islam folk are in minority. But does that give Hindus a license to endorse and impose themselves any more than the colonizers and invaders did? No.

You can't blame innocent Muslims for what Mughal invaders did centuries ago any more than you can blame Vibhishan for what his own brother Raavan did. But whoever is on the side of wrongdoing no matter their caste, creed or religion is just as much of a criminal like Karna was with Duryodhana even though he was a Pandava by birth.

Yk I've grown up in my remote, countryside hometown where they play azaan in mosques every day morning and evening and kid me since then became so used to it that it would feel like something is missing if I'd not hear it in the background somewhere while swinging around near the trees or while just walking on the terrace and watching the distant sunset. I'm a Hindu but well, that's just personal nostalgia.

Not all muslims are terrorists. Not all Hindus are fascists. But for those who are, I'd let Karma take care of you all.

I stand with humanity.

Jai Shri Ram 🙏

Allahu Akbar 🙏

[daylighted]

please please please — john b x kook!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, kook!reader. john b in jail </3. it's cutesie though. sex mention, it's at the end so ... do w that what u will.

❛ please, please, please — don't prove i'm right! ❜

john b was so fucking stupid, turning himself in and letting himself be thrown in jail. who did that? you remember from growing up alongside them, throughout the years, both him and jj saying, and you quote, “never trust the fucking feds.” 

maybe it was just jj who said it — or at least meant it, with the way that john b scurried off and left. left. left you alone. 

the pogues had been to see him in jail already. you hadn’t. you didn’t want to. sitting in a dingy cell with a piece of glass separating them, having to talk through a phone like any of that was fair? no, you couldn’t do it. 

until you really, really started to miss him. his friends still hadn’t warmed up to you, so they weren’t very open to hearing your incessant rambling about what john b would be doing right now if he was here. what they thought he ate in jail that day ( jj said mush and mystery meat, and that was enough to halt your questioning for the day ). 

kie dragged you to the jailhouse that very next day. sit, she said, stay, like you were a dog. 

there was a buzz above the door on the other side of the glass, then the door pushed open, and there he was. face more stubbly than you’d ever seen it, hair a bit ratty, but god, his eyes were so bright, like seeing you was the best thing he’d experienced in a long while. 

you already have the phone to your ear. kie didn’t tell you to stay still, after all. 

“was waitin’ for you to show up,” he says into the receiver once he sits, lifts it. 

you lift your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. he doesn’t have to know you were dragged here because you were annoying his friends. 

“so, what’s jail like?” and your voice sounds so damn chipper, as if seeing him behind a wall of glass was just the norm. 

john b stumbles on a laugh. “why, princess? wanna join me in here?” 

“no,” you choke out, and now you’re laughing too. his laugh is so pretty. it deepens the dimples in his cheeks. “i don’t look good in orange.” 

“darlin’, you look good in everything,” he argues, “y’just don’t want to fuck up your nails in these cells.” 

he’s always known how to read you like a book. how were you supposed to get through this? 

“how do i get you out of here?” you ask, your eyes bouncing between the both of his, as if they held the answer to the world in their irises. 

“mmm,” he hums, his smirk softening slightly, “the short answer is that you don’t.” 

your manicured fingers curl into a fist. his eyes drop to it resting on the table, and he softens even more. “don’t do somethin’ stupid,” he whispers, the sound of it so cruelly muffled through the phone. 

“that’s jj’s job,” you try to joke. neither of you laugh. “we’re working on it. you know? we’re trying to… i don’t know, figure out something.” 

“oh, are you? all of you?” 

your eyes roll. “okay. they are.” your nails tap on the stone table, looking for something to keep your hands occupied so you don’t turn into a gushy sap. “they wouldn’t let me offer to pay your bail.” 

“handout money,” he tsks, “yeah, they wouldn’t do that.” 

“i’d do it though. i would.” 

john b’s mouth quirks in the corner again. “‘course you would. you miss me so bad you probably feel sick, don’t you?” 

you scoff. “i don’t.” 

it’s a lie. the truth is that he’s right. he’s not often right in relation to you or him; you weren’t about to let him get an ego trip now. 

john b laughs again, hearty and crackly through the phone’s speaker against your ear. “who am i gonna tell in here, princess? don’t act so tough all of a sudden.” 

he didn’t know that acting tough was the only thing getting you through this. your boyfriend was in jail. the entire town thought he was a murderer. they looked at you like the crazy girl who’d gotten seduced by the criminal. 

the only thing keeping you from crumbling was the ( albeit wary ) support of the pogues. the entire rest of outer banks had turned its back to you. 

“please don’t prove i’m right, john b,” you say after a long few seconds. “please don’t let me have a reason to worry about you in here. please, just— just know what you’re doing, not letting me help—” 

john b was already nodding by the time you finished. he kept his eyes locked on you, his lips in that infuriatingly soft smile he always wore when you were rambling, or sad, or rambling and sad.

“i know what i’m doing.” 

he sounded sure enough of himself that you feel a flood of relieved warmth wash over all of your senses. 

it doesn’t last, though. not with the twinkling sparkle in his eyes as he watches you. “now… y’think we could get away with a little phone sex in here?”

[battymommastuff]

The Accident (Pt. 2)

Batmom x Batfamily Prompt: At least you did something...

TW: VERY DARK!!!!

Part 1

"She isn't making any progress. We've tried everything from electroshock therapy to simply giving her a journal to write her feelings." 

You could hear your personal therapist talking to your husband...well ex husband by now. Your marriage died the day he put you in this damn place. What place? None other than Arkham Asylum. At first he could live with what you did, he understood what you did. Everyone understood why you did it, but what happened after...he couldn't live with it. 

Bruce watched as his wife shut down. You became a shell of what you once were. The warm, welcoming mother that everyone knew you to be died. Something cold, and sinister was left in her place. The Gotham criminals began to fear you more than Batman himself. Batman held back...he pulled his punches. You...you didn't. You couldn't. This life, the scum of Gotham took your son away from you. How could Bruce just sit there and be okay with it? 

Everything came to a boiling point when he walked into the manor with his newest sidekick, Tim Drake...

"Y/N, this is Tim Drake. He will be assisting us in our...work." Bruce said and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder. Instead of a warm greeting or a smile that one usually got when meeting Y/N Wayne, Tim got a stone cold glare. 

"Jason's grave isn't even covered in grass, and you're already replacing him?" You growled as you stood from your seat on the couch. Tim flinched at your tone, and moved back a bit. He heard such good things about you. This wasn't how he was expecting things to go. 

"Good job Bruce, get another kid...let's see how long he lasts before he's in the grave too." You spat before storming off. That night, you chose to go on patrol alone. While Bruce and Tim were doing their own thing, you were spending your night alone. As you sat perched on a ledge, watching the city that you've grown to hate, all you could think of was Tim. How could Bruce just move on so quickly? You weren't surprised. He spent most of that night scolding you and lecturing you for nearly killing the Joker. Now the bastard was in a coma, and you wished he was dead. 

The sound of a woman screaming knocked you from your thoughts, and you looked down seeing the said woman blocking her young child from an attacker. You don't know what happened at that moment, but something snapped. You weren't going to let another mother's heart be broken, or the child's. No more families were going to be broken because of scum like this. You blacked out again, and this time you came to be pinned to the brick wall by Batman. Robin was hovering over the man you'd just beaten. He pressed two fingers to his neck then looked at Batman. Robin shook his head, and then looked at you. Instead of horror, or remorse...you smirked, "At least I did something." You whispered to your husband. 

Now here you were, wasting away in the cells of Arkham. Eating food that was stale, and cold. It made you miss Alfred's cooking. Several inmates tried to gang up on you, and quickly learned why that was a bad idea. 

"The doctors are beginning to fear her. She's got a rage inside of her that can't be tamed. Whatever set her off...doesn't seem to want to fade away." Your therapist looked over at you, chained to the table that you were forced to sit at. Bruce clenched his jaw as he looked at you. You'd lost weight, and your face was sunken in. You looked half dead. 

"Then we'll find something new. I'm not giving up on her. If you can't help her, then I'll have to find someone who can." Bruce snapped. He knew that keeping you here would kill you in the end. You weren't made for a place like this. He wanted you home with him and Alfred. It was where you belonged. 

Little did he know that the solution to his problem was going to be solved...

It would be several weeks later, close to when visiting hours would end. You were sitting in your cell with your back facing the door when you heard it open. 

"Mom?"

That voice made your entire body go cold. Yes the tone was deeper, and a little gravely, but you knew that voice. The Gotham accent...it couldn't be anyone else. Slowly your head turned, and you nearly fainted when your eyes met the ones staring back at you...

To be continued...

(I know most wanted a pt.2 with Jason's reaction, but I got a little carried away lol. I promise I will make a pt.3 with his reaction!)

[str4ngr]

sing my lullaby [ keegan p. russ ]

m' so tired just wanna give him a smooch n cuddle

cw: none, fluff, civilian & fem!reader, keegan n' cute aggressions.

When Keegan gets home from deployment, his biggest present is nothing but the comforting warmth of your body. Clothed in his t-shirt that was too big for you, your body was sprawled across the bed, the sweet sight brought a warm smile to his face. In careful silence, he leaned his weight onto the bed, letting his knee sink into the plush sheets, adoring your drooling face of dreaming.

His hands are so cold, making you whine as his hands slip under his your shirt. Cold palms gently rub your belly as he curls into the crook of your neck, kissing the soft flesh. Soft murmurs leave your lips, words incoherent even in silence until your dry voice croaks into his hair,

"Keegan...?" Although cracked from sleep, in his eyes, your lips move like soft clouds of the heavens as they utter his name. Your voice too angelic to be speaking such cursed name of a war criminal, his husky voice hushs you softly, lulling you back to sleep as his arms weigh on your body like bulky stones. "Missed you."

The strings of his heart tighten, utterly infatuated with you. Such simple words, only two words, has his eyes burning as he stared at your closed eyes, unable to restrain the beam of affection the grew on his face.

"Missed you too, princess." His heart empties itself in silence as he leans his body on top of yours, chests colliding as he purrs into your skin in satisfaction, kissing the shoulder exposed by the collar of his shirt. Two hands in motion, one twisting your hair, even when you told him not to mess with it, the other gently caressing your tummy. He wants to crawl into your skin, nibble on your supple, silken skin until it's all he wants, because it is all he wants.

Warm turned cold as your voice rang with an irritated whine, lazily searching for the blanket. His smile only deepened with adoration, lips sluggish to kiss your cheek, the hand you saw as the bane of your bad hair days reached for the duvet. Warmth envelopes both of your figures, even so, your bodies stay interlaced, his hand returning to cup your head.

You murmur in your sleep again, an exhausted chuckle escaping Keegans lips as your hands rises to pet his hair. His face heats up, his vision blurry as he melts into you, his most cherished woman, as the urge of sleep overtakes him mind. Quiet arpeggios echo in his ear, rich sounds even with your dry throat. Still damp, your hands caressed his hair, working like a tender pacifier, soothing his aching body to join yours into the mindless azure of sleep.

He missed this, your voice, your soft hands. Keegan missed brushing his lips on your warm, supple skin, foolishly doing anything that you pleased. His body relaxed against yours, the weight of war rescinding from his strained shoulders. His hands paused, trembling in overwhelming love, heart rippling under the trained muscle across his chest as he pressed his nose further into your neck.

He wants to squeeze you in his arms until your head feels like it'll pop, he wants to memorize every millimeter of your perfect skin, he wants- needs to know every little of your body. He wants to pinch your cheeks until you squeal, wants to make sure eyes inch of your visible skin.

He sighs into your skin, mind numbing with your gentle tune that easily tamed his thoughts for the morning after, when he knew he could pinch and bite at you, even to your feigning of dismay, he knew you loved it.

Keegan knew you loved him, just as much as he loved you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

him.

directory 

[blackdollette]

"be my undercover lover." | spencer reid

summer bummer. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: bad things happened when you made friends with the enemy, so what would happen if you fucked him instead?

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator

criminal!female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.5k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, creampie

a flicker of lightning illuminated the dark alleyway as the storm continued to rage on.

a shaky breath exhaled your lungs as you took a long drag of your cigarette, the smoke providing you warmth as you leaned against the stone-cold wall. you pulled your dark hood over your eyes, watching as cars zoomed by the alley, their lights sparkling against the wet sidewalks.

raindrops cascaded down the material of your long black jacket, the cloak concealing your identity. it was extremely dangerous for you to be out in the open at this time, but you had needs that desperately needed to be attended to. you glanced at your jeweled watch, the long arm of the clock striking 2 in the morning. as if on cue, the dim lights of a car stopped right outside of the alley, followed by the sound of an individual stepping out and making his way inside.

you kept your head down, the dark figure appearing in your peripherals. he held an umbrella, warm brown hair blowing in the wind as he took slow steps toward you. you put out your cigarette, approaching him until you were mere inches apart. “h-hey… i made it.” spencer’s voice trembled, mostly from fear and chills. he was dressed in his usual suit and tie, a few stray drops of rain cascading down his jawline and trickling down his neck.

you pulled him deeper into the enclosed spot, checking to see if the coast was clear before taking off your hood, your striking eyes meeting his soft gaze. he used the umbrella to cover your head, then you smiled softly. “i didn’t think you’d make it.” he smiled nervously. “i’d never want to disappoint you, darling.”

his eyes immediately caught a glimpse of the priceless watch hiding under your sleeve and his heart sank. if word got out about a genius FBI agent hooking up with the city’s most feared and corrupt criminal, who knew what would happen to him or you? you were opposing forces, fighting against each other in a battle that had no end in sight. but you were the most good-looking delinquent he’d ever laid eyes on. you had him wrapped around your finger, just as he did with you.

as you two stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed to be an eternity, you pushed him against the wall, placing your hands on his chest as you pulled him into a needy kiss. his eyes fluttered shut as your smooth lips moved against his in an intimate act that hadn’t been committed in far too long.

the umbrella slipped out of his grip as his hands found your waist, pulling you into his body as he sloppily kissed you on your open mouth. your hands ran through his drenched hair, his grip moving to your hips as he fondled with the leather material of your tight skirt. he groaned deeply into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss as you whispered softly. “...did you miss me, spence..?” 

he nodded, panting as he pulled away for just a second. “s-so, so much, baby. you have no idea…” you had become his worst addiction. the dark succubus who kept him awake in the depths of the night, constantly yearning for you. you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and connecting your wet lips with his again. he grabbed your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against the opposite wall. your tongues fought a silent war as both your and his arousal got nearly impossible to hide. your thumbs trailed down his chiseled jaw, frantically moving down to unbutton his dress shirt.

you pulled away for a moment, your lips swelling from the intensity of the kiss. spencer panted, starting to kiss your neck and leaving a sloppy wet trail behind him, moving down your collarbones and stopping right above the lacy rim of your blood-red camisole top. he looked up at you, brown doe eyes glazed over with lust. you wrapped your legs around his waist, never wanting to depart from him.

he spoke with his voice growing hoarse, his throbbing cock pulsating against the restricting material of his dress pants. “c-can i have you, baby..? i need you, i just need you so bad…” though you usually loved to torture him like the heartless criminal you were, you were just as needy as him at this moment, if not more.

you nodded, feeling his boner rubbing against your soaking crotch. his eyes lit up at your approval. he tore off the thin fabric of the top with his gleaming white teeth, an action so effortlessly attractive that you bit your lip to prevent any sheepish noises from coming out. he freed your tits from the clothed prison, eyes widening at your erect nipples pointed directly at him.

he took one of your tits into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your stiff peak with a low groan. you tossed your head back, feeling heat pooling in your core from the stimulation. all the talking he did made him dangerously good with his tongue, a few simple flicks of it nearly pushing you off the edge.

he rolled his hips against you, his cock nearly tearing through the fabric of his pants. you reached a hand down to hastily unbuckle his belt, letting it fall to the wet ground with a metallic clang. you unbuttoned his pants and his cock eagerly sprung out, the tip rubbing against your clothed slit and making you gasp.

you slipped your panties to the side, grabbing spencer’s shaft and using the tip to play with your needy clit. he moaned into your chest, looking up at you with a pleading gaze. you swallowed hard, slowly putting him inside of you, inch by inch at a time. you gasped as he pushed his hips upward, forcing the remaining amount inside of you.

his chest rose and fell as he felt your tight, gummy walls clenching around you with such desperation. with both hands glued to your ass, he thrusted in and out of you, loud moans slipping from your glazed lips. spencer buried his head in your chest, hiding the tears that filled his eyes from the pleasure that came with being inside you once again.

there was a large price that came with having an affair with your enemy, but moments like this made everything worth it. he lifted his head to kiss you on the lips again, feeding his moans into your mouth as he fucked you at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against the wet, gooey base of your hole. his cock had a perfect curve that helped him hit your cervix with every moment, intentional or not. 

you moaned and whimpered in his mouth, the alley filling with sounds of skin slapping together and other lewd noises. your tight hole nearly crushed him alive as it convulsed around him, his balls tightening up as a familiar sensation coursed through his veins. despite the rain, your bodies were on fire. a blaze that would remain hot forever.

“cum for me, spencer… n-need to feel you inside me…” one billion words of protest filled his mind, but nothing would feel better than filling you up with his seed. his clean, organized thrusts began to lose their composure as his moans became harder to suppress. you thanked the heavens for sending this storm, or else you two surely would’ve been caught by then.  

his eyes filled with that haze of lust as he looked you right in the eye, his orgasm hitting him like a ton of bricks. he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood as he pushed you all the way down, his cock reaching your guts. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he filled you up like a sweet dessert, your hole swelling from the presence of his cum.

beads of sweat rolled down spencer’s forehead, his cheeks tinted with pink as he slowly set you back on the ground, your knees weak as you used the wall for support. “o-oh goodness, i-im so sorry. you told me to, y’know, a-and i just thou-” you interrupted his rambling with a deep kiss, your teeth hitting his for a moment as you tasted each other. 

you pulled away abruptly. “you talk too much, pretty boy.” his eyes were wide and hazy. he cleared his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. “s-sorry…” you looked up at the sky, the storm finally starting to clear. you rolled your skirt back down, using the torn remnant of your top to cover your exposed tits.

spencer’s eyes were glued to him. you looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. he quickly caught the memo, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. you nodded, pulling your hood back up and starting to walk back out of the alley. but his voice stopped you in your tracks. “i’ll really miss you, y’know that?” you turn your head, shooting him a half-smile. “i will too. until we meet again, my love.”

with that, you left him in the dark, disappearing into the night.

author's note: thank you all for blowing up my inbox last night!! i promise to get them all out as soon as I can.

[uno-san]

True to His Word (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Greetings! @princeasimdiya12 requested a special Aladdin Inspired short that was a delight to write! I didn't follow the prompt to the tee but I hope that you enjoy what I cooked up regardless. And to those in my inbox, have no fear! For YOUR 🫵 request might be next. Stay turned!

On dry and scorching days like this, traversing through a crowd of folk buying and selling wares was like a death sentence. Not only did the added body heat of the crowd make you dizzy but the added cramped space reminded you of the very prison you were trying to escape from. Your home. The palace to be more specific, but certainly where you grew up.

It was only from your place of privilege that you could call your position as princess a curse. Knowing that your life didn’t simply just hold fancy banquets that filled your belly or expensively imported fabrics from countries that most peasants couldn’t even conceive, it also held a role for you to play. A script that you shouldn’t dare stray from in fear of everything around you crumbling into nothing. The pressure of failing hundreds of years worth of ancestors.

You know. Easy responsibilities of a princess.

Perhaps that’s why as of late you’ve taken to finding your way out from behind the palace’s walls. Without protection of your family and city guard you could simply exist. Not practice another language, skills to attract a suitor, or bend under the will of your parents.

This was your chance, even for a few hours, to be free. With either being yourself or even discovering what kind of person you are without outside pressure. Even getting the chance to know the citizens that you will one day rule beside your partner was a gift that most royals often refuse.

Your attempts at rebellion had been successful only a few times which wholefully gave you a disadvantage when visiting a street market for the first time. Was it always this busy? Or was today a celebration of something far beneath your station that you weren’t even aware of it? Admittedly it did make you miss your palace servants. That pang of homesickness frustrated you after all that talk of freedom. Though perhaps old habits die hard.

“We have newly brought in dresses from our sister nation, for the low, low price of-”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables are available here! Straight from the ground and into your hands for the best prices. Fill your basket and get-”

“Offering trades for any one of my wares!”

Hearing one sales pitch after another was like hearing a cacophony of balls all at once. Maybe you were even being rung yourself as you struggled to walk without getting knocked around by someone far sturdier than you. The hustle and bustle of the market didn’t even allow you the chance to give apologies from the invasion of space.

Your heart raced with all the stimuli you had yet to grow accustomed to, pounding away at your chest as if you didn’t have enough things bumping into you already. It was nearly too much for a pampered princess. Almost. After all, if this is what the general populace have to deal with on a day to day basis, shouldn’t it be your duty to understand their plight on a more personable level?

Suddenly a hand shot through the crowd to grasp onto yours. The contact was enough to knock both the wind and confidence out of you before you were dragged out of the market and off your feet. Looking ahead to see who had grabbed you proved fruitless with everybody you were being brushed past. Even your cries of protest were outbid by the various merchants already calling for attention.

Have you been found out? Was it the guards? Or worse? Some criminal looking to make a big buck with the kidnapping of a princess. The thought made you pale. That, and the ever looming alleyway that you’ve just now realized you’re pulling into to get out of sight from the main streets of the open market. At least it wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Hey!” Your voice finally boomed in the stone alleyway, “I demand that you release me immediately or else I-”

You were shoved against the wall. Your shoulder blade nearly scratched against the coarse surface but a large hand covering your mouth stopped your wince of pain. Staring back into your wide eyes were a pair of brown ones that were dark and foreboding. The man had tanned skinned from days spent out in the sun while his long brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail that hung off of his shoulder. There was a roughness to the man that made you scared, yet…intrigued as the hand used to silence you lifted itself. In its stead the man raised a finger to his mouth for a ‘Shh’

Just outside where you two hid the sound of rushing footsteps dragged your attention to the source. In small groups were guards dressed in armor you could recognize from being from the palace. Your family’s personal colors. Not the city. Though they did not have their blades drawn they still traveled with an urgency.

“Gah, where did she go?” One voice growled while they skulked passed while seemingly not noticing or caring to check the alley you were hidden in, “Scatter and find her now.”

With a scattering of ‘Yes, sir’ the sound of their ever growing search became distant. You still held in your breath as your gaze cautiously slid back towards the stranger. His attention was still towards the entryway to the alley, leaving the positioning of the light streaming into cast harsh shadows across his face to highlight his sharp jawline. The sun nearly made his eyes glow gold.

In spite of the situation at hand you found yourself turned red.

Thankfully only an eternity passed before the man let out a sigh of relief and turned to address you, a wide grin nearly splitting his face in half while he allowed air to flow between your bodies again.

“That was a close one, eh?” He winked at you, “Saw them tailing ya for awhile now. Luckily your pal Stanley was here to help out or who knows what might have happened.” The man, now identified as Stanley, patted your shoulder before stepping out to the entrance to look both ways for any incoming trouble. “What’s got palace guards so hyped up about ya anyway? Must have stolen something good, or…”

His gaze swept back to your still bewildered form and hummed. Was he trying to judge your character at this moment? Or maybe even recognize you as the princess of this city and realize what a prize he’s just passed up.

The palm of your hands finally grew sweaty and you moved to wipe them off on the fabric of your cloak that hid a majority of your form, only allowing your finer curves to shine through. Had you really been so reckless? A part of you was beginning to understand your family’s paranoia a bit better.

“-princess?” “WHAT?”

Stanley gave you a look, “I said, ‘or pissed off the princess’ since you’re, well…y’know…attractive, or…” Now his own pause gave way for awkwardness. His eyes wandered to anywhere but your growing smile before he coughed, “Forget it. Anyways, I’ve got some stuff of my own to attend to so I gotta get-”

“Thank you,” You politely interrupted, raising a hand to tuck away a strand of hair when a ray of light hit the golden bracelet wrapped around your wrist. It had been a gift from your family last year for your birthday and since then you’ve hardly taken it off, even with your peasant disguise. Again he began to stare so you quickly added, “You didn’t have to go to the trouble of helping me out, but you did. I hope to one day pay you back.”

“Oh, pffft, don’t worry about it! Besides, the street trash has to stick together, don’t we? We’re a rare species, me and you.”

‘You and I’, you internally corrected.

He stepped forward with an arm outstretched to wrap around your shoulders, guiding you further into the alley without much resistance from you. Though he did not draw you in, Stan did take charge in what was soon becoming a casual stroll through the streets. Every now and then you’d catch him eyeing your surroundings as if more palace guards would jump from the shadows at any moment to drag you away once and for all.

“Listen…How about your pal sticks around for a bit longer? You might be a rat like me but I can tell you’re new to these streets. I’ll just keep an eye on ya. Make sure the heat has gotten off your back.” Again he winked.

You blushed in return and you caught his grin from the corner of your eye while you glanced away to gather yourself, “At any point should I be worried about you as my guardian?”

“Eh, was gonna rob ya at the end of the night so you’ll be fine ‘till then!” The uproarious laugh that followed afterward made you join in with your own, though not as powerful as Stanley’s.

__

The two of you conversed for a long while. At first it was mainly comprised of Stanley telling jokes that you’d have to either genuinely or politely laugh at, or he’d take his time telling a daring story of some petty theft he’s done in the past with an excitable gleam in his eye. Having no actual street experience of your own you did your best to contribute to the conversation with a few embellished stories of your own.

Though the mood remained light you did catch the occasional glance of Stanley actually trying to take care of you. Either with keeping an eye down the path you both walked, or drawing you into his side in a near embrace when somebody brushed past you to attend to their own business. You felt selfish in relishing in the attention. Especially when you had loathed the same sort from your family.Yet despite all of his talk, Stanley still felt so…safe.

Eventually a silence fell between the two of you that was only filled with the soft dragging of your shoes against the paved ground beneath you. With the sun beginning to fade away you could also just faintly hear the chirp of the bugs that came out at night. It was the exact sort of peace you were hoping to find outside of the palace.

Stanley broke the silence first, “So, ever plan on telling me why?”

“Hm?” You cocked your head.

“The guards,” He reminded you, “Why were the palace guards chasing ya?”

Choosing not to respond straight away you kept your gaze fixated on the ground, drawing in air from between your teeth. You’ve had all this time to come up with a lie. Had you been so preoccupied in his presence that basic safety wasn’t a priority? In the face of your silence Stanley fell out of step with you, instead standing with a stern look in his eye that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

“Don’t try and tell me ya stole something. Else they would have made a ruckus when they found ya, but they didn’t. They tailed instead.” The thoughtful expression he held felt almost unfitting on the man you hardly knew, “Not that I’m paranoid or anything, but-” “THERE SHE IS!” Before the shock could even hit your system Stanley was dragging you behind him again. This time you were able to scramble on your feet faster than before. The peaceful sounds of the night were replaced by the pounding of your heart in your ears. Glancing over your shoulder you could just make out the silhouettes of your pursuers who were hot on your tail.

Stanley’s attention remained ahead. He’d take you left from right without a moment's thought as to where the two of you were actually headed. That became abundantly clear when Stanley finally made a wrong turn. A dead end that branched off to another dead end filled with discarded crates from shipments long past. You heard him curse beneath his breath before trying to find an alternative route. It was too late.

Sensing that the jig was up you unceremoniously placed your foot on the curve of Stan’s ass, shoving with all your might to kick him back into the alley and plummeting into the boxes below. He was left swearing from the fall while you hurried to smooth out your outfit as if to suggest you hadn’t done anything wrong by evading the guards all day who, at this point, managed to catch up to you.

You stepped forward to the clearly out of breath party to stop any perceptive eyes from spotting Stanley. The leader of the pact, whom you unfortunately did recognize, was the first to step forward. Not with a sword in hand but a furrowed brow. “Princess,” The man emphasized as if to ensure Stanley heard, “You’ve been fleeing from us all day. Do you have any idea how worried your parents are?” His tone was polite despite the venom hiding behind it. He didn’t like playing babysitter for someone like you.

“I apologize for making you run around all day. I was being selfish for wanting some outside air. Your dedication in doing so however will be rewarded by my father,” A part of you truly did feel sorry, and prayed that your politeness would soothe over what was sure to be a fight the moment you stepped behind palace walls. When he didn’t reply right away you bit the inside of your cheek.

His eyes must have burned themselves into your soul before he faced away from you. Immediately he began to bark orders to his still recovering guards. Secure a path to the castle, inform his royal blaah, blah, blah blah, blaaaaah…

You were back to being a treasure to protect. Without voice or opinion. For having people’s lives revolve around you it felt like a karmic justice to have none of your own. Deciding to play further into your role you folded your hands into each other, offering no opinions or comments. It would have been infuriating if you weren’t given the opportunity to slide your gaze towards the branching off alleyway where you had kicked Stanley into.

Stanley’s presence nearly made you gasp aloud as you had expected him to have abandoned you long ago. While he still made an effort to hide from the sight of your guards you could barely make out his head poking out from between boxes. It appeared he had time to process the reveal of your status as a princess as his face had a clear look of ‘Really?’

There was an almost embarrassment to it as well, considering all that he had to say about you earlier. Yet in spite of the fear that you would retaliate against such behavior he still stayed. From the shadows he made an obscene gesture that made you giggle and cover your mouth, your bracelet clattering soundlessly against your-

Soundless?

Your eyes snapped to your bare wrist that sported a light tan line. Immediately you search the area around you in the hopes of a light reflecting back from its metallic band. A soft whistle dragged your attention back to Stanley who had swirling on his finger-

Your bracelet.

His grin was infectious as you soon copied it. The bracelet may have been a gift yet it wasn’t one to be robbed with abandon. You had many more like it back at home.

Stanley winked at you while taking a step back into the shadows, out of reach of both the guards and you with each passing second. It was just as you heard the murmurings of your group beginning to prepare for their trip back that you noticed Stanley mouthing to you before he was gone himself, “Told ya so.”

[p0orbaby]

Laugh in the Face of Mercy

Summary - Smallfolk and lords alike fear the malice and wrath of their queen and her loyal knight. But little do they know that behind closed doors, the ruler of their kingdom is nothing more than a common whore

Warnings - smut 18+, fingering, orgasm denial, dom!reader, sub!wanda, language, mentions of violence and murder, jealousy, alcohol consumption

Authors note - I didn’t realise how much I missed writing royal au’s! Also I have no clue when I need to capitalise queen so don’t judge me

Word count - 2.9k

Navigation | Wanda Maximoff Masterlist

No one knew whose blood last left its stain on your sword.

There was a theory, folklore, that the steel had seen the insides of almost all of the people the queen seemed to show distaste for.

The prisoners who were once held in the cells below the castle were the most tame of her choices for execution. It wasn’t part of your duties to end the lives of petty criminals before trial, but it also wasn’t your duty to deny the queen of her requests.

With each swing of your sword towards the neck of a lawbreaker, the hiss and moans of the crowd watching grew louder with vexation. But when steel inevitably meets skin, the only sound to be heard in the execution square is the dull thud of a loose head hitting the floor and the drip of blood off of the end of your blade.

You’d grown numb to the ridicule. The people of the city had coined you The Rogue Wielder. No one was ever sure as to when silver would become red. It wasn’t the myths of old that children's parents warned them about, it was the queen and her loyal servant with a brand strong enough to shatter bones.

Yet even being at the centre of the most repugnant legend in recent history, the intentions of your monarch was something that, on rare occasions, even had you disputing her intentions.

A tense council meeting had just been adjourned when the queen gave you an instruction that had her questioning your loyalty for the first time.

“I’m sorry Your Grace but I won’t do it” your stern voice echoed off of the stone walls of the now empty council chamber.

“My apologies, but maybe you have gotten your position confused”. Even with her back to you you could imagine the look on her face. Eyebrows turned down to a scowl. Lips practically snarling at the prospect of being questioned.

“I’m very aware of my role at court, but my abilities do not extend to killing lords just to rid you of a headache, my queen”

“This is not a matter of asking you for your opinion. I’m giving you an order and I am expecting you to fulfill it”

“On what grounds would you have me murder Lord Stark? He looked at you the wrong way during a tourney? He drank too much of your wine at the banquet you hosted a moon ago?”

She finally turned around at your words. Green eyes met yours with an intensity you only saw when you looked into the flames of a hearth on cold nights. Yet even behind her angered gaze, you saw the vulnerability of a woman you only get to experience behind closed doors.

“He threatens my rule. He’s trying to worm his way to my side and take control of my kingdom”

“Stop being ridiculous, Wanda. A request to court you is no reason to chop off the man’s head! You bellow. “If he wanted to take the throne from underneath you he would have already marched on The Capital with his army. Which I will remind you is larger and better equipped than our own”

“I’m not scared of his wealth. Don’t treat me like a fool who doesn’t know the ins and outs of royal conflicts”

“There is no royal conflict as of present. But once Starks head is free from his body, his bannermen will descend upon the city like a forest fire in a drought”

“That is a risk that we will be more than willing to take”. Her comment was said with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

“We?”

“Me and you, my knight. You did pledge fealty to me did you not?”

-

In the following weeks a plan was devised. The alliance of the houses of Maximoff and Stark. It was nothing more than a financial bond, and perhaps down the line any heirs Wanda may produce would marry the heirs of Lord Antony. Well that’s what he and his house believed at least. Because how could a man without breath in his lungs produce heirs?

The dinner to celebrate was held in the Great Hall and it was grand to say the least. The heads of all the great houses had gathered for the festivities in droves, so much so that there was hardly any space to move let alone get a chance to get close to Stark.

But maybe the dense crowds could work to your advantage. The swing of a sword would not fare well in such intimate settings. Yet other means of executions could go unnoticed at times like this. Many called it the woman’s weapon. A cowardly way to kill someone. However, ending the life of someone without having laid a finger on

them didn’t seem cowardly at all.

“Frown a little harder Y/N, you’re not spoiling the mood enough” Wanda’s words were slightly slurred. She had had a fair few cups of wine thus far and there probably wasn’t any intention of her stopping.

“Forgive me my queen but I am in fact trying to conjure a plan to see your request through. Unless you’d want to do it yourself?”

“I would but you would become redundant then wouldn’t you? But I will say I’m a little confused as to why I can see Lord Stark standing. Dead men can’t stand now, can they? Or have the maesters made a breakthrough?”

“Not that I’m aware” you responded sarcastically. “But after tonight they can use his body for experiments perhaps. Look at his brain and conclude as to why he acts like a complete and utter twat”

Wanda snorts beside you. Laughing slightly despite her words. “Careful, you don’t want people to hear what you're saying. Yes, I am Queen, but if people find out I’m executing lords and ladies apropos of nothing, then the city may actually prepare an uprising. Petty criminals are fine, affluent individuals not so fine. Either way, you’ve had a change in tune”

“What do you mean?” You question. Head turning from where your eyes were carefully scanning the crowd.

“Before, when I asked you to do this, you were hesitant. Almost hostile. Yet now you are practically gagging to get your hands around his weasely little throat”

You hummed in agreement. “Perhaps I’m just as concerned about his intentions as you are. If he tries to take the throne, he also takes something from me too”

“And what would that be, brave knight?” She asks, her green eyes looking up at you innocently from where she sat. Cheeks pink for alcohol. Lips plump and ready to be kissed.

You leant down to reply this time. You would happily let the other members of court hear you rant about your disdain for Anthony. But you wanted to keep this particular topic between you and Wanda.

“Isn’t it obvious? You whisper. “It’s something small and pretty, has lovely auburn hair and gets wet everytime I get anywhere near it”

The smirk on your queen's face only grew wider as she brought another cup of sweet wine to her lips as you rose to your full height once more.

-

It was chaos.

Everyone was scarpering like ants near water. Congestion bottlenecking at the only exit to the door, a flurry of silk and screams bellowed through the hall.

Poison, said the Grand Maester. Frothing at the mouth, bloodshot eyes, burst veins leaking from the nose.

Poison. You could’ve told him that.

The queen did an apt job at being aghast. Her fingers trembling as you pulled her through the back entrance of the Throne Room. Leading her through corridors only used for the reigning monarch and small council members.

Only when you were safe in her quarters did she let up. Shoulders relaxing and back straightening. It was chilling to watch. How she could go from one extreme emotion to the next without even so much as a blink.

“You killed someone for your queen today” she stated like it wasn’t the most obvious thing. “I think that deserves a reward of some kind, don’t you?”

“Well that all depends on what you’ve got in mind for a reward. Like you said yourself, I’ve killed for you tonight. Perhaps you should let me choose?”

The flame from the mounted candles made Wanda’s eyes glitter. Like the sunset over a field of green. Light dancing and twirling in pools of vibrant colour.

She didn’t even speak. Your answer was given to you in way of action. She started to unfastened her dress with deft fingers. Slowly pulling loose the laces of her corset.

You’d fully intended to sit back and watch her unwrap herself for you. Relish in her removing layer after layer of expensive silk and linen, but when the last string was slack and the front of her bodice opened revealing soft, pale flesh, your mouth couldn’t help but water.

Your gloved hands flexed at your sides as you tried to stay calm. Itching to get your palms on her. Needing to feel her skin underneath your calloused fingers.

“Are you sure you still want to choose?” She teased, shrugging her shoulders, letting the dress fall to the ground in its entirety.

“You’ve been bare underneath the whole evening?”

She chuckled at your question. Of course she had. When would she have found the time to rid her undergarments? She didn’t want to miss the show. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wanda moved slowly around the room. Displaying herself. Showing you want you’ll get if you keep up your good behaviour.

“I didn’t tell you because you get like this. Lust driven and manic. I needed you to complete a job first” she poured some wine out of the decanter, left for her on the solar table. “Your vision gets blurred at even the smallest notion of you being able to get your fingers wet”. She hid her smirk behind the lip of her cup.

If anyone else heard their queen talk in this manner it would come across as jarring. Impolite even. But it only made you love her more. That she was able to have a poisoned tongue around you and not be in fear of judgment.

“Is that my reward then? Being able to get my fingers wet?”

“Perhaps”

You were starting to lose your patience. She knew what she was doing. She’d rile you up, tease you enough so you’d break and have your way with her. Rough and animalistic. She was a queen to the realm, in her quarters she was nothing but a whore for you.

The soles of your boots clicked against the stone floor as you walked towards her, taking the cup of wine from her hand when you could. Draining its contents in one swig.

“Get on the bed,” you demanded. And when she didn’t move, “now. I won’t ask you again”

The flames in her eyes now swam in a sea of black. Green completely gone, other than a sliver around the edges. Defiance seemed to turn her on.

“Fine, have it your way”

In one swift movement your hand swept the tray holding the wine jug and extra cups off the table. Causing them to clatter and smash against the floor. Dark red liquid spreading over the stone like blood from a wound.

Then, with nary a gasp, Wanda’s body was forced to the table. Strong hands wrapping around the back of her neck and pressing into her lower back to ensure she didn’t run. She never would. But just to be certain.

You couldn’t see her face in this position, but you knew her cheek was flat against the table. Her muffled, incomplete words confirmed it.

“May I remind you that manhandling me is punishable by death”

There was no time for her to answer before you removed a hand from her waist to use it to stroke her behind. The walls doing a good job in having the sound echo around the room once your palm connected with her supple flesh.

“And what does spanking The Queen get me then, hm? You can’t kill me twice I’m afraid”. You gave her another smack as she tried to move out of your grip to turn and look at you. “Besides, it looks like I've made the decision for both of us. I’ve chosen to take you over the table. Then in the window so whoever happens to look up will get an unforgettable sight of their queen getting fucked. Then, if I haven’t had enough of you, I’ll take you on the bed. Fast or slow, that depends on if you do what I say. Understand?”

Finally she relents and nods. You release her, eyeing her closely for any indication she might move. There’s none, so you proceed.

You start by taking off your own clothes. Still in your armour, you unclip each piece from the next and place them gently on one of the sofas behind you. It was an item most precious to you, so as soon as they were placed upon your back you deemed they would not be scratched by anything other than a blade.

You looked over your shoulder cautiously, to make sure Wanda was still doing what she was told. The twitch of her fingers against the oak of the table fingers told you she was doing everything in her being not to look. Annoyed that she can’t watch you strip the way you did her.

Your linens were the last to come off. Tunic still slightly damp with sweat from the quick exit you made from the Great Hall. Breaches flooded with hot want caused by Wanda’s excessive teasing and disobedience. They were quickly ripped from your body and thrown in a heap on the floor, letting your tacky skin breathe.

“Look at you” you mocked. “Look at you being a good girl. Bending over all proper for me”

You pressed your body into hers. Your hips rocking against her behind slightly, praying to release some of the pressure building low in your belly.

“I don’t like waiting,” she gritted. Impatience getting the better of her.

“And I don’t like it when you talk to me like that”. Your hand reached down and wrapped her hair around your wrist and yanked. Her torso arching head pulled back, revealing the pale taught skin of her neck. Ready for I be vandalized with your teeth and tongue. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

You could see Wanda’s lips turn up into a smirk. She was enjoying this, you realised. Enjoying the torment, the tease, the handover of power. And you enjoyed it too. So much so you didn’t give her time to answer before you plunder your callused fingers into her.

“Gods,” she whimpered.

“The gods aren’t going to help you now. I gave you ample time to be polite about this. You ruined it. And now I’m going to ruin you”

You curled your fingers as you spoke. Hitting the spongy spot inside her that you knew made her vision blur at the edges. Her legs lifting so her calves were tight and her heels were off of the cold stone floor.

She was warm, and wet. Just as you had hoped. The perfect combination for you to thrust into her with pace. Fingers finding little resistance as they buried deep within her, making her moan.

“That's what you wanted, hm? To be fucked. Degraded. My little whore”

She nodded. Her hair becoming a mess over her face. You couldn't have that now, could you? Your left hand remedied that by wrapping her hair around your wrist and pulling. Her body bending backwards, curling off the table with the force of her taught hair pulling at her scalp.

“Fuck, Y/N” she breathed. Whimpered, almost.

“You're taking me so well” you praise. “Like your pussy was made to wrap around my fingers”

A cry spilled from her lips as you added a third finger. Stretching her out even more. Pushing her closer to the edge as each thrust of your hand had her hips knock against the hard surface beneath her.

“Please” she begged. The crack in her voice just as uncharacteristic as the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I'm so close, let me cum. Please”

“Please? You think that's all it's going to take for me to give you what you want?” You scoff. “One little word in exchange for your release?” In seconds you pulled your fingers from her. The change had the queen fall forwards and let out a frustrated sob. “You think you can tell me what to do? Not in here. Not with this”

It was cruel really. But you were enjoying teasing her. Loving the way she became weak in the knees for you. How it drastically compared to her public persona.

I pledged my fealty to you, that is true”, you continued, stalking around the room. Torturing her as your footsteps got closer then further away once more. “But I think you may have gotten your position confused”. The words that mirrored hers rolled off of your tongue, like oil in water. “Queen you may be, but I own you. My sword is yours, but your pussy is mine. Do you understand?

She nods, then says “I understand”.

“Good, now go and stand in the fucking window like a good girl”

Maybe it wasn't the stories about your bloodied sword the common people needed to worry about. But your ability to bring the realms deadliest monarch to her knees with just your fingers.

Though you doubt the bards will sing of the nights Queen Wanda moaned your name, but of the injustices you were willing to commit while you screamed hers.

Taglist

General Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @jromanoff @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @marrymemcgrath @smileyromanoff @rice-wiife @homiesexyall @wanda-is-my-joker @wackymcstupid @when-wolves-howl @sayah13 @lesbicentism

W.M Taglist: @olsensnpm @anaaam @wandsmxmff

[sitp-recs]

Hullo! I was wondering if you have any good recs for extremely magically inclined Draco or Harry? Or both? Like they exude badass, and they are in awe of each other. Maybe with a hint of morally grayness? I've ran through quite a few tags of the like and have deeply enjoyed them and was wondering if you had a few goodies.

Hi anon! I definitely got a few recs for you, some with morally gray characters as a treat 🙌

Powerful Harry:

Under Pressure by VivacissimoVoce (M, 21k)

Harry Potter has quit magic and left the wizarding world. Draco, a top-notch Tracker, has been hired to find him and save his life.

And One To Play by @tackytigerfic (E, 21k)

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are the best team in the Auror Department, even when they're driving Gawain Robards up the wall. When Malfoy is injured on a mission, it causes Harry's magic to go haywire. Meanwhile, a mysterious criminal is draining people's magical cores and turning them into Squibs.

If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)

Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Powerful Draco:

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks (E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

The Foxing Ring by @vukovich (E, 24k)

Harry's got no magic, one good ear, no great dating prospects, and a nice little wand workshop. Draco's got too much magic, a history of biting off ears, no great dating prospects, and a growing fondness for wandmakers. And a very fetching tail.

A Pocket Full of Stones by @amywaterwings (E, 68k)

A curse is spreading through the wizarding world, erasing memories of the war. Harry Potter is on the case! Where Draco is the DMLE’s most wanted dark wizard and Harry is the private investigator tasked with bringing him in. It goes as well as one might expect.

Threshold by @kbrick (E, 126k)

Unspeakable Draco Malfoy finally gets his chance to consult with the Auror Department when a series of mysterious doors covered in runic symbols appear all across the country, only to fade away minutes later. Draco’s eager to help solve the mystery of the doors until he’s partnered with Harry Potter, who still treats him like an enemy.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 150k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

[saltofmercury]

"A cycle"

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

A/N: Originally was going to make it back to spring but I lost the energy. Also excuse the indent I lost my page break and could NOT insert it due to lack of patience!!!

Words: 2k

Summary: You meet Jason again... but he's a little off. Brief mention of AK! Jason.

It’s been roughly 10 years. 

—Almost 11 since you lost him. You remember his last words spoken, 

“I’ll see you… unless death comes first.”

Gloom had surrounded the city, it was supposed to be another normal day. But you started to get worried when he never called. Days trailed on and you assumed he stood you up. 

Your life is at a standstill, you missing your other half, your best friend. It isn’t until you get the news and the invitation to a funeral.

Death came first.

Days turn into months, years. 

The numbness never goes away, it just settles into your stomach, carefully simmering until it boils throughout your body, releasing—erupting emotion of him on the anniversary of his death.

Some days are harder than others and when you finally think you can go a day without thinking of 

“Unless death comes first—“

the universe throws you another curveball.

He arrives on a spring day, almost re-birthed and renewed. 

He stands at his gravesite. Taller and broader. Your stomach twists and bile rises up your throat. But you tell your brain it's not real, you manage to count the petals on the daisies you’re leaving.

You stare up at him again, the wind knocked out of you. He’s breathless and pale, staring back at you. He’s got scars all over his face—including the shape of a J under his eye. His t-shirt hangs low on his collarbones and you can see scarring there too. His hair is longer, almost touching his eyebrows. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He says stone faced.  His eyebrows are knit together. Hoping you remembered what he promised.

You’re frozen, almost sick to your stomach. Bile is prominent on your tongue and this hallucination has taken over.

He can tell you don't believe him and he grabs your hand and places it on his face.

“It’s me, I'm here. I’m still here.”

He’s so much taller than you remember. 

His face aged and his eyes have turned green. There’s a new white streak in his hair that is so prominent. 

And he scowls now. It's like his lips have permanently stayed down.

You never know what to say to him. Where to pick up where you left off. He follows you home, like a stray dog. Loyal to his core. Loyal to you at least.

He never tells you what he’s up to these days.

You do have a clue. 

It’s not rocket science to place him and the Arkham knight together. It’s almost impossible to walk at night without becoming a victim outside. You’ve caught a glimpse of the man that strikes fear all over the city.

It’s not Robin in that suit.

You never bring it up. Assumptions linger.

He tries to fall back into routine with you. He still sleeps on his side of the bed. He still makes your coffee in the morning. Rubs your back at night, and settles into the crook of your neck. But it never turns into anything more.

When you bring up what you guys are, he shrugs it off, plays dumb. 

Did he come back worse? Or are you just sensitive?

There’s a time you remember when all he wanted was to be called your boyfriend. Say it loud, hold hands in public. But even then there were rules. It was kept a secret just between you two.

Now there’s a protectiveness to him, he’s sealed off from you. Tells you —

“We’re good at this. We’re good friends.” But even he doesn’t mean it.

Jason doesn’t want you to know what happened to him. He despises pity. He should’ve told you where he was going that night. He should’ve left a tracker with you.

It’s been years and the minute he was revived from the pit his brain told him Bruce but his heart told him to come back to you.

The pit also intensified his anger. He’s angry at the world. Angry that he’s been placed in this piece of shit city where the same criminals and sociopaths linger around every corner. Shit, he died a couple years, came back, and these same criminals are still here.

Nothing changes in this city. So maybe it’s time he changes it himself.

There's broken walls and broken dishes every time you come home. You think about leaving but he switches up. It's a sick game of hot and cold.

The days are longer and warmer now. There’s a humidity that surrounds the city and sunsets take your breath away. You come home exhausted from work. Your phone pings nonstop, your head pounding, cars and people outside your window are blaring.

He can sense your anxiousness. Your body language is limp. He can watch you chew your lip until it’s bright pink. He walks towards you grabbing your body with both arms towering over you.

“How about we sneak off, just you and me?”

He says with such intensity in his eyes that you feel the heat boil thick inside your stomach. 

He cowards you in until your back hits the wall. The coolness of it gives you goosebumps. He grabs your chin and then runs his hand down your hair, twisting at the ends.

“What do you say?” He says again, a little more agitated that he needs to convince you. 11 years ago you would’ve just said yes.

And maybe this time you’ll say yes…

“Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere that’s not here.”

He’s so certain you’ll say yes. He’s already thinking of setting this entire city on fire and restarting a life with you. A life where you don’t beat around the bush and you come home with a smile for him.

But you don’t. It’s not enough for you. There’s so much tension in the room. You say you need a bath and a nap.

He lets you go instantly, walking towards the balcony and slamming the sliding door.

You don’t even know him anymore. You dance around each other.

On the balcony he takes 3 deep breaths, then another 2, then another 4 until he realizes he’s on the verge of tears and he wishes he could just tell you the shit that’s in his head.

He sees how you eye him, nervous and on edge. He barely takes his shirt off around you because the thought of his autopsy scar disgusts him and he can’t have you be disgusted with him.

There’s so much hate in his heart. There’s so much violence that he beats the shit out of his henchmen and resorts to putting bullets on anyone he can’t trust.

He hears the water running when he enters the living room again. There are sobs coming from the bathroom and now he feels even worse.

He came back a monster.

Splashes of orange and red surround the skyline. Temperatures drop and the leaves crunch beneath you. You’re both home tonight. You’re so happy. The luxury of being in his presence at this hour. He tells you he can take a day off for his girl.

His girl. 

The nickname raises goosebumps on your arm to your shoulders. He’s changed a bit. He stays home more. Doesn’t leave you hanging as much.

After some take-out, you sit on the couch deciding to pick a movie. One of his hands curls up your spine to the nape of your neck, as the other scrolls down the movie list. His fingers play with the loose hair that won’t fit into your bun.

He knows you hate it. Especially when he starts to call it a little rat tail.

You peer over at him, slightly nervous. He knows what you’re going to say, but before you even open your mouth he cuts you off—

"What? I like it." 

His head inches closer to your neck, placing small kisses down your earlobe to your collarbone. The prickles of your skin now rise over your chest. 

“And I know you like it too.” He taunts into your ear. He’s pushing you back towards the couch, peeling your legs open with one of his. Both arms are above you, enclosing you.

His lips graze yours, you can smell the sweetness of the strawberry drink he had.

You inch closer, closing your eyes, but before you know what his lips taste like�� he's up again, pulling a jacket and mask over himself and slamming the front door shut.

Tears cloud your vision. It’s always one step forward, two steps back.

The tv plays an interview with some citizens gushing over the new Robin. 

You know who’s under the Arkham knight. Telling him to either come clean or leave you alone.

The replacement hurts more than he thought. He was abandoned, forgotten, then replaced. There was no mourning. Jason thought he would at least be mourned.

It rains one night and your car won’t start. The tow truck service won’t be here for another two hours and there’s a flash flood warning for your side of the city. You stare at your phone, your finger hovering over his name. 

“This is only strictly for emergencies” his voice clouds your memory.

You dial.

“Sweetheart?” He picks up, tense on the other side.

“I-I.. hi. I know you said this was only for emergencies but my car won’t start and there’s a lot of downpour. Can you come get me?” You feel yourself flushed, embarrassed, and tired. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him.

“I'll give you a ride, don't worry. I’ll be there in 10.” 

You don’t even question how he knows your location but sure enough in 8 minutes there’s a motorcycle revving down the street from where you are. It stops in front of your car. 

He gets off the bike, knocking on the passenger side of your car. You unlock it and he climbs in. His side of the car bounces and sends waves throughout your car.

He pulls the red hoodie down. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a new shade of green. 

“You ready?” He asks gleefully 

“I’m not getting on that thing Jason.” Your head nods towards the bike in front of you.

He laughs. It’s one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear. The crinkles set around his eyes and how wide and toothy his grin gets.

“Why not?” He asks, the smile lingering on his lips.

“You know why.” You respond curtly. 

“You want to get home don’t you?” He leans in toward you, eyebrow raised.

He gets so close to you that you can feel the warmth he radiates. He’s nicer these days, less moody. He’s a lot more rested too.

“Come on, there’s nowhere safer than the back of my bike.” 

And you know it’s true. 

The safest place would be with Jason.

It still doesn’t comfort you knowing it’s pouring and he zooms in and out of traffic with no care.

“No, it’s raining outside and that thing only has two wheels!”

He laughs a little harder now. He shakes his head.

“Fine. We’ll stay until the tow truck shows up.” His hand finds yours as he reclines in your passenger seat. You recline too, watching the sunroof get hit with water droplets. His fingers rub circles around your wrist.

These days you’re not as tense around him. You shuffle in your seat to get a better look at him. 

His eyes are closed. The scar under his eye is fading, and the white streak in his hair is more prominent. 

“You’re staring” he says, opening one eye to look.

“I can’t help it.” You shrug. 

He turns towards you. Wrist still his hand, he pulls you over on top of him. You settle yourself, nestling your nose in the crook of his neck. He finds your neck and places kisses down your collarbone.

He stops. Pulls your face close to him. Hands encasing your face and he stares deeply into your eyes. It’s almost so unsettling you try to count the eyebrow hairs on his right brow.

“I’m sorry for...” He says quietly, trying to find an answer in your eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He pulls your chin in between his fingers and kisses it softly.

“I’m trying to be better, and I know I can be… difficult. But I’m going to try harder.”

It’s the most he’s said to you all these months. He sounds like he means it. You peer down at his lip, caught underneath his top lip.

“Okay?”

You nod. 

A light halos above you. Jason gets out to talk to the man. He turns back to you — the helmet is snug on your head. Your stomach does somersaults as the rain and wind blow past you.

You hope that these changes come soon.