#I could’ve taken it a step further

[banefort]

something something giggly tormented nymphomaniacs whos downfall is aided by their jilted dyadic counterpart

[diorchids]

BACKYARD BARBECUE, SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY.

— dadsbestfriend!simon, age gap (r is 19-20), size kink, fingering, p in v, praise kink, choking, bruising, nipple sucking, nipple play, outdoor sex, tummy bulges.

you knew he was coming. 

simon is your father's best friend, the two met while stationed. you’d met him enough times to call him an uncle, about a year ago, getting more and more comfortable with him as the months passed.

your skirt billowed in the slight wind, the sun shone as you spoke to family. 

you heard your father chuckle before seeing simon, a few words being exchanged before he made his way over to you. 

he’s taken a liking to you out of all your siblings, making this extremely obvious to you just by the way he treats you. he gets closer to you and immediately hugs you, taking in your smell and planting his large hand on your back.

“hey there, sweetheart. how’s my favorite girl doing?” his scruffy beard scratching your face as his hands moved further down, stopping before breaking the hug.

“hey, si,” you gave a smile, not breaking eye contact for even a second. to anyone, this would be flirting. but it’s not like that. you’re greeting a family friend, attending to your daughterly duties.

“look at you, kiddo, so grown up now.” he stood back and looked you up and down, eyeing your body perversely. 

you two talked, having to practically yell because of the number of people speaking. he knew he had your attention, and he liked it.

“but,” he grinned, taking another step closer. his hand slid down your hip, fingers grazing against the bare skin of your thigh. "why don't we find a nice quiet spot to talk?" he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

this wasn’t completely new for him. there was an incident before when you had to drive with him to the beach, your car was broken down, and your parents' car was full. you sat in the passenger seat in your bikini, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, a little desperate. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing the supple skin back and forth. you could’ve sworn he was inching closer to your inner thighs as he drove. 

you waited for a second before answering, your head tilted before speaking, “‘kay.” a brief answer, no teasing this time. 

simon leads you to a secluded corner of the backyard, away from the bustle of the barbecue. he sits on an old, wooden bench, patting his lap invitingly. "now then, love," he began, his voice low. 

you sat promptly. 

simon's large hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and tracing the curves of your waist. his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties.

he groaned grossly under his breath, not getting enough of your body. the way you’d melt under his touch, so disgustingly needy for contact, made him want to take you even more.

his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties. your clit was so puffy, you were just so ready for his cock. “i’ve been watchin’ you, you know,” his thick accent making your thighs burn.

simon's lips were inches from your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. he brought his other hand to your throat, squeezing before moving it toward your breasts. “i've always thought you were such a pretty little thing.” he whispered.

his hands pinched your nipples through your thin shirt, in turn making you grind down on his bulge. :(

“mmm, really?” your poor clit twitched under his finger. he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and nipping gently, “so grown up now… hm?” he purred. his hands traveled lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips. you had nothing to say, words failing to escape your lips.

both of his hands were circling your pulsing cunt by now, a finger finding you already wet with excitement. you whimpered as he pressed his finger against your entrance, rubbing teasingly. “you want this, don’t you, doll?” you nodded, “i do.”

without hesitation, simon pushed his fingers inside you, feeling your tight cunt grip him perfectly. he began to move them in and out slowly, picking up speed as he felt your wetness coat his knuckles. “so fucking tight.” he moaned.

you writhed underneath him, tears already starting to roll as your legs trembled. you babbled and shook as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you. 

simon used another hand to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. your back rubbed up against his chest before he pulled his fingers from your cunt, lifting and turning you so you were facing him.

he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while pushing his fingers back into your starving little cunt. your mascara ran down your face as you pouted and cried, senses becoming overwhelmed.

he sucked hard while continuing to finger you. “you’re gonna make such a pretty little slut.” he groaned against your skin. “mhm! f-feels so fuckin’ good, si. m’gonna cum.” stupidly nodding and biting your plump lip.

he chuckled darkly, his fingers pumping faster and harder inside your velvety walls. your cunt constricted around his knuckles as you cried out, legs quivering as the knot in your tummy threatened release.

salty tears rolled down your face before he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving a trail of your juices on his hand. his fat cock pushed up against his slacks, straining against it, emphasizing every curve in his bulge. you cried loudly, lips puffy and slick, clit twitching pathetically.

your fingers curved around his clothed cock, being pushed away before he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants down, pre-cum leaking through the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his waistband away from his hips, freeing his cock pressed up against his stomach. 

he pulled his pants off as you stood and watched, salivating at the sight of his cock. you’d do anything for him, getting more and more greedy at the thought of him finally pushing his cock into you. 

finally, he had you on your knees on the bench, facing away from him, cunt burning, waiting for his thick length. you waited, breaking the silence with a question, “you usually like college girls?” 

it was an honest question, you were serious. 

he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slick hole, teasing. “i like what i like,” he grinned. “and right now, i like you.” he pushed his cock into your tense cunt, causing you to dig your nails into his thigh.

simon thrust his hips forward, burying his cock inside you up to the hilt. you felt his chest rising and falling against you as he groaned against your neck. how badly he wanted to bruise it up.

“take it,” he grunted, “take all of it.” his cock stretched your cunts walls, filling you up with his thickness. you felt a hand trail up to your throat, another gripping your hips tightly, guiding him in and out of your soaking hole.

he was rough with you, increasing the force with which he pounded into you. his hips snapped forward which each thrust, making your ass ripple. “s-si, can’t take it n’more! agh–cock s’fat, go slow, si, please, hurt s’bad!” he laughed at your attempts to stop him.

his grip on your neck tightened with each thrust, surely creating small bruises to deal with later. “fuckin’ delicious. takin’ me so well.” he said breathlessly, continuing to pound into you without mercy. 

“s’too much… si, fuck!” he was hunched over, both of you a mess, hair stuck to his forehead, you, crying ‘cause of his fat dick! 

“g-go deeper, deep–mmf!” you begged.

simon hissed, pulling out almost completely before slamming his huge cock back in with a force that made your poor tummy flip. he continued this pattern of deep thrusts, grunting loudly with each one as he dove his cock deeper into your wet hole.

he brought a hand to your clit, thick finger lousily rubbing and rolling it roughly between his thumb and forefinger. “m’gonna cum!” you pushed yourself onto his cock more, greedy for his length.

“cum–cum for me, love.” he urged, thrusting into you even harder. you gushed around his cock, thrashing while your cunt showed its appreciation, orgasm crashing over you, causing you to clench tightly around his cock. you moaned like an animal as he continued his abuse on your walls.

“fuck–like that,” simon grunted, groaning loudly as he felt his cock shudder violently inside of you. with one last thrust, he let go and came inside of you, filling you with his hot seed. it spilled out of you before simon sloppily thrust a few more times, making sure to fuck his cum deep into you, like there were no consequences. 

he didn’t let go of you, still hunched over your body, small in comparison to him, tummy slightly bulged by his oversized cock. panting heavily, he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. his cock twitched inside of you, releasing a few more spurts of cum. 

he helped you to your feet, smoothing your hair, drying your tears after wiping the cum from your inner thigh with his thumb, and sticking it in your mouth. you sucked his thumb hungrily, warm tongue making him softly groan. 

he’d heard your father call for him from the grill while he buckled his pants, kissing you before walking back into the yard. 

“good talk, sweetheart.”

[girlbeyondthegrave]

THINGS I NOTICED WHILE WATCHING BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE AGAIN:

This is a very Beetlebabes-centric post, so if you don’t like the ship, please feel free to scroll away. <3

Beetlejuice cut Delores’ ring finger off, and while it was originally a fun joke in the first movie, there’s deep implications about that action when we look at it with the context of the second film. Beetlejuice attacked her after she betrayed him. Anyone would want to kill the person that poisoned them, but the fact that he took the time to find her finger and deliberately cut her ring finger off (and ONLY that finger) reflects how much that marriage meant to him. It also symbolizes that he’s effectively dissolving their marriage. He’s cut off the physical representation of their love and taken the ring, which he tries to give to Lydia hundreds of years later. He held onto that ring for centuries in hopes of finding someone he deemed worthy of it.

He calls his dynamic with Lydia a long-distance relationship, which could’ve been a throwaway joke if not for the fact that when he clearly notices how hot Janet is, he never talks to her or gropes her like he did with Barbara prior to meeting Lydia. Keaton said BJ wouldn’t be politically correct, so this isn’t to reflect the current political climate, but rather to reflect BJ’s motivations.

Beetlejuice was jobless at the start of the first movie, and in thirty years he’s built a company for his bio-exorcisms. Coupled with the picture of Lydia on his desk, it’s possible he did this to impress her. After all, she’s famous and rich now. BJ’s gotta step it up, y’know?

Probably overheard the convo between Lydia and Rory and deliberately bugged her at that time, because if he can possess the phone or whatever, he can probably use it to eavesdrop. This can be further supported by how he got rid of the influencers but kept the people that mattered to Lydia present—Delia and Astrid.

We can also assume he overheard the conversation where Lydia said that Rory loves her and that has to be enough because of the panning to a gravestone. BJ has a special fascination with graveyards, even tiny model ones. If he did overhear them, it explains why he used the truth serum on Rory. He’s testing him. He wants to see if this guy actually loves Lydia or if he’s using her, and then he gives Lydia the means to exact revenge on Rory rather than doing anything himself.

Lydia spends half the movie being strong -armed into a marriage with Rory, and in a way, it’s reminiscent of the first movie’s marriage attempt. Rory dangles their “love” in front of her like a carrot, and if she doesn’t want to be alone, she has to accept his manipulation and agree to get married. Yet she immediately offers it to Beetlejuice, only sounding annoyed rather than terrified. And the movie spends a lot of time proving that BJ has sincere motives this time around, whereas Rory doesn’t. It pushes an underlying message that if one of these guys is going to be a better choice, it’ll be BJ.

Despite Lydia having a tendency to back out of their deals, he still helps her first. He prioritizes saving Astrid even before finding his “runaway bride” again.

Casually calls Lydia the love of his life, looks so sincere when he says he’ll make her so happy. Clearly spent those 30 years planning that dream-dance sequence.

He doesn’t seem to care that Lydia’s sending him away. That coupled with the end scene illustrates how confident he is this time around. Lydia is still stuck with him, and even if he didn’t get her this time, he will eventually. But he also knows how spooked she is by marriage after being a snoop, so it’s possible that he’s just taking it slow on purpose.

In conclusion: Beetlejuice genuinely does want to be with Lydia and care about her. His feelings have evolved beyond permanent residence in the mortal world. If anything, if he still wants that, it’s so he can be by her side.

[spider-stark]

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?” 

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off. 

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?” 

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off. 

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.” 

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.” 

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-” 

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.” 

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies. 

A mistake. 

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake. 

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.” 

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him. 

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge. 

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.” 

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.” 

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around. 

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance. 

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?” 

“A sparring partner?” 

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword? 

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?” 

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match. 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.” 

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring. 

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?” 

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?” 

“Without question.” 

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay. 

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.” 

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had. 

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training. 

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!” 

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight. 

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!” 

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?” 

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger. 

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh. 

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword. 

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.” 

“This is foolish-” you start. 

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs. 

Your blood simmers. 

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway. 

“Fine,” you answer bluntly. 

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise. 

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory. 

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.” 

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey. 

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming. 

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did. 

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?” 

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike. 

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never. 

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side. 

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus. 

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike. 

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won. 

“Sneaky,” he chastises. 

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought. 

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow. 

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone. 

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants. 

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.” 

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow. 

He moves first. 

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way. 

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking. 

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve. 

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup. 

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt. 

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare. 

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but— 

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable. 

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath. 

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones. 

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though. 

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner. 

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in. 

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat. 

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things. 

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out. 

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all. 

“You were wrong,” he whispers. 

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared. 

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.” 

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh. 

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.” 

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower. 

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-” 

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.” 

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it. 

You rasp, “Yes-” 

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.” 

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace. 

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat. 

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon. 

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?” 

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

[misswynters]

hands off

featuring. sevika x reader

requested by @ekkosh

The Last Drop. A place where everyone goes to unwind with a heavy drink. It was buzzing with its usual sounds of music, chatter, and the clink of glasses. You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, sipping on your drink as Sevika had gone to grab another round for the two of you. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of spilt ale, but you’d grown used to the atmosphere of bar. It was part of being with Sevika: her world, her places, her people. As you tapped your fingers along to the bass heavy tune playing in the background, a man slid into the seat beside you, leaning closer than necessary.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred slightly, though his eyes sparkled with intent. “Haven’t seen you here before. You come here often?”

You gave him a polite but firm smile, hoping the subtle tilt of your body away from him would send the message. “I’m here with someone,” you replied abruptly, however the man didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come on now,” he chuckled, leaning even closer, his cologne and alcohol mixing into a nauseating cloud. “Whoever they are, they’re not here now. Why don’t you let me keep you company?”

Before you could respond, sevika loomed over the both of you. The change in the air was immediate: it was heavier, charged, like a storm about to break. She stood there, towering you with her metal arm shining under the dim bar lights. She didn’t say anything at first, letting her sheer presence do the talking as she took in the scene with a cold gaze.

“Is there a reason you’re talking to my girl?” she asked, her voice low and smooth but laced with unmistakable anger.

The man froze, his confidence wavering as he turned to face her. “I-I didn’t know she was taken,” he stammered, his bravado evaporating under Sevika’s glare. You couldn’t believe your ears, the guy was lying right in front of you, but you held back trying to tell the actual truth. Knowing that sevika will handle it, for the most part.

“Well, now you do,” Sevika said, stepping closer, her height and broad shoulders making him look comically small in comparison. “And unless you want to find out how hard this arm can hit, I suggest you fuck off. Now.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, his face pale. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, practically tripping over himself as he fled.

Once he was out of sight, Sevika turned her attention to you, her hard expression softening. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but still gruff with residual tension.

You smirked up at her, unable to resist teasing. “I don’t know, Sev. I think I could’ve handled him. He wasn’t that bad.”

Her eyes narrowed, though there was a flicker of amusement behind them. “Don’t start with me,” she warned, but the corner of her lips twitched into a small smirk as she placed her hand possessively on your waist.

“Oh, come on,” you teased further, leaning into her and resting your hand on her chest. “You’re kind of sexy when you’re all protective like that. Big, bad Sevika swooping in to save the day.”

Her gaze darkened but not with anger. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Keep running that mouth, babe, and I’ll show you just how protective I can be when we get home.”

Your cheeks flushed at her tone, and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Is that supposed to scare me?” you challenged, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Sevika chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as she cupped your cheek with her hand. “It’s not a threat,” she murmured, her thumb brushing your skin. “It’s a promise.” The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background. You felt safe, wrapped in her presence. Eventually, Sevika pulled back slightly, her lips curving into a smirk.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break his nose,” she said, half-joking. “Next time, though, don’t even let it get that far. Call me over sooner.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though the sincerity in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Fine, fine. But you have to admit, it’s kind of nice seeing you get all worked up over me.”

Sevika huffed, shaking her head with a small grin. “Annoying,” she muttered, though the affection in her tone was undeniable.

As the night wore on, the two of you stayed close, her arm draped protectively around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but feel a little smug. After all, how many people could say they had someone like Sevika willing to scare off sleazy bar patrons and look damn good doing it?

“Ready to head home?” she asked eventually, her lips brushing against your temple in a rare display of public affection.

“Yeah,” you replied, resting your head against her shoulder. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. I want to see this ‘promise’ of yours in action.”

Sevika smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief as she led you out of the bar. “Oh, darling,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’re in for one hell of a night then.”

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[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[museanddream]

One Night - part 3 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: When you complete a dream transfer to Barcelona, there’s only one problem - you have to learn to coexist with your ex-hookup and her new girlfriend.

Warnings: 🔞 | strap-ons, degrading language, exhibitionism, voyeurism

Word count: 4k

part 1 | part 2

You keep kissing Ona like you’ve got nothing better to do. Which you do, but her lips, the feeling of her body underneath yours, her arms and legs wrapped around you so that it’d be hard to extract yourself from her embrace even if you wanted to, is enough of a distraction to stop things from progressing much further.

Eventually, the rest of your clothes come off, tugged at by Ona’s eager hands. It’s a bit of a miracle that they managed to stay on for this long, but you suppose you had more important things on your mind. Namely, getting Ona out of her clothes.

With no barriers between your hot skin and Ona’s, what comes next is back at the front of your mind, more pressing than any distractions.

“Where do you keep your toys?”

The whine that Ona lets out when you pull away from her lips fades into nothing when she registers your question.

Her eyes darken and flicker towards the nightstand.

“In the top.”

You thank Ona with another kiss, then crawl off the bed. You have to walk past Lucy, who you’d almost forgotten was still watching, to get to the bedside table. Your eyes meet as you pass, her expression not giving anything away, until her gaze drops down your body and a glint of hunger flashes across her face.

Putting an extra sway to your hips for the last couple of steps, you reach for the handle of the drawer and slide it open to look through it for a strap.

Their toy drawer is well-stocked but doesn’t contain anything particularly unexpected. A blindfold, some silk ties, a couple of vibrators. Your hand reaches for the harness that lies on top and as you lift it from the drawer, your gaze catches on a metal plug that had been hidden beneath.

Your cunt clenches at the sight, thinking of the similar one in your own toy collection, before you turn your attention to the dildos in the drawer instead. They have a few different ones, different lengths and girths, one with more of a pronounced curve to it and one that has a second bulbous end that would fit inside you, but your eyes are drawn to the biggest toy in the drawer. It’s probably bigger than anything you’ve ever taken and definitely bigger than anything you’ve ever worn.

It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out which of the two of them uses it on the other.

“Not that one.” Lucy’s voice rises up from the corner of the bedroom as she watches you lift the biggest dildo out of the drawer. “That’s mine.”

The decision is made for you by Lucy’s possessiveness.

Slotting the dildo through the ring in the front of the harness, you turn your head to look at Lucy and reply, “Really? I could’ve sworn I was about to fuck your girlfriend with it. Let’s ask Ona, huh?” You turn your attention back to Ona and ask, “Whose dick is this, Ona?”

The answer from Ona is instantaneous.

“Yours.”

As you step into the harness and start fixing it around your hips, you smile triumphantly across at Lucy and say, “I think that’s one to me, Bronzey.”

Lucy folds her arms across her chest but if she didn’t want you to use this toy, she’d get up from her chair and actually stop you from using it, which she doesn’t.

“You can’t win at sex,” Lucy replies with a disgruntled pout.

“Definitely feels like I’m winning.”

Satisfied with the fit of the harness, you crawl your way back onto the bed where Ona waits patiently for you. Her eyes are on the toy, wide as they watch the way it bobs with each movement you make.

“Is this still okay?” you ask as you crawl between her legs, realising that your animal brain has chosen the biggest toy for rather selfish reasons instead of asking Ona which one she’d like to use.

Ona’s dark gaze flits up to your face and then, with a pleading look in her eyes, she nods once.

You reward her with a kiss. And it can only have been three minutes since you last kissed her, but you kiss her like it was three years.

Ona kisses you back just as eagerly, like she simply can’t get enough of you. Her tongue slides wetly against yours, while her hands claw at your waist, pulling you as close as she can physically get you. With no space between your bodies, the toy gets caught between your stomachs, the angle of it causing the harness to press against your clit. You can’t help but take advantage of that, rolling your hips into Ona’s to give yourself something to grind against.

Realising what you’re doing, one of Ona’s hands slides back further and paws at your ass, her hips shifting beneath you as she tries to manoeuvre the toy towards where she wants it.

Pulling back from the kiss, you lean your forehead against Ona’s, stilling the slow grind of your hips enough to be able to say, “I want you on top.”

Ona pulls you in for another kiss with a hand on the back of your neck, hungry enough to tell you that she wants that too. As you tongues slide against each other, you lose yourself in the kiss, enough of a distraction that it takes you by surprise when Ona hooks a leg around your hips and swiftly rolls you onto your back.

You let out a little grunt as your back hits the mattress.

Ona looks like a goddess sitting astride your hips. Even more so when she sits back and reaches up to tie her hair up into a messy bun on the back of her head. The stretch only emphasises the lines of her body - the muscles of her abs and the curve of her breasts.

Having her on top seemed like such a good idea less than a minute ago. Now you don’t know how you’re going to make it through alive.

As she wraps the elastic on her wrist around her hair, you send your hand between her legs, testing her entrance with two fingers. Ona falters, eyes fluttering shut as you push inside. She’s still wet from before but deliciously sensitive too, clenching around you in an echo of her previous orgasm.

“Another?” you ask her, after a few thrusts, knowing that the toy you’re preparing her for will be much more of a stretch than what she’s already taken.

Ona rocks against your hand, then nods.

You tuck a third finger alongside the first two and ease it inside, a little deeper with each thrust until you’re filling her completely.

The moan that Ona lets out is more wrecked than any other sounds she’s made tonight. And if this is what she sounds like when it’s your fingers inside her, you can’t even begin to imagine what sounds will leave her mouth when it’s your cock that she’s riding.

One of Ona’s hands drops between her own legs. As her fingers find her own clit, she grinds down into your hand and you can feel her getting wetter still.

It’d be so tempting to let her continue like this. Having already seen her fall apart once, you’ve got a taste for it now and it’s all you want over and over again.

And maybe you would let her come again before you fuck her properly, except that Ona has other ideas. Her hand drops, slick fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand out from between her legs. She lets out a gentle sigh as your fingers slip out of her, but it’s your turn to groan when she immediately reaches for your toy and lines the head of the cock up where your fingers were just seconds ago.

“Fuck.”

It should be her swearing as she slowly sinks down onto the toy, but you’re helpless to the way that the expletive leaves your lips.

You don’t quite know where to look. Ona’s face is something you want to commit to memory, teeth digging into her lower lip, eyelids so heavy that they’re almost closed, her eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure. But you can hardly tear your gaze away from between her legs, where her pussy swallows each inch of your cock until you’re filling her completely.

Her hips flush against yours, Ona pauses with her eyes still closed. And though your animal instinct is to want to rut up into her, you lie still to give her a chance to get familiar with the feeling of having so much of you inside her.

At least, that was your intention until Lucy speaks up.

“Go on,” she urges Ona. “Ride her. There’s no need to pretend you need warming up.”

Ona opens her eyes and turns her head to glare over her shoulder at Lucy, but with the hazy look in her eyes and her general sex-rumpled appearance, she doesn’t look anywhere near as fierce as she probably wants to.

You glance across at Lucy too, who simply raises her eyebrows at Ona in a challenge, a familiar smirk gracing her lips.

Slowly, Ona rolls her hips against yours. Despite what Lucy said, she seems to be trying to get used to the feeling of you inside her, grinding gently back and forth.

Your hands settle on her hips, just to give yourself something to hold onto as she starts to slide up the length of the strap, before sinking back down again. Her eyes are furrowed shut, her breathing heavy and interspersed with pretty little grunts. She takes her pleasure from your toy and it’s all you can do to lie there and help her up and down, barely able to take in the sight of her on top of you.

“So greedy for it,” you managed to choke out, very aware that any control you might have over the situation is hanging on by a single thread.

Ona leans over you to press her mouth to yours, hot and open-mouthed and so messy but it’s perfect. The way she rides you is perfect, the way she kisses you, surrounds you, overwhelms you is all so perfect.

She pulls back from the kiss with a gasp and it gives you a split second to breathe and think.

“Did you talk about this with Lucy too?” you ask her, surprised at how husky your voice comes out. “Did you tell her you wanted me like this?”

Lucy speaks up, “She’s always a desperate little whore when there’s a strap involved. Always so ready to be filled up.”

“You’ve had a lot of practice, huh?” you tease Ona. “No wonder you look so good riding it.”

You send your hand up Ona’s sides and over her ribcage until you’ve got her tits in your palms, giving them a generous squeeze to elicit another moan.

You still can’t really believe that you’re having her like this. That Ona, who is so sweet and lovely and has the face of an angel, is letting out such filthy noises as she rides you in a desperate chase of her second orgasm of the night.

Your mind wanders again to Lucy, who must have seen Ona like this countless times before. Yet when you look over at her, there’s an expression of pure wonder on her face that probably mirrors your own, like it’s the first time for her too.

“Touch yourself,” you instruct her.

Lucy seems to fall back into reality, blinking a few times as her gaze switches from Ona to you.

You can probably count on one hand the number of times Lucy has willingly followed an order from you in the bedroom and she’s clearly not about to start now.

“Nah, I’m alright,” she answers, with a nonchalant shrug, as if she wasn’t just transfixed by the sight of Ona.

Ona arches her back prettily as she stops riding you and instead grinds in slow circles against your hips, letting out a low whine.

“Please, Lucy.”

You rest your hands on Ona’s hips to still her so that you can put all your focus on Lucy.

Now this is more of a dilemma. You can see it in her eyes. She wants to fulfil Ona’s wish, but not at the expense of conceding to you too.

Eventually it’s Ona, who lets out a particularly theatrical moan despite the fact that your hands on her hips are preventing her from being able to do anything to the toy that would cause her to make such a noise, who wins out in Lucy’s mind.

Green eyes bore into yours as Lucy starts to undress, the staring contest between the two of you only breaking for long enough for Lucy to pull her T-shirt over her head. When it drops to the floor, she stands up to unbutton her trousers, letting them fall down her legs and kicking them off her feet before she sits back down in just her underwear.

You manage to refrain from teasing Lucy about how whipped she is, though mostly because Ona starts moving again and the sight of her bouncing up and down on your cock with her eyes furrowed shut and her lips slightly parted is enough to render you speechless.

The view is too good to gatekeep. And Lucy probably deserves some kind of reward.

“Turn around,” you tell Ona, stilling her movements with your hands on her hips. “Show Lucy how pretty you look riding my cock.”

You help Ona to lift herself from the toy, pleased with the dissatisfied little whine she lets out when it slips free and bounces towards your stomach. But then your hands are guiding Ona to turn around, still with one knee on either side of your hips as she faces Lucy.

Sparing a quick glance to the corner of the room, you’re pleased with what you see. Lucy still wears her underwear but her legs are parted, her good knee bent with her foot planted against the fabric of the chair, while her hand rests teasingly over her clothed pussy.

Wanting to give Lucy something to touch herself properly over, you fist the toy again, slick with Ona’s arousal, and guide it back towards her cunt.

Bracing her hands on your thighs, Ona sinks down onto the toy without needing to be asked twice.

She really is as eager for it as Lucy said she was, moving up and down like she never even stopped. Your hands slide back from her hips to her ass, spreading her cheeks gently until you can see the way that every inch of the toy gets swallowed by Ona’s pussy, only to emerge even shinier each time she lifts herself upwards.

And fuck, maybe you’ve actually deprived Lucy of the best view.

But there are no complaints from Lucy, only praise.

“Fucking hell, babe. You’re unreal. So fucking hot.”

Your eyes flit across to Lucy, first to her face, then to the hand between her own legs. Though she still wears her underwear, she’s at least given up on whatever shred of pride she was still trying to cling onto, hand hidden beneath the fabric where you can visibly see her rubbing herself in time with Ona’s rhythm on your cock.

The power of it all is dizzying.

You’ve still barely wrapped your head around the fact that you get to have Ona like this, and she’s practically been throwing herself at you since Lucy‘s earlier admission that Ona has been craving you for a while. Though Lucy isn’t giving herself to you in the same way that Ona is, this still feels like something of a submission to you, touching herself to the sight of you fucking her girlfriend.

Even more determined to make it worth Lucy‘s while, or perhaps simply with a point to prove, there’s nothing else to do except double down until Ona is coming on your cock.

You try to manoeuvre Ona on top of you, pulling her backwards until she’s left with no choice but unfold her legs from beneath her. The toy slips out of her in the process, though not for long because you reach your hand down between you and guide it back to her entrance with ease.

The new position gives you more control over the pace. With Ona now almost lying on top of you, back against your front with her weight supported on her own arms, you plant your feet on the mattress and rut up into her.

“Fuck!” Ona cries out, before repeating the sentiment in Spanish.

The sensory overload is almost too much. Having Ona on top of you gives you nowhere to go but up into her, and each rough thrust presses the base of the harness against your clit. You can’t remember ever being able to come directly from just wearing the strap before but you can feel it building. The sounds Ona is making, the feeling of her skin against yours, the memory of her falling apart on your fingers earlier. Not to mention the fact that it’s simply Ona, who you’ve spent months trying not to pine over, only to end up here, fucking her with a strap while her girlfriend watches on.

The whole thing is just so much more than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

“Yes, Ona,“ Lucy growls from the corner of the room. “Let her use you. Always such a pretty little plaything, aren’t you?”

Your eyes turn to Lucy. Her fingers still work between her legs, hips now bucking up against her hand in time with your thrusts. The thought that you might be able to get her off without even touching her only spurs you on.

Your hips rut the toy up into Ona at a punishing pace and she lets out another ungodly cry.

“Dios mio.”

Banding your arms around Ona’s middle, you send one south to play with her clit as you continue to thrust into her from below.

Propped up on her arms, Ona’s head falls backward as her back arches. The position puts her in an ideal position for you to lean up and murmur in her ear, “You gonna come for me?”

“Close,” Ona gasps.

“Yes,” you hiss. “I want you to come.”

You can feel yourself hurtling towards your own orgasm but you really want Ona to come first.

It gets harder to fuck into her, the slight resistance as the incoming orgasm has her tightening around the toy, not to mention your own pleasure building and the tiring of your hips, but just a few more thrusts and Ona is falling apart. Her hips jerk against the hand on her clit, her entire body writhes on top of yours, the sounds that ripples from her throat seem to echo around the room, and the whole thing has you following her into your own climax in a matter of seconds.

It washes through you, slowly at first as you teeter over the precipice, then all at once, spreading right through to the fingers that twitch against Ona’s clit and the toes that curl into the mattress beneath your feet. You cling to Ona like she’s a lifebuoy stopping you from drowning in the pleasure of it all, your hips jerking up into hers where you’re still connected through the toy, face buried into the side of her neck as the intensity finally bleeds away.

On top of you, Ona is still now too, except for the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she catches her breath.

“Holy shit,” you murmur into Ona’s neck, pressing your lips to the place where her pulse flutters beneath the corner of her jaw. “That was … well, fuck.”

Given the intensity of the orgasm that you can still feel the aftershocks of, you’re surprised you manage to be even that coherent.

Ona pushes her weight up on her arms and carefully lifts herself off the toy, letting out one final whimper as it slides free, before she twists herself onto her front and lies on top of you, chest to chest. You wrap your arms around her, sweaty and sated as your hearts beat almost in unison, and press a litany of barely there kisses to the messy tendrils of her hairline.

You could fall asleep like this, maybe you actually would, if not for the way that the mattress dips at the end of the bed, reminding you of Lucy’s presence.

Ona nuzzles her face into your neck, pressing her lips to a spot that’s sensitive enough to send a reminiscent tremor through your body, then slowly disentangles her body from yours. She looks down at you, still oh so fucking pretty with her dark eyes and pink cheeks, teeth digging into kiss-swollen lips as she asks, “Okay?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Fuck, Ona. I’m way more than just okay.”

It’s Ona’s turn to chuckle, a familiar low rumble from her chest. She leans down to kiss you, first a gentle peck, then something long and lingering before she finally withdraws and shuffles across the bed to reunite with Lucy.

Lucy knees her way closer to Ona until she can cradle her girlfriend’s jaw in her hands, tucking a loose strand of hair that’s escaped from Ona’s bun behind her ear. The expression on her face is one of affection mixed with pride and you watch for a few seconds as Ona leans her cheek into Lucy’s hand, before you have to look away. They must both know that you’re still there and not care, but it feels like a moment that’s too intimate for witnesses.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you focus on steadying the in and out of your breathing while listening to the gentle sounds of their reunion. You hear a soft sigh, one which you can now recognise easily as Ona’s, then the unmistakeable wet sounds of a slow kiss. After a few moments, it stops, then Lucy’s low voice cuts through the stillness.

“My beautiful girl,” Lucy murmurs. “You always look so pretty when you come. But that was something else, wow.”

Ona speaks up, “Did you…?” She trails off and you can hear the uncertainty, asking the question you don’t know the answer to either.

“Yeah,” Lucy replies, the pride audible in her voice. “Course I did. You looked so good with her.”

Your eyes flutter open at this and your ego swells with the admission. You’d been so caught up in the other two orgasms in the room that you missed Lucy’s entirely. She was never the kind of girl to come dramatically, usually reaching her peak much more physically than verbally, with shaking thighs and a tight hand in your hair. And though you’re a little sad that this one went by completely unnoticed by both you and Ona, you’re also pretty sure that the night is far from over and there’ll be time to rectify that.

Something which gets confirmed by Lucy just seconds later, when her attention shifts from Ona to where you’re sprawled on the bed.

“Now, what am I going to do with you?” she asks, eyes raking up and down your body, naked except for the harness.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and gesture at the toy that still stands proudly from your hips.

“Ona’s warmed it up for you. If you want.”

You already know that the chances of Lucy agreeing to your suggestion are close to zero before you even say it aloud, but you can’t help yourself. You’re still running high on endorphins. Besides, you’ve probably earned the right to be somewhat cocky after the show you’ve just put on with Ona.

Lucy’s eyes drop to the dildo, still wet with Ona’s slick.

“Take it off.”

In what you know may be one final act of defiance before Lucy truly takes control, you challenge her by replying, “Take it off me yourself.”

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE – H.H

CHAPTER III (Finale) - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapters: I [x], II [x] Word count: 2.6k+ words (unedited) Genre/other tags: Angst with comfort. Good ending. Jealousy. Warnings: Cursing (of course). Gets a little bit heated towards the end, but nothing too explicit. Alastor being an asshole.

Much to your surprise, you found yourself enjoying Alastor’s company. When he wasn’t being the maddening person that he can be, he was actually quite pleasant to be around. After grabbing the items that Charlie had requested (which had all been teleported back to the hotel), Alastor convinced you to have a leisurely stroll around the outskirts of town. There, he introduced you to the many places he frequented, from the small, homey cafe he would always go to, to even the butchers where he purchases his premium meats. All the while, you tried to ignore the looks that you got from the surrounding residents – a mixture of fear and distaste were sent towards the radio-demon, whilst others stared at you in question, wondering who you may be and what you were doing with the Overlord. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to chat, Alastor was more than happy to fill in the silence, sharing a couple stories and cracking corny jokes here and there, which you had to admit were pretty funny. After an exhausting week, it made you realise how nice it was to actually smile and laugh again.

After a couple hours, you both made your way back to the hotel. All the while, Alastor had been recounting a narrative from his times in the living world which had taken a particularly hilarious turn, causing you both to chuckle aloud. You wiped the amused tear that escaped your eye as Alastor pushed through the front doors of the establishment. 

“Oh, fuck no!” A familiar voice shouted from the distance, startling and causing you to flinch on the spot. Swiftly turning your head to the source of the ruckus, you were dumbfounded to see Lucifer himself, stomping his way towards your direction with a vexed expression. Behind him, you saw a distressed Charlie staggering towards him as Vaggie followed suit.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you asshole!?” Lucifer growled, getting up close and personal with Alastor, whilst poking an accusatory finger against his chest. Before you could’ve reacted, you were then pulled back by the deer-demon, who draped an arm around your shoulders.

“Now, now, why the sudden hostility? I was only taking my darling [Name] out for a much needed breath of fresh air!” Alastor chimes, feigning innocence and batting his lashes. “I took it upon myself to look after her wellbeing. We’ve all been so worried since she’s just been so, so dispirited and blue lately…and I’m sure you know why that is, your highness.” The backhanded comment caused you to swiftly peer up at the Overlord, baffled by the harshness of his remark. But as you observe his ever-growing grin, it only then struck you, the sole purpose behind his kind display towards you. 

Meanwhile, it had Lucifer fuming. Literally. “Why you little, piece of shit–” The King then grabbed Alastor by his dress-shirt, the fabric scorching under his touch, “who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Seeing the growing tension between the two men, Charlie immediately stepped forward. “Dad, stop it,” she sternly said, grabbing his wrist in warning. Lucifer was quick to shake the girl’s hand off, tightening his grip on Alastor’s shirt, “No, Charlie, I need to put this pompous asshole back in his place! It seems he doesn’t know basic courtesy, and how to keep out of other people’s business.”

Alastor chortles mockingly in response. “Oh, hoh? You speak of courtesy? I believe you should take your own advice, your highness, as you seem to lack consideration to those around you,” he pushed even further, all the while peering down at you from the corner of his eyes. Lucifer follows his line of sight, his eyes landing on the troubled expression etched on your face. His gaze softened for a brief moment, before hardening once more as he fixed his attention back to the Overlord.

“You better shut that damn trap of yours if you know what’s good for you,” Lucifer warns deeply. “Now, I’m merely sticking up for a dear pal of mine. So tell me, what exactly is so wrong about that?” Alastor shoots back, harshly flicking the man’s hand away. Tutting, he patted down his now-tattered suit, an eye twitching in mild annoyance. 

“It is when you decide to overstep boundaries.” With a blink of an eye, Lucifer’s scleras suddenly switched over to a red hue, sending you into sudden caution. Alastor’s grin turned almost sinister at the challenging tone. “Perhaps it’s necessary to do so. After all, dear [Name] over here had a pleasant time. There was no harm done.”

The King gritted his teeth, his horns threatening to reveal themselves, “Oh, but that’s what you think. ‘Cause someone will be harmed if you decide to keep this shit up–”

“Lucifer, stop.” Almost instantaneously, the King’s fumes were extinguished as he turned his gaze towards you. He felt shame fill him to the core at the sight of your disappointed expression, glaring at him in disapproval. Baffled, he opened his mouth to speak, “[Name], I–” 

“Don’t,” you sternly intervene, raising a hand to silence him. You then send a critical glance back at Alastor, forcibly pushing his arm off of you, “And you. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking of, pulling a stunt like this and using my vulnerability for your sick entertainment, but I expect you to apologise to Charlie and everyone else here for causing all this ruckus.” You ignored the way the radio-demon’s eyes rolled as you pushed through, stepping forward to grab Lucifer by the wrist, before dragging him along towards the staircase leading to your rooms. In doing so, you offer an apologetic look to your friends as you pass by the bar, who nodded back in silent understanding and awe.

The walk towards your shared room was painfully silent as the both of you dreaded the upcoming confrontation. As the number of your shared room came into view, you let go of Lucifer to wordlessly invite yourself inside. The King followed suit with hesitant steps, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Rubbing his arms self-consciously, his downcast eyes trailed up to you. You had plopped yourself down on the furthest side of the bed across the room, your back facing towards him and posture slumped over. Lucifer let out a shaky breath. 

“...[Name], darling. I’m sorry,” he starts softly, nervously squeezing his hands into fists, “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. It was–It was childish of me. I didn’t mean to upset you–“

“Y’know, you’ve got some nerve acting the way you did…” you suddenly cut in, voice surprisingly faint but filled with melancholy, “...acting all resentful and jealous towards Alastor–who mind you, was actually just taking me out for a walk–when you yourself still seem to be preoccupied with your ex.” Lucifer grimaced at the venom laced in your tone. Ouch. Though it was deserving, he dejectedly thinks to himself. 

“[Name], please, I-I can explain everything. I didn’t mean for tonight to go the way it did,” Lucifer pleaded whilst staring at the back of your head. He didn’t know whether his sincerity was effectively making its way through to you.

“Then what were you planning?” You say sharply, your voice raising a bit, “I…Lucifer, just please tell me what’s going on. Just tell me the truth.” Your eyes started to blur as a sob threatened to escape your throat. “Because I’m tired of this. I-I’m so tired of feeling so insecure, confused and lost, and I...I-I don’t even know what you want from me anymore.” You hang your head down low, hugging yourself tightly as the tears begin to pour out uncontrollably, “If…if you’re planning on breaking up with me, just go ahead and say it! I-I don't want to be waddling 'round like some–some idiot, waiting for you to–”

“No. Wha–[Name], no. Don’t even go there.” Lucifer said incredulously, immediately marching towards your side of the bed. He kneels down in front of you, reaching out to grab at your shaking hands. “That’s not why I’m here, okay? It’s not even remotely close to what I have to say. So please get that idea out of your head,” he reaffirms, while rubbing his thumbs against your hands in a reassuring manner. You decided to keep your gaze down, having no strength to look Lucifer in the eye, knowing fully well that you’d break even more if you were to do so. Your tiny gasps and hiccups were what filled the room, tearing the King’s heart bit by bit, with every second that passed. With no words spoken on your behalf, Lucifer took this as a cue to continue. 

“[Name]…I’m sorry for upsetting you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I-I know I’ve got a lot of baggage, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making you carry that burden with me. I…I did a lot of thinking during our time apart, and it made me realise how much of a fool I was–of how blind I was to what was in front of me. I took for granted your love and kindness. I-It wasn’t fair to you, and you didn’t deserve that. I-I truly didn't know what I was thinking, continuing to wear that ring. I came to terms and knew deep down for so long, even before we got together, that there wasn’t a possibility that Lilith and I would ever get together again. And yes, I do love Lilith. She’s been with me since the beginning of time and for most of eternity, and is the mother of my only child. Perhaps it was the memories that we shared that kept me hanging on for so long, I thought. She didn’t do anything wrong by me either…we just���sort of grew apart after a while. I-I don’t know why, but regardless…it hurt a lot. And even despite her absence now, I still do love her.” 

At that, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. His words were like a harsh punch to the gut. It was nauseating, and the room felt like it was caving in on you. Devastated, you attempted to pull yourself away to leave the room, but was forced to still as Lucifer reached up to cup a hand over your dampened cheek. He gently tugs your face upward, his eyes softening and staring deep into your crestfallen, reddened ones. 

“But darling, it’s not the same anymore. It’s different now. And it’s because you changed that. Yes, Lilith will continue to be an important person in my life, there’s no doubt about it. But…it’s you, darling. I choose you. You mended and opened up my heart when I was a hundred-percent certain that I couldn’t for another soul again. Each second and moment I spent with you made me become so hopeful and excited for the future and whatever lies ahead of us. Alongside Charlie, you've made me the happiest I’ve ever been in so, so long. And it’s you who fortunately gave me a second chance in this life. I'm so grateful for you, and words can’t even express how much you mean to me. A-And I’m sorry it took a while for me to realise that, and for hurting you in the process.” Eyes closing, he leans in to press his forehead against yours.

“And yes, it might take a bit more time to put this all behind me, and I-I apologise. But…I’m finally ready to take that leap with you. My heart is yours for the taking–as long as you’ll have me, that is. And I-I don’t expect you to forgive me now–I wouldn’t even forgive myself either. But, if it’s space that you want and need, I’ll respect that. But just know that I love you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that I don’t, or don’t  show it enough. But believe me…I love you. I love you so damn much.” 

The sincere confession left you speechless, feeling yourself practically melt into his hands like pudding. A sensation akin to relief crashed over you like a wave, finally hearing the words that you longed for, for over a week. With a broken sigh, you cupped a hand over his own, leaning in to bask in his touch. Your breath then hitched at the realisation that he had taken off his wedding ring, no longer feeling the cold metal against your skin – it was only his warmth alone that welcomed you. Your chest suddenly felt immensely full, overwhelmed by his love and affection, but also by the guilt that came for your previous words and actions that night. Your furrowed your brows, your tears clouding your vision once more,  “Luci, I…I’m so sorry. I-I’m sorry for pushing you too much. I was being too selfish a-and I didn’t even stop to think about how you felt. I-I should’ve been more understanding and–” 

Lucifer was quick to hush you, wiping your tears and shaking his head. “Darling, no. There’s no need for you to apologise, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one in the wrong. And if anything, I needed that push.” He then leans in to press a lingering smooch on your forehead, “But I truly mean it when I say it, though. I do really love you. Being without you these past few days drove me insane–it’s crazy how much of an effect you have on me.” He tearfully chuckles. 

A smile made its way up to your quivering lips, a blush dusting your cheeks from the sweet remark, “I love you too, Luci.”  

Despite the wide grin that erupted on his face, it was humbled down by a tentative guise. “...Are we going to be okay?” He quietly asks, his eyes peering up at you in a hopeful manner. Your eyes softened at his uncertainty. Sniffling, you reach out and pull him into a hug, your face huddled into the crook of his neck. Lucifer was quick to return the gesture, holding you close and breathing in your comforting scent. Mumbling a response into his neck, you say something incomprehensible, causing the man to chuckle softly into your hair. “Come on. Use your words, love,” he teased against your ear. You giggled, all the while nodding your head, “Y-Yeah…we’ll be okay.” 

At that, Lucifer gently slowly pulled away, before leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. The King inhaled your whimpers as the kiss grew increasingly sensual and near-desperate, his hands beginning to wander down your waist. Lucifer then stood up from the ground, your lips remaining connected as he pushed you flat against the bed. Straddling your hips between his legs, his lips began to trail down your neck, biting and pecking at your feverish skin, all the while dragging his hands up your sides to pin your hands beside either side of your head. "Luci, please," you whined, feeling his sharp teeth graze above your pulse. He slowly made his way back up to meet you once more, pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

Eventually, the both of you unwillingly parted for air, foreheads pressed together as you both took a brief moment to catch your breath. You both stared at each other lovingly, basking in each others' presence. “You’re perfect for me, my angel,” Lucifer whispers, softly pecking both your cheeks, your nose, then at your lips, “never forget that.” 

It was clear that the both of you had some work to do, there was no question about that. He wasn’t as perfect as he made out to be, but neither were you. But since you have each other’s company, and with your newfound reconnection, you both knew that things will eventually turn out okay. 

A/N: And that brings us to the very end! Thank you for reading and all the support you've shown for this mini-series! I'll now be focusing on requests~

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

[dixons-sunshine]

Firecracker | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Abandoned by the group you had taken with you on your scavenging trip, you were forced to find your way back to Alexandria in your injured, exhausted state. However, upon finding yourself back in your new home, you came to realize that nobody had made an attempt to go looking for you in your absence—or so you thought. All it took was for you to snap and find yourself in the infirmary with your partner for you to discover how wrong you were.

Genre: Hurt to comfort.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of near death experiences, blood, injuries.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Requested by @caseylicious. Holy crap, I am incredibly sorry it took me three months to get to this. I hope this is somewhat okay to make up for the long wait!

One step. You’re closer to Alexandria.

Another step. You’re closer to your group.

Another step. You’re closer to getting some help.

Another step. You’re closer to being able to collapse into your partner’s arms.

One more step. You’re closer to being safe again.

That was the mantra you kept repeating in your head. It was the only thing that kept you going. It was the only thing that kept you on your feet instead of accepting defeat and collapsing to the ground. It was the only thing keeping you sane as your feet dragged against the hard concrete of the road you were walking on to get back to your home, to get back to your family and the love of your life.

You highly regretted agreeing to go out on that particular run. Everything had gone wrong since the moment you stepped foot outside of the gated walls of the community you were relatively new to. The car had broken down halfway towards the building you were meant to go check out, you ran out of ammo when you and the group you had taken with you encountered over three dozen walkers, and the group had split when you injured your leg and couldn’t run anymore, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You had to take on the small herd alone, further injuring yourself in the hard, gruesome process. You had passed out by a riverside after managing to escape, and woke up after who knows how long. It could’ve been a few hours, or it could’ve been a few days. You were extremely starved, slightly dehydrated, and you were on the brink of becoming delirious. You desperately needed help. Your watch Daryl had gotten for you could at least let you know what time it was, and you were certain that at least a day had passed.

So why had nobody tried to look for you yet? You were sure that it the archer had tracked you, he would’ve found you already. So why hadn’t you seen anyone yet? However, you tried not to dwell on it. Maybe your watch was broken. Maybe only a few hours had passed, and your disappearance was yet to be a cause of concern. Maybe you were overthinking things. That was a probable possibility.

The Alexandrian safe zone’s looming gates came into your view, and you almost started crying tears of relief. You had never been as happy to see gates as much as at that moment. Those gates meant safety. Those gates meant safety. Those gates meant you were going to see your found family. Those gates meant that you would be able to see Daryl. Those gates meant home, in more ways than one.

One step. The gates are only a few feet away.

Another step. You’d be able to get some answers soon.

Another step. You were almost to your family.

Another step. You were almost in your partner’s arms.

One more step. You were almost safe.

One final step, and you were right in front of the Alexandrian gates. You swayed slightly as you came to a stop, the blood you were steadily losing from a deep wound in your side you had acquired on your venture back to the safe zone making you feel woozy. However, you refused to surrender to the feeling of unconscious that tugged at the back of your eyes. You were a mere gate away from being able to get the help you needed. You’d be damned if you gave up now.

“Open the gates.” What was meant to be a loud call instead turned out to be a raspy, gruff whisper. You cleared your throat and tried once more, this time luckily succeeding in your quest. “Open the gates!”

You looked up when you heard a gasp, locking eyes with none other than one of your closest friends—Maggie Rhee. “Oh my god, Y/N!” She hurried over to peer down towards someone on the other side, someone you couldn’t see. “It’s Y/N! Open the gates!”

You could hear the sound of rushing and rustling, and then the gates were being pushed open by Nicolas—one of the people who had been in your run crew and had left you for dead. You glared daggers at him as you limped your way into the safe zone, locking eyes with multiple inhabitants, including some members of your found family: Sasha, Tara, Maggie, Carol, Eugene—although Eugene’s friendship status with you varied from moment to moment—and Father Gabriel, although he was still a member of the group you were reluctant to accept.

In the midst of those few members of your group, however, stood Deanna Monroe, the leader of the safe zone. Her expression showed relief, but also profound disappointment, though you could see that last bit was not directed towards you; she was looking towards her son, Aiden, who had also been part of the group that had abandoned you. However, she stepped forward and sent you a warm smile. “We are so glad to see you’re okay. We had been under the impression that you were dead. We were told that the walkers had gotten to you two days ago.”

“Two days?” you asked incredulously. Surely your ears were deceiving you. There was no way that two days had passed. There was no way. If it had indeed been two days, your family would’ve been looking for you, would they not? You certainly would have been looking for them had one of your friends been missing for forty eight hours. That’s just how things was. They would not leave you like that. They just wouldn’t. Not your family.

You opened your mouth to voice your disbelief, but your words fell short when you locked eyes with none other than the man you loved more than anything else on the planet—Daryl Dixon. His cerulean-coloured eyes locked with your own, and he exhibited clear signs of relief and happiness. However, the same could not be said for you. Your eyes steadily wandered to the other members of your group who stepped up behind the crossbow-wielding archer, and the anger that had been festering since you had been abandoned by your run crew begged to be released as realization dawned on you; none of them had gone to look for you. They hadn’t even made an effort to do so. You could’ve been dead in a ditch and they wouldn’t have known. Did you truly mean so little to them, to your own partner, that they couldn’t have been bothered to go look for you?

You scoffed in disbelief, taking a step back as your hazy mind tried to wrap around the knowledge you had stumbled upon. “You’re all here,” you stated in an angry whisper, but your voice soon raised to a shout. “You’re all here! You’re all fucking here!” You stumbled slightly, your mind still woozy from the blood loss, but that pivotal piece of information—that you were losing blood—had yet to register in your mind. “You’re all here!”

“Sunshine—” Daryl began in a soft tone of voice, taking a step towards you in the hopes to calm you down. However, you were seeing red, and all rational thoughts flew out the window.

“No!” you exclaimed in anger, taking a step away from him. “I’ve been gone for two days, and none of you went looking for me? What the fuck?! Do I really mean that little to you all?”

To say your found family was taken aback would be the understatement of the century. None of them knew how to even attempt to defuse the situation. More often than not, the group teased you and Daryl for being able to make your relationship work when the two of you were complete polar opposites of one another. You were a bubbly, talkative, sunshiny person who preferred to avoid conflict unless absolutely necessary. You never snapped, never raised your voice. You were understanding, and always attempted to keep the fighting and raised voices in the group to a minimum. You were a firecracker, but in the most positive way humanly possible.

With that image of your personality painted into their brains, it was no wonder they were so taken aback by your sudden outburst, unwilling to let your partner attempt to explain his part of the story. Your title of ‘firecracker’ had officially taken on its negative connotation, although nobody could blame you for your outburst.

The rest of the Alexandrians looked at the encounter in silence, well aware of the fact that they had no right to jump into a conversation like that. You and your group hadn’t even been there a full month. They knew nothing about you. It was best if they steered clear for the time being. Even Deanna could sense that, the leader taking a step back, sending her son a pointed look.

Daryl’s expression twisted into one of surprise and slight hurt. You had never snapped before, and especially never at him. “Sunshine, we—” There was a perfectly good explanation for what was going on. He wanted to explain it to you, but apparently, you would not allow him to do so.

“I could’ve been dead!” You began, frustration evident in your shaky voice. More blood pooled from the wound in your side, and it brought the archer’s attention to it. He tried to step forward, to alert you of your predicament and to get you some help immediately, but you weren’t done with your rant just yet. “I could’ve... I...” you trailed off, black spots beginning to coat your vision. There it was. The effects of your blood loss were finally in full swing, and your exertion from your frustration hadn’t helped at all. “I... Daryl...”

The last thing you remembered before the darkness consumed you was your partner rushing forward as your knees gave out beneath you, his arms catching you before you could reach the ground. His mouth had moved, presumably calling for help as a flurry of people—your found family—sprung into action. Your eyes had trailed over your partner’s rugged, handsome features, burning the image of his face into your mind. If you died, he was the final thing you wanted to see before you succumbed death.

And then... Darkness.

A throbbing, dull ache in your head, leg and side was what you awoke to. For the second time in a span of a few days, you had collapsed from your injuries and awoke with little recollection of what had happened for a few seconds. However, as your mind started to catch up with you, the memories flooded into your brain at a relentless pace, forcing you to screw your eyes shut at the pain, both physical and emotional.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flew open, and you lolled your head to the side. You locked eyes with your partner, and you could see the exhaustion that threatened to consume him. On closer inspection, you could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, indicating he had gotten little rest, if any at all. His skin was slightly paler than usual, and as your eyes drifted down, you could see the small bandage that covered a wound that hadn’t been there when you had first reunited with him at the gates of the safe zone. That particular bandage signified that he had given somebody a blood transfusion, and given your current state, you didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out who he had given it to. He had given it to you.

With the knowledge that your partner had given you his blood despite your earlier outburst, shame flooded through your body. “I’m sorry,” were the first words you uttered. You truly were sorry. Although your prior frustrations hadn’t been unjustified, you knew there were far better ways to have gone about it. Snapping and yelling at them hadn’t helped anyone, least of all yourself.

Daryl frowned slightly. He leaned forward in the chair that he sat upon, his ocean-coloured eyes trailing over your face, observing you as you pushed yourself up into a seated position. “What? Ya have nothin’ to be sorry for.”

You shook your head, swallowing at the lump that formed in your throat. You blinked away the tears that formed and threatened to fall. “I do. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’m so sorry.”

Daryl gave you a weak smile. He slowly reached for your hand, and took it in his when you made no effort to yank it away. “Ya had every right to be mad. Ya were alone out there for days and thought nobody were gon’ look for ya. Hell, if it were me, I would’a been pissed.”

You frowned slightly at his comment. “Thought nobody was gonna look for me? What do you mean?”

Daryl inhaled deeply in an attempt to gather his racing thoughts. Subconsciously, he gently rubbed his thumb across your bruised knuckles, before sighing and looking up to gaze into your eyes. “When that group ya went out with came back, we all saw that ya weren’t with ‘em. Bastards told us that they weren’t sure if ya were dead, but they saw the walkers surround ya. We wanted to go out and look for ya, but that Aiden guy told Deanna that the herd was big and awfully close to Alexandria, so she wouldn’t let nobody leave. I saw them with yer gun, though. S’how I knew they were lyin’ when they told us they had tried to save ya.”

Daryl stopped for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “We were plannin’ on leavin’ and lookin’ for ya anyway, but it was damn near impossible to sneak past them guards she had patrollin’ the place. I tried to, though. I really did, but them guards caught me and I was practically placed under witness protection and couldn’t do nothin’ without someone reportin’ it back to Deanna. We had to come up with a solid plan first, and we did. We were gon’ look for ya today. Carol was distractin’ Olivia so that we could get our weapons from the armory, and Maggie had switched places with the guy on watch so that she could let us out. We were ‘bout to leave when we heard Maggie yellin’ that ya were back. And then, well... The rest s’history.”

If you felt ashamed at your outburst before, it certainly did not compare to the amount of embarrassment you felt at that moment. You had been out of line. Your outburst was immensely unnecessary. If you had just listened before jumping to conclusions, things would have been different. You were certain that your found family was angered, and you had no idea how to even begin to make it up to them. You had accused them of not caring, something you knew was untruthful. They cared about you a lot, and had showed it countless times before.

You messed up, and you didn’t know how to make it right.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out so quietly that had Daryl not been in close proximity to you, he would have missed it. “I’m so sorry.” You knew that apologies could not always fix everything, but you didn’t know where else to start. You just prayed to whatever higher entity was listening that it was enough.

The archer shook his head and brought your hand up to his lips, tenderly kissing the broken skin of your knuckles. “No need to apologize. None’a us blame ya.” Cleverly sensing that his words had little effect reassuring you and you were in desperate need of something to cheer you up, Daryl sent you a playful smile. “‘Sides, if anythin’, it was a blessin’ in disguise. Yer outburst scared the livin’ shit outta Eugene. Pretty sure he ain’t gon’ be botherin’ ya no more.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thank god. I was beginning to think I’d need to file a restraining order,” you joked. Despite popular belief amongst your group, Eugene’s ‘flirtations’ did not bother you. The little crush he harboured on you hadn’t exceeded any of your boundaries, and you highly doubted it ever would. He was harmless.

Daryl chuckled, before his expression turned serious again. “Seriously, though. Dun’ blame yerself for snappin’. It happens. Ya were worse for wear and felt abandoned. If ya had gone and hugged each’a us with no hard feelin’s without hearin’ our side’a the story, I would’a had to run for the hills ‘cause that’s psychopath behaviour.”

You laughed lightly at his words. However, your laugh soon morphed into a cough, your body wracking from the pressure. Daryl stood up from the chair and sat next to you on the bed, his big, calloused hands rubbing soothing circles over your back. When your coughing fit subsided, you slowly leaned into your partner’s side. Daryl instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pressing a soft, tender kiss on the top of your head.

“M’real glad yer safe,” he murmured into your hair. “Would’a killed those bastards if ya were actually dead.”

“Believe me, I’m still gonna kill them. They left me for dead. They don’t deserve any mercy.” A few beats of silence passed until you spoke up again. “Guess I should start working on my apology for the rest of our people, huh?”

“Nah. What ya need’a do s’rest. Get yer strength up so that ya can help me kick those assholes’ rear ends into next Tuesday. They understand yer frustrations. Ya really have nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” He placed another kiss to your head, before settling back against the pillows, allowing you to get comfortable against his chest. “Now try and get some sleep. Everybody’s eager to see ya and make sure yer alright. Keep tellin’ me to stop hoggin’ all’a yer attention.”

You giggled softly and nuzzled your face into his chest, turning yourself in a way to keep the pressure off of your wounded side. Your worries hadn’t evaporated, and you still didn’t know how you would be able to make it up to your family, but in the arms of the man you loved,—the man that hadn’t abandoned you and didn’t hate you for unfairly yelling at him—your worries quieted, making it possible to succumb to the alluring darkness that promised rest.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the press of Daryl’s lips against your head, and his whispered words. “I love ya, my lil’ firecracker. Nothin’, not even a bad mood, will ever change that.”

[florencesf1blog]

hii

please number 10 from the smut prompt list no.3 with charles, maybe reader went out to the store or something and he is looking for one of his rings that he lost and finds her toys so he waits for her and makes her use them :)

wrong drawer

Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

In which your boyfriend finds your…other partner.

Words: 908 Warnings: 18+, toys, voyeurism, language, poorly translated french (they do NOT teach you the dirty stuff in school)

Days like these were your favorite. The short period of time your boyfriend wasn’t occupied with training, racing or whatever media duties Ferrari put him up with. Right now, it was just the two of you.

Usually, Charles his romantic ass would try and go all out for you in the short amount of time you had together. But you assured him that a movie night on the couch would suffice.

The keys jingle as you turn the lock of the front door open, stepping foot inside your boyfriends apartment. You had gone out for a small 10 minutes to get some food, the small plastic bag hanging from your arm. You had expected Charles to be waiting for you on the couch, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Charles?” you call out, but you don’t get an answer. You put the bag down on the dining table, walking around the apartment in slight confusion. He wouldn’t have left while you were out. It made no sense.

Turning the handle of your bedroom door, you slowly open it to reveal Charles. You freeze once you notice the state of the scene. The bottom bedside drawer opened up, now no longer containing what it had before. Slowly, your eyes drift up towards Charles. The devious smirk on his face said it all. Once you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est?” (what is this?) he asks in an almost mocking manner. He knew exactly what he was holding, the sight of your tiny bullet vibrator in his hands making your cheeks flush red.

Do i lie? Tell him it’s something else? Maybe he’d believe me if i said it isn’t mine? ‘I’m holding on to that vibrator for a friend. Ha-ha’

“Mon cœur?” his voice breaks you out of your thought process, eyes drifting back up to meet this. “I use it when you’re gone. Just whenever i miss you and you’re far away and-“

“Show me.” his low, gruff voice stops your word vomit. And when you thought it couldn’t, your cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. “Show you?”

He nods his head simply, as if it is the most common request in the world. Maybe this should weird you out. Be the point where you cross the line. But the thought of him watching you, showing him that even the thought of him could make you feel that way was way more exciting than it should be.

He gets up from the bed, handing you your vibrator. This wasn’t the first time you’d use it, far from it. But all of it still felt new now that you had eyes on you. Slowly, you pull your sweats and panties down. Charles wat he’s your every move, his eyes roaming over your body. You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself on your back with your legs up. Like a hawk, Charles watches as you slowly inch the toy closer to your center.

“Plus grand, ma belle” (wider) he commands as his hand ticks your ankle. Your legs spread further, giving him the full view of your wet pussy. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl escape him at the sight, making you feel a bit more confident. Letting the toy run through your folds, it comes to life as you press the button. A sigh of pleasure and relief escapes you as the ache between your legs is getting taken care of.

You position the vibrator on your clit, a gentle moan escaping your lips at the friction. Your hips buck upwards at the sensation, chest heaving up and down. It was a new type of pleasure, knowing you were being watched constantly. You circle it around, adding to your please as you put out a soft “Charles” to break the silence.

“Tellement jolie…” (so pretty) he nearly growls at the sight, his hard on stretching through his jeans. “Putain…” (fuck)

Knowing how much this turned him on it encouraged you to put on a show. Legs spreading wider, moans becoming louder and more frequent. You knew exactly what god him every single time.

You inch the vibrator down, slowly letting it into your pussy with a wet noise. A groan escapes as you move it in and out of yourself, your wetness dripping onto the sheets. You feel yourself get closer and closer as you let the vibrator go back up to your clit and switch in between the two. Charles knows the signs. The way your legs would start to tremble, the way your moans would become more frequent and your breathing heavier.

“That’s it bébé, jouis pour moi” (baby, cum for me) he mutters, and as you glance down at him it doesn’t take long before you do. He was basically drooling over you, his eyes so focused on the way your hand pushed the vibrator in and out of you. It was as if he was absolutely mesmerized. And it was enough to send you over the edge, a string of moans and some curses escaping you.

You let yourself ride out your high before putting the toy down, still panting from the overwhelming sensation. Charles stands back up to his full form, undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers, freeing his hard on.

“Nous n'en avons pas terminé, mon amour” (we are not done, my love)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: got a lot of lando and oscar requests but thought id do a charles one first for some variation. btw i got like 30 requests within 30mins so i have a lot of writing to do. hope u guys enjoyed thise one :)

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 10

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Ch.Notes: no notes this ch

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have a talk about their feelings for you. After that emotional conversation they meet you at the hospital to visit Dragos.

An: If I were to say things get more real next chapter how would you feel...

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The rest of the work day drags for Natasha and Wanda. Both women having other things on their mind. However, with Kate and Y/n out of the office on a hectic day like this, they couldn’t afford to dwell too much.

“Sestra, can we call it a day? I've never taken this many calls in my life,” Pietro barges into his sisters office.

“If you want to go home, then go,” she waves her hand dismissively at him.

“What’s got you so snappy?”

When Wanda’s eyes meet Pietro she’s glaring at him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m trying to run the company our father built on my own.”

Pietro raises his brow, “On your own? Discrediting my work is normal for you, but to act as if Y/n wasn’t running this place last night is bullshit.”

“Well she’s not here now,” Wanda mumbles under her breath.

“Why? Where is she?”

Wanda can’t hide the small clench in her jaw, “Kate took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s in good hands sestra if that’s what's worrying you,” Pietro tries to console her.

Wanda doesn’t want to speak about it any further, “I’m going to see papa whenever I’m done with this do you want to come?”

The way that Pietro's goofy features turn serious never cease to amaze Wanda, “I can’t tonight, I have a date.”

Wanda rolls her eye, “You’d rather get laid than see our father?”

Pietro shakes his head, “No, but this isn’t just some girl. I want this to be serious and I can’t afford to stand her up.”

The red head is slightly surprised, but she nods along, “I’ll tell him about it, I bet he’d be glad to hear you taking something seriously for once.”

He chuckles a bit before going quiet. He looks at Wanda similar to the way a needy child looks at their parent.

“Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“He has too,” the words are heavy as they leave her lips. She has a small smile placed on her face as she continues, “Mama will kill him if he doesn't.”

“Don’t work too hard sestra,” he speaks sincerely taking his leave.

“Enjoy your date,” Wanda says as he walks out of the door.

When he leaves she lets out a heavy sigh. For the first time today she lays her head down on her desk, exhaustion starting to plague her.

Thoughts of her responsibilities as the person in charge rain down on her. This was the end goal that she wanted, but never at this great of cost. She wished her father would wake up and reclaim his place because she didn’t feel ready.

She was focusing as hard as she could, but her mind always strays to her brother’s best friend. Your delicate skin pressing against hers in the morning or the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, or those doe eyes that she could sense staring at her.

Wanda debates for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and dialing the girl. It rings for a while before there's finally an answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey, little krolik. I just wanted to check on you. Nat told me you went home today,” Wanda keeps her tone level.

You sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m ok. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m sorry for stepping out, I know that's not how we do business.”

“It’s no different than me leaving yesterday. This line of work takes a toll on you.”

She can’t see it, but you nod, “I’m feeling better now. I still want to go see pa- Dragos. Maybe I could have Kate drop me off and I’ll meet you two there?”

“You’re with Kate?” Wanda can’t stop herself from asking the question.

“Yeah she took me home and decided to keep me company,” you say nonchalantly.

“I could’ve taken you,” Wanda tries to play it cool.

You disagree with her, “I didn't want to bother you while you were working. It was a hectic day, truth be told I didn't even want to leave.”

Wanda’s tone is strong as she speaks, “I will never be too busy for you Y/n.”

“Wanda-”

“I mean it. I know I’m supposed to move past it, but I missed a lot while I was gone. I couldn’t be there for you like I wanted to. Now that I’m back I’d like to be there for you as much as I can. I still want to be the one you lean on,” Wanda let herself be vulnerable with you.

You were taken aback by her admission. It felt like it was impossible for you to come up with a response. It wasn’t like she was saying something you hadn't heard from her before, but her words felt heavier somehow.

“I know you'll be there for me, Wanda . You don't have to prove it.”

Wanda frowns lightly, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just- it’s hard knowing I’m not the first person you come to when you’re in need. I know you've grown out of needing people for the most part, but I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. Nat and I will meet you at the hospital.”

Wanda doesn't give you a chance to respond as she hangs up the phone. She scolds herself about how needy she sounded during the call.

“I think I’m finished up for today, whenever you’re ready to go,” Natasha strolls into the office.

Wanda stares at the computer screen for a moment, “I should be ready in half an hour.”

Natasha plops down on the couch of her wife’s office. It’s silent for a moment until Nat shifts on the couch which makes noise fill the office.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“ About what?” Wanda keeps her attention on the screen.

“What I said about being jealous of Kate?”

Wanda’s brow furrows, “Not particularly.”

Natasha strides over to the woman’s desk chair and places herself in Wanda’s lap. Wanda’s arms loop around the woman’s waist holding her in place.

“We need to talk about this moya lyubov,” the spy places gentle kisses on the base of Wanda’s neck.

The other woman whines, “Why?”

“Because we’re married and you’re in love with Y/n,” Natasha states plainly.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “You were jealous too.”

Natasha nods, “I was and I don’t have a problem admitting it.”

Wanda’s face buries itself in the crook of Natasha’s neck, “So what does this all mean?”

“I like her too,” Natasha states bluntly.

“ I don’t want to lose you,” Wanda’s voice is small as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha softly places her hand on Wanda’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You will never lose me Wanda. I married you because I’m completely, utterly, madly in love with you. That feeling hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“I love you too,” Wanda’s eyes shine as they bore into Natasha’s.

“ I think we should think about what it would be like to add Y/n into our relationship dynamic,” Natasha speaks, but it sounds like a question.

Wanda tenses briefly, “I can admit that I have feelings for Y/n, but I don’t know if I can act on these feelings Nat.”

“Why not?”

Wanda closes her eyes, “I’ve known her too long, Nat. She’s the same age as my little brother, not to mention she's his best friend. If she doesn’t feel the same way, this will ruin everything.”

“Detka-”

“I don’t know if it’s better or worst that we both want her. How would we even tell her Natasha? I don’t want to lose anymore time with her,” Wanda begins to get emotional.

Natasha cups her wife’s face in both of her hands, “Baby, I know you’re scared. This is scary, I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that you love her and I think I could too. We’ve spent so much of our lives sacrificing for others, but I’m ready to sacrifice something for my own sake, aren’t you?”

“I am, but not at the expense of my relationship Y/n. I just got her back, Natasha. I’m not saying I never want to tell her, but I can’t do this now,” Wanda tries to turn her head away from her wife.

Natasha doesn’t let her, but instead places a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. Wanda relaxes under Natasha’s touch, feeling all of the stress of the day seeping out of her body.

“ Don’t hide from me, Wanda. I want you to share your feelings, I won’t ever judge you,” Natasha whispers against the taller woman’s lips.

“I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you’re ready but-”

Natasha shakes her head, “It’s not just about me, it’s about us. I don’t want to push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. If you want to pursue Y/n, I’m with you, but if you don’t, I'm still with you.”

Wanda nods softly, “I want to, but I- I need time.”

Natasha kisses her again, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Now finish up so we can go.”

“You’re not going to move?” Wanda questions her wife.

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh, “ You can’t work around me?”

Wanda scoots herself into the desk. She slightly pushes Natasha to press into her further. The spy’s head is in the nape of Wanda’s neck.

“I can and if I’m being honest it’s my preferred method of doing work,” Wanda begins to focus on the computer again.

She works diligently with her wife in her lap. Having Natasha there makes her work go by a little faster and feel a lot less stressful. She finishes up within the hour.

Once she’s done Wanda shoots a text to Y/n saying that they were headed to the hospital. The girl replies saying she’ll meet them there.

Natasha drives, one hand on the wheel and the other holds Wanda’s hand. Her thumb caresses the back of the passengers hand trying to provide comfort, knowing that this was not an easy task for her.

Wanda had only visited her father once. She hated seeing him in such a fragile state. It almost didn't feel like he was her father. He couldn’t be the same man that took her to the city fair, the same mam that placed flowers in her hair, the man that invested his entire life in her dreams, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t the man that kept her safe from her nightmares, because looking at him in this state was beginning to feel like one.

When they arrived they went inside the building.

“If you don’t tell me what room he is in you won't live to the end of the week to regret it,” you argue with the receptionist.

Kate’s behind you her hand resting on your shoulder trying to pull you out of the conflict.

“It’s family only mam, one more outburst and I will have security throw you out,” the receptionist said causing a vein to pop in your neck.

“Is there a problem here?” Natasha speaks up first.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the receptionist snaps at the spy.

You interrupt, “You don't talk to her like that.”

Before things escalate any further Wanda slams her hand on the receptionist’s desk with her card under her palm.

“Now tell me what room my father is in, “ Wanda’s eyes look fiery as she stared at the receptionist.

The receptionist looks at the card bestie her eyes go wide, “Terribly sorry for the mix up Mrs. Maximoff, didn’t know she was in your company.”

Wanda peers down at the receptionist, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I don't ever want to hear you address either of these ladies in a disrespectful manner again.”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff sorry about that. It won’t happen again. He’s in room 286,” the receptionist looked ten sizes smaller.

You can’t help but give the woman a death glare as you head towards the elevator. Kate stops you on the way.

“I’m going to head home are you going to be alright?” Her eyes subtly glance in Wanda and Natasha’s direction.

“I’ll be fine Katie,” you reassure her.

“Ok just checking. Text me later and make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Kate pulls you into a tight hug.

The sound of someone clearing their throat ends your hug with the doe eyed girl. Kate smiles at you upon the release of the hug, she then waves goodbye, leaving you with the married couple.

“And you’re sure you and Kate aren’t dating?” Wanda can’t help, but comment.

You roll your eyes, “Positive, Katie and I are just friends.”

“What did you do after you left work ?”

You all pile into the elevator as you answer, “Nothing really. We just watched some tv and ordered some food. How was it at the office?”

Wanda goes to answer but Natasha stops her, “No work talk out of the office.”

“Well then what are we going to talk to Dragos about?” You attempt to joke in hopes of brightening the mood.

“ You can call him Papa you know?” Wanda takes her time looking at you.

“I know-”

She cuts you off, “Mama too.”

You nod to yourself, “I know, it’s just not my normal.”

Natasha speaks up, “It honestly feels like you’re fighting against their names when you say them. Mama and Papa sound natural coming from you."

“It feels like they are my parents.”

“They are,” Wanda grabs onto your hand as you approach Dragos’ room.

The air feels different when you enter the room. It’s hard to look at him in such a state. He lies still on the hospital bed with machinery hooked up to him. There are less machines than originally, but still too many in your eyes.

Flora sits by the side of the bed with her hand in his. The view is somber, it takes nearly everything in you not to cry. Almost as if she can sense the tension building in your body, Wanda squeezes your hand.

“How’s he been Mama?” Wanda’s moved closer to her mother’s side, dragging you with her.

“The same, but the doctors are saying that's a good thing for now at least,” she sighs heavily.

“And how are you Mama?” You ask looking over the woman’s features.

Flora sends you a small smile, “I’m tired sweetheart, but I’ll live.”

“Have you been going home?” Wanda questions further.

“To shower and change clothes.”

Wanda’s voice takes a stern tone, “Mama, you need to rest.”

The older woman shakes her head, “I can't leave him for too long.”

“He wouldn’t want you spending all your time here,” you say softly.

“It’s not about what he wants for once. If he didn’t want me here he would’ve listened when I told him going to meet Fisk alone was a bad idea,” she glares at her sleeping husband.

“I’ll have his head for this,” Wanda gets agitated at the mention of Kingpin.

“Blowing up the ports wasn’t enough?” Flora comments.

“Power move, just to prove that there are no cracks in our business affairs,” Wanda’s jaw sets.

Flora looks at her daughter, “He’s not going to take this lying down.”

“I know.”

You squeeze Wanda’s hand to reassure her, “ We’ll be ready for him."

Flora lets out a sad laughter, “You sound just like him Y/n.”

“ That’s a compliment for the ages. I hope I could be half of the person he is,” your gaze falls into your lap.

“You already are. You kids have always made us both so proud.”

You desperately want to ask more about Dragos’ condition, but you refrain. The conversation stays light as you reminisce about the man.

Natasha doesn't say much, but her presence does provide someone to share with. She's hearing most things about her father-in-law for the first time. She's getting a good look into the man he is.

She pays attention to the way you and Wanda both light up when sharing stories. It warms her heart to see the two of you looking genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.

When it’s time to go the mood drops a bit, but not too much. It’s when Natasha goes to follow Wanda and Y/n out of the room when Flora stops her.

“You make sure they're taking care of themselves,” Flora hugs the redhead and whispers in her ear.

Natasha nods, “I will Mrs.Maximoff.”

They head home after that, exhaustion finally catching up to them.

A small dilemma plagues your mind when you get home. Part of you wishes to go with Wanda and Natasha into their apartment where you know you can get a good night's rest. The other part of you tells you that you shouldn't make it a habit. It's a lose-lose situation.

Begrudgingly you decide to go to your own apartment.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you try and give a small goodbye.

Wanda grabs your forearm, “You can come over tonight, if you need to. No matter the time. Alright, little krolik?”

Your eyes shift over to Natasha who smile, showing agreement with her wife, “The door is always open for you.”

You struggle to keep your composure, “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Your house feels extra empty as you enter. The weight of the day sets into your system. Getting ready for bed seems pointless as you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

Staring at the ceiling seems different, knowing that across the hall was the woman that you had spent your teen years pining over. Yet, knowing that she could love you didn’t make your heart flutter like it was supposed to. It sent an anxiety running through your chest.

You knew that she was probably curled up in the bed next to her wife. Her drop dead gorgeous, kind hearted, Russian spy, wife. A woman in a league of her own, in her own right.

The thought didn’t make you jealous, but it had an adverse effect on you. You wanted to be there, to be involved, to be a part of what they had.

You groan placing a pillow over your head in a dull effort to quiet your thoughts.

Your phone rings on the dresser and you pick it up, and mumble a hello with the pillow still over your head.

“Come over.”

“Natasha?”

There’s a hum over the line, “Yes, are you coming or do I need to come get you?”

You shuffle out of the bed, keeping the phone to your ear, “Is something wrong?”

“Well-"

She’s cut off by her wife, “Come to bed little krolik. I need the extra warmth.”

Natasha chuckles, “Wanda refuses to sleep in your absence. She’s getting a little grumpy.”

“ I’m not grumpy. Tell her to hurry,” Wanda argues with Natasha.

This makes your heart flutter like it’s supposed to, “Are you sure it’s ok Nat?”

“ Lisichka I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you back in our bed.”

You feel a blush take over your features as you exit your home.

“ Ok, open the door,” you murmur and it takes no time for the spy to let you into her home.

Natasha looks exhausted as she grabs you by the arm and drags you wordlessly to the bedroom.

Wanda’s already in the bed and when she sees you she does a grabbing motion towards you. You shake your head before climbing into the bed. She wraps her arm around your waist and snuggles closer to you.

“You sleep here now. It’s better for all of us,” She mumbles against your skin.

“Ok,” you don’t fight her on it, knowing she’d probably forget in the morning.

You look up at Natasha shyly. She still stands over the bed. In a similar fashion to Wanda, you stick out your arms for her.

Natasha grins as she climbs into your arms. You carefully drape your arm over the spy, resting your hand against her flat stomach.

For the second night in a row you find yourself comfortable in their bed. You all think about how you shouldn’t indulge in this feeling, scared it won’t last.

It’s like the couple can read your mind. Wanda’s hold on you tightens and Natasha turns to face you. They keep you safe in their embrace and the thoughts in your head quiet.

No one says anything, but you all feel it. There’s a shift in your relationship and you won’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader

[sagesolsticewrites]

religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips

in which Steve takes care of you after a bad day

- including but not limited to: praise kink, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), Steve lowkey being a service dom 👀

(this is. very self-indulgent. very veryyyyyy self-indulgent. you have been warned <3)

a/n: huuuge shoutout to @upsidedownwithsteve's (aka Emmy, Queen of Smutty Sunday <3) most recent smutty Sunday event for giving me inspiration to write my very first smutty fic! Obligatory disclaimer that yes, this is my very first smut fic ever, I am an ✨asexual virgin✨ please manage expectations accordingly, yada yada yada. Also so many hugs to my bestie Kenz @fangirl-imagines for looking this over before I posted it ☺️ Kenzie has some incredible fics, go support her y'all!

Word count: 2870

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT. MINORS BEGONE. 🔞

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

You let yourself into your apartment with a sigh, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as you step over the threshold into your home and finally toe off your heels.

Bypassing the darkened kitchen and empty living room, you open the door to your bedroom, where you knew you’d find a shirtless Steve in the middle of his post-work ritual of playing some game on his computer.

He looks up as you enter, face brightening with a smile as he greets you.

“Hey baby, how was—”

In lieu of an answer, you flop face first onto the bed with a groan.

You can hear the smile fade from his voice as he hisses sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

You lift your chin so it’s propped up on the pillow as you explain your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

“You know that project that Marie was working on? She asked me for help on it, and I gave her some pointers, but she said she still wasn’t really understanding it so I ended up having to do all of it for her. And she’ll probably take all the credit for it, too.” You grumble, rolling your eyes, “And we had that meeting with our new clients, and my boss basically volun-told me to take notes for it, even though that’s really the liason’s job, and then she criticized me for not taking as detailed notes as Lauren even though that’s literally Lauren’s job! And she was there, she could’ve taken the notes, I don’t even—”

You shake your head in exasperation, shifting topics, “And then I didn’t even have time for lunch because Sara wanted me to help train the interns, and…” You end your rant with a groan, letting your face drop back into the pillow. “‘M just. So tired.”

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice turns soft as the pillow underneath your head, and he gets up from his spot at the desk to climb onto the bed, pulling you into his arms.

You curl into him instinctively, your head finding that space in the crook of his neck that feels like it was made for you personally, one hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing patterns along the freckles and moles dotted along his skin.

“What can I do to help, honey?” Your boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Jus’ wanna… I dunno, just. Stop.” You mumble against his shoulder, shrugging and curling further into him.

He hums in understanding, grabbing the hand that’s currently drawing invisible hearts around the moles near his collarbone and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’ve been doing so much for everyone today,” he murmurs, voice layered with understanding and adoration as he leans in and peppers tiny kisses over your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, and you relax even more as his voice washes over you, “Worked so hard.”

He pulls you closer, scattering kisses all over as you finally release all the tension you’ve been holding, letting out a sigh and shifting in his arms to face him. You don’t realize you’re straddling him until you’re pressed nearly flush against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His lips brush over every part of your face, down to your neck and then back up as you become putty in his hands, murmuring soft words of praise to you the whole time.

“You just need to stop working now, huh? Need to stop thinking,” His lips draw a path to your ear, where he whispers, “need to let someone else do all the work, huh, baby?”

A shiver runs down your spine, constantly in awe of the power just his voice has over you. His hand settles on your hip, a comforting, grounding weight while his other hand brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead. His lips work their way back down over your cheek, stopping to hover just over yours, mouths brushing together as he murmurs in a voice like silk, “Is that what you want, honey? Want me to take care of you?”

Warm chocolate eyes meet yours, soft, caring, always ensuring he has your consent before he does anything.

At your near-imperceptible nod, he drags his hand up to cup your chin, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

“Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to surge up and capture your lips with his.

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, his hands move to the thin strip of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. Your kisses become hungrier, ignoring your need for oxygen in favor of Steve’s plush, kiss-swollen lips, and he slowly drags up the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss briefly to get your permission.

At your eager nod, your shirt is off and tossed to some corner of the room, his mouth eagerly on yours once more.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this through his sweats, and you instinctively begin to rock in his lap, dragging your increasingly damp core over his.

His hands grip your hips, the familiar feeling sending a thrill through you… but rather than guiding your movements like he normally would, he holds them still.

You pull away, brow furrowed, but before you can voice your confusion, he flips you onto your back, moving to hover over you in one smooth movement.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips in a tone that sends a pulse of scorching heat to your core, “I’m doing all the work, sweetheart.”

The whimper you let out is muffled by his lips on yours once more, his wandering hands and hungry kisses making short work of turning you into a moaning, gasping mess.

“Steve,” you whine out his name as his lips travel down to your neck, and you can feel his smile against the hollow of your throat before he returns to licking and sucking dark patches into your skin, the occasional use of his teeth making delicious shivers shoot up your spine.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a mischievous twinkle mixed with the searing heat in them turning you molten as he asks, “What do you need?”

Unable to find the words, your hand finds his hair instead — God, that hair — and begins pushing him down towards where you really want him.

“‘M gettin’ there, honey, I promise,” he grins, pausing your efforts to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “Lemme take my time and I promise it’ll be worth it, ok?”

He reaches up to toy with the strap of your bra— a simple nude thing you could get away with wearing under a white shirt at work— a questioning look in his eyes answered by a furious nod from you.

He makes short work of the clasp, and that really should not be as hot as it is, but— oh who are you kidding, even his breathing is insanely hot right now.

You throw your head back as he presses kisses all over your chest, mumbling against your skin the whole time about how pretty you are, just gorgeous sweetheart, God, I can’t believe I get to do this for you…

Your head goes deliciously fuzzy with the praise, and you can’t quite form words so all you can do when he takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it for good measure, is let out a keening “Ohhh” and instinctively tighten your grip on his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groans, the noise sending heat racing through your body, and you grin knowing you were the one to elicit it, “You sound fucking incredible.” He murmurs more praise as he turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it just as much attention and eliciting more gasps and moans and whines from you before he continues his journey south.

You lift your head and watch as Steve Harrington fucking beams when he reaches your stomach, your pouch poking out slightly more than you’d like over the waistband of your jeans.

He meets your eyes, his own swimming with sincerity as he begins to scatter kisses over your midsection.

“You”

Kiss

“Are”

Kiss

“Fucking”

Kiss

“Stunning”

Kiss

When it seems like he’s covered every single inch of your exposed skin in kisses, remaining stubbornly focused on your torso when what you really want is for him to be significantly lower, he meets your eyes as he plays with the waistband of your jeans, once again wordlessly asking your permission.

And once again, your furious nodding is all the consent he needs to peel your jeans off and toss them away.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, wide eyes on where your jeans once were, “Honey. Baby. Are you trying to kill me?” He says in a strangled voice at the sight of your simple lacy panties in a deep, wine-purple color— a color Steve once drunkenly confessed was his favorite, though he told anyone who asked he preferred red.

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain your grin, “I thought you might like those.”

“Like them?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up through lidded eyes to meet your gaze as his own darkens, “I never wanna see you in anything else again.”

Your toes curl, and your breaths become shallow in anticipation as he scatters slow kisses all along your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart, stopping when he gets to the edge of the purple lace.

He holds your gaze, gauging your reaction as instead of pulling them down over your hips to toss to yet another corner of the room, he simply…

Pulls.

The lace.

To the side.

You barely have time to let out a quiet, shaky, “Oh my God,” at the ravenous look on Steve’s face before his mouth is on you and you forget how to think, you forget how to breathe, you forget everything except Steve.

Let it be known: Steve Harrington knew how to eat a girl out.

He licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him, his current strategy both too much and not enough.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes, pressing a single kiss to your clit that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, before diving in.

His tongue finds your entrance with ease, the way his nose pushes through the thatch of wiry hair to nudge at your clit providing extra stimulation as he makes short work of making you fall apart. His tongue swirls through your folds as he lets out a languid moan at your taste.

“So fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your core, “So perfect, lettin’ me take care of you. This is all you needed, huh?” His eyes flick up to meet yours as you shudder and moan underneath him, struggling to keep your eyes on him.

He licks another languid path through your folds, savoring your taste, before continuing, his voice muffled as he licks and sucks at your entrance “Jus’ needed me to give you a break, needed me to tell you it’s okay to turn off your brain and jus’—” Steve punctuates his last words by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently “—be a good girl for me.”

The combination of stimulation to your clit and Steve’s words has your hips arching off the bed, despite your boyfriend’s best efforts to keep you still. You can feel him grin against you and let out a dark chuckle at the moan you let out at his last words in particular, the way your hand tightens and pulls at his hair all the evidence he needs.

Still, he asks you, though he doesn’t quite expect a coherent response.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like it when I call you a good girl? You like bein’ a good girl for me?” He purrs in a voice like syrup, lips still brushing your folds.

“Fuck, I— yes, Stevie,” you whine brokenly, gently gripping his hair in an attempt to bring him closer to where you want him, whimpering softly, “Stevie please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, scattering kisses frustratingly just outside your core, “Jus’ trust me, I gotcha.”

You resist the urge to move, to just grab him and put him where you want him, even as you let out a frustrated whine.

Just as your patience is about to run out, you feel him smirk against you before diving back in, holding your legs apart as he sloppily licks and sucks at your entrance, his tongue diving deep inside you.

You let out a gasping moan as he attacks your core, practically clawing at his hair in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, your brain going fuzzy and then melting entirely when you hear the endless praise falling from his lips as he eats you out.

“So good for me sweetheart, just perfect— shit, do you have any idea how good you taste?” He groans against you, his thumb coming up to gently circle your clit as his other hand moves to splay flat over your hips, holding you as still as he can, “Could do this all fuckin’ day, god you’re amazing sweetheart—”

Then he clamps his lips around your clit and moans, and you’re fairly certain you’re going to die of pleasure, both your hands flying to grip his hair and yank as your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows, mouth open to let out a high, keening moan.

When you come back to your body, Steve is back to gently licking through your folds, and your hands claw at him, needing him to be closer.

“Steve,” you whine, “Stevie please, ‘m so close, I jus’— I need— please, baby.”

As your words turn into incoherent moans and pleas, Steve is quick to assure you, thumb returning to playing with your clit as he mumbles against you, “I know, honey, I know what you need and ‘m gonna give it to you, I promise. Been so good for me today, taken such good care of everyone, now it’s your turn, ‘m gonna make you feel so, so fuckin’ good, baby—”

He dives into you once more, thumb rhythmically circling your clit as his tongue hits every spot inside you in a pattern that has you turning to liquid underneath him, your legs hooking together behind his back to keep him right there, and your vision goes white as Steve brings you towards your release.

You let out a cry as you hit your climax, and Steve dutifully guides you through your orgasm, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, mouth glistening and pupils dilated wide. Your hand cards through his soft brown waves, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Steve brushes gentle kisses to your inner thigh, your hipbone, your stomach, following a path up to capture your lips with his own, swallowing the contented sigh you let out.

He pulls away, meeting your gaze with a smile as he pecks your nose.

“Feelin’ better?”

You hum contentedly, “Much.” Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek as you pointedly glance down, “What about you?”

Steve lets out a mock-annoyed groan, forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“Baby, we just went over the whole thing about you not needing to take care of everyone.”

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, “Seriously, though,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you into his chest, “I’m fine. This was about you, and I’m so glad I could help take care of you for once.”

You cup his cheek, turning his face to yours. You hope he can see every sincere, tender thought in your expression as you simply say, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He murmurs in response, lips quirking up into a small smile as he turns to press a quick kiss to your palm.

“So,” he says, fingers stroking through your hair, nudging your eyes closed, “nap time and then appetizer dinner? We’ve got mozzarella sticks and some chicken tenders I can throw in the oven.”

You grin, despite already being half-asleep, “That sounds perfect.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus one”

“I love you—”

“Alright, let’s call it a tie, babe.”

Tagging a couple friends! Hi besties @austin-butlers-gf @sassy-ahsoka-tano @dontbesussis

[marble-anime]

Really, love, it’s fine

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader, Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

Summary: Sanemi becomes jealous of your developing friendship with Giyuu. Not wanting to have to choose between them, you suggest that they 'kiss and make up'.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI, Unedited

Warnings: smut, angst, feelings, mentions of violence, jealous Sanemi, threesome, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 6.9k

Sanemi fastened his belt as he stepped out of the storage closet with you stumbling after him, adjusting your clothes so you didn’t look like a disheveled mess. The scent of sex trailed after the two of you, as per usual. You followed him outside to the training grounds. Vast land that stretched out further that you could see with healthy green grass and strong trees. The faraway mountains were covered with fluffy clouds as the warm sun caked the scenery in an orange hue.

The Hashira had all taken the day to train together. Using their own breathing styles and picking up different tips and tricks from the others. Adapting their fighting techniques and improving their swordsmanship. This was your first time seeing Sanemi again after you’d both come back from different missions. So naturally, you two snuck off for a moment to yourselves, just as you’d done many times before at the Hashira meetings.

But now it was time to get back to training. With most of the other Pillars already having sparring partners, you looped your arms around Sanemi’s. “Let’s train together ‘Nemi.”

He watched you latch onto him with a smug smile. “What, are you completely hopeless without me?” His words were laced with arousal, the feeling of you needing him turned him on like nothing else. “Is that what it is?”

“You wish,” you said, not thinking much of the joke until you spotted Obanai and Mitsuri making their way over to you. You tightened your grip on Sanemi’s arm, the action only furthering to stroke his ego.

“Clingy, clingy,” he sang.

“I am not,” you blushed, embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of your friends.

“You sure?” Obanai asked, of course siding with his best friend, “You always attach yourself to him. Following him around like a puppy.”

Like you’re one to talk, you thought, always fawning over Mitsuri. You fought the urge to correct him and tell him that half the time it was Sanemi who was dragging you away for a moment of bliss. If you were needy then so was he. You stared straight ahead of you, looking at nothing in particular, because you knew that if you looked up at Sanemi you’d want to slap that stupid smirk off his face.

“Iguro, don’t tease her,” Mitsuri whined.

At least someone was on your side.

“It’s adorable how much she likes him!”

You could’ve died from embarrassment but you couldn’t be mad. You knew she meant well. She’d always indulged you, letting you gush over the guy you liked while she shared what she found attractive about him. Almost everyone in the demon slayer corps was terrified of the Wind Pillar, it felt nice to have a friend who didn’t judge you for sleeping with him. Mitsuri was the only one who really understood how you felt about him.

Sanemi barked a laugh at her words and let go of his arm, taking a step back to address both him and Obanai.

“Alright, you know what, you two?” The two boys said nothing, their tantalizing stares daring her to do something. They clearly weren’t taking her seriously. “I’m gonna go hang out with Giyuu instead of you assholes.”

Sanemi snorted as you turned your back to them, his eyes hungerly taking in your figure as you walked away.

“Good luck,” Obanai teased.

Mitsuri clapped her hands, thinking that her snake of a crush was being genuine, and also called out to you, wishing you good luck while you approached the Water Hashira. He was in a one-sided conversation with Shinobu, she was chastising and teasing him as usual while he responded in one word answers. You tapped the Butterfly Pillars shoulder and asked if you could steal Giyuu away for a training session.

She didn’t reply right away, truthfully you’d caught both of them off guard. Although you were pretty friendly, they were shocked that you’d want to spend your time with Giyuu of all people. After all, most of your time was occupied by Sanemi who hated his guts. “Sure,” she smiled. Maybe this would be good for him. “Maybe you’ll finally make a new friend, Tomioka.”

“I have friends,” he insisted, but she had already left.

“Hi, Giyuu,” you greeted him politely.

“Hi,” was all he said, his expression blank.

Oh god, your face heated up, this was already embarrassing. Maybe you should’ve just left him alone. Even some of the nicer Pillars had trouble befriending him as he didn’t put much effort into socializing. You mentally sighed trying to think of a conversation starter. “I like your haori.”

“Thanks.”

He wasn’t making this easy but you were determined. “Do the mismatched patterns have a meaning or is it just a style choice?”

He stared at you for a moment and you feared that you’d offended him in some way until he spoke, “The red half is for my sister and the other is for a close friend.”

“Cool, are they demon slayers too?” you asked, relieved that this conversation was going somewhere even though it was still a little awkward. But when he broke eye contact, hanging his head low, your relief was drowned by sadness for him.

“Oh.” It wasn’t hard to tell what had become of them, there wasn't a member in the demon slayer corps who hadn’t at least lost someone. For most it was used as a motivator to rid the world of demons and keep others from suffering the way they did, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Honestly, it was a pretty heavy topic to start off a friendship with but you supposed a lot of demon slayers had built relationships through trauma bonds. You tried to offer him some type of comfort, “I think it’s kind that you want to honor them. I’m sure they were lovely people.”

“They were.” A soft smile graced his features, hearing someone speak of his loved ones so kindly filled him with warmth as he reminisced on the good times he had with them.

His reaction encouraged you to keep the conversation going, with a smile of your own you suggested, “Maybe you could tell me about them while we train?”

Sanemi had been watching from afar with an amused gaze as you struggled to interact with the Hashira’s most antisocial Pillar. Your face was flushed and you sheepishly fiddled with your hands while he was giving you absolutely nothing. Had he not found the whole situation amusing he probably would’ve picked a fight with the guy for making you feel uncomfortable. You really couldn’t do anything with him, could you?

His enjoyment died down, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach at the rare sight of the Water Pillars smile. He was smiling because of you. You were probably the friendliest of all the pillars, he figured, if anyone could get through to him it would be you. He was trying to talk some sense to himself so he could shake this unpleasant feeling.

It wasn’t long before you both got into a fighting stance, ready to begin training. This calmed him down. He didn’t know why he was getting so worked up, it was only a training session nothing more. Plus, it was one interaction, after today you two would probably go back to barely speaking. He focused on Obanai who stood across from him on the defensive, distracting himself as he prepared for some training of his own. Had he known of the connection that would stem from your conversation with Giyuu, he would’ve marched over there and ended it before it had begun.

When he’d been called to the next Hashira meeting, anxiety flared up in the pit of the Wind Pillars stomach. He kicked rocks as he made his way to the Ubuyashiki Estate, trying to ignore the stirring in his gut. He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep them from shaking as the Mansion came into view. He rounded the corner and you were in front of him in an instant. You greeted him and asked how he’d been since the last Pillar meeting. 

His emotions settled. Of course everything would be the same, why wouldn’t it? He wrapped an arm around you, his possessive grip nearly had you in a chokehold. You didn't mind, nuzzling your head into his chest, you relished in the affection. His hand trailed down your body to give your ass a rough squeeze as he whispered in your ear, “We’ve still got about twenty minutes before the meeting starts. I think I could make you feel good and have you back here in fifteen, whaddaya say?”

You ended up sneaking away so Sanemi could have a snack between your thighs. He was right, you two made it back to the others before the meeting could begin and all was well. Until you slipped from his grasp so you could talk to Giyuu. But your conversation was cut short when Sanemi’s arms snaked around you like a cage as he practically dragged you away.

Ever since then the Hashira meetings had been hell for Sanemi. For a while, he’d been able to keep you away from Tomioka. But then you made time to hang out with him until Sanemi showed up. And after that when he made it a point to show up to the estate before the both of you, you’d always find a way to slip out of his hold so you could socialize with Giyuu. What really grinded his gears was how you and your new ‘friend’ would know things about each other that you hadn’t disguised in previous meetings, which meant that you two had to be sending each other letters.

Sanemi hated every second of it. He was fine with you being friends with the other Pillars, sure. But the chemistry you seemed to have with the Water Pillar left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt like he was going crazy. What could that loser possibly give you that he couldn’t? Technically you two weren’t officially a couple, but you were close enough weren’t you? Sanemi hadn’t entertained anyone but you. Maybe none of this would be happening if he would’ve just trained with you that day.

The final nail in the coffin was when the Kamado siblings had been detained and brought to the Ubuyashiki Estate. Rage bubbled up inside him at the thought of one of the demon slayer corp’s very own stabbing them in the back to protect a monster. To Sanemi, the Kamado boy may as well have spit in the face of all the souls who’d been unfortunate enough to lose someone to a demon. His anger boiled over the top when he saw you with that pathetic water hashira once again.

You begged and pleaded for him to stop but you’d only worsened his mood. He hated the way you looked at him like he was the monster for simply carrying out his duty as a demon slayer. He stared down at Nezuko as blood gushed from her shoulder where he’d stabbed her. Her eyes bore into his with a fury that mirrored his own. She was nothing more than a man eating beast hidden behind the appearance of a little girl, why couldn’t you see that? Even with the ringing in his ears he could hear your voice as clear as day, begging Giyuu to do something, to stop him. The sound of your panicked voice seeking the comfort of another man ate away at him.

Her mouth watered, drool dripping down her chin as the scents of Sanemi’s marechi blood flooded her senses. The hunger would consume her and she would attack him, he was sure of it and he’d prove it to the other hashira, to master Ubuyashiki, to you. He did everything he could to provoke her and yet she still refused to harm him.

When Ubuyashiki finally put a stop to his cruel behavior, allowing Tanjiro to keep his position in the Demon Slayer Corps as well as continue protecting his sister, he’d also reprimanded Sanemi for tormenting the two. He internally cringed at his master's words but he obeyed nonetheless. Not once did he pick his head up as he kneeled to show his respect, too afraid of seeing whatever emotion your face displayed. He could guess that it was something along the lines of disgust, disappointment, anger, if he was unfortunate enough, maybe even regret.

He was able to avoid the disdain filled gaze that he was sure he’d see if his eyes met yours, only raising his head once the meeting was over and the Pillars were dismissed. When he finally gathered the courage to look up, you were already gone, having been one of the first Hashira to make your departure from the Estate. He wasn’t sure if he should consider himself lucky for not having to face your confrontation or unfortunate for not being able to explain himself. However, he’d get his answer before he even stepped foot out of the Ubuyashiki property, whether he liked it or not.

The thought of you and the possible damage he’d just done to your relationship plagued his mind as he walked along the gravel trail that led to the Estate’s entrance gate, the Manor slowly fading in the distance behind him. He froze in his tracks when he saw you, he thought you were long gone by now, but no, you were still here on the Estate’s grounds with him.

Seeing you with Tomioka lit an envious fire inside him, the hand that was placed on your arm as a means to comfort you only fueling the green flames. If Sanemi had been thinking right then maybe he would’ve realized that the scene in front of him was nothing like he thought. After all, Giyuu was the one who spared the Kamado siblings so of course you’d ask him questions to be able to grasp what exactly had happened at the meeting. That was all it was, no romance involved. But right now Sanemi was beyond reason, assuming the worst.

“What the hell is going on here?” He growled, effectively ceasing your conversation and gaining your attention. All it took was one look at him, his wide eyes and clenched fist, for you to know that he was fuming. Although you didn’t know what caused this reaction and had been blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil he’s had for months, you figured it would be best to end the fighting before it had begun. You pulled your arm from Giyuu’s hold and cautiously approached your lover, “Sanemi-”

He pushed past you and grabbed the Water Pillar by his haori, “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Giyuu said nothing, allowing Sanemi to thrash him around while you tightly wrapped your arms around his bicep, trying to pull him away from your friend without getting in between the two men. His lack of a response only angered Sanemi who began to yell threats in his face, you’d hoped that master Ubuyashiki was too far away to hear his harsh words. His aggression towards the stone-faced hashira finally dwindled when he heard your voice break. As his head snapped towards you he saw the tears brimming along the rims of your eyes.

Taking advantage of his stunned state, Giyuu pulled himself from Sanemi’s grasp and turned away from you two to continue walking down the path. You tried to stop him from leaving, wanting to resolve whatever was going on between them so that there wouldn’t be any tension between your two closest friends. Sanemi watched your interaction with a twinge of guilt, he hadn’t meant to upset you. Was this his fault? Was he scaring you away? Was this why you liked Tomioka so much? Because he was calm and collected unlike Sanemi who had a tendency to fly off the handle at the smallest things? Doubts flooded his mind as Giyuu’s hands gently squeezed your own in reassurance. His heart ached hearing you beg him to stay. The Water Pillar was the most composed out of the three of you, insisting that whatever conversation you and Sanemi needed to have would only be made worse with his presence.

With that he took his leave, giving the two of you space to talk. Neither of you said anything at first, the only sounds that could be heard were your sniffing and the chirping of birds. The tension in the air was thick, the sun beaming down on you while leaves fluttered down to the ground. Ironically, it was an awfully nice day for such a sad scene. Sanemi was the first to break the silence, “Do you love him?”

“What?” You asked in disbelief, your bloodshot eyes widening as you stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was serious or if this was just some sick joke. “It’s not like that with him.” While he stayed silent, you went over everything in your mind. You thought about the animosity Sanemi had always held for the other man, to the point where Sanemi’s mind had conjured up a one sided rivalry between the two, which had only worsened with the growth of your friendship with him. For the first time since you’d asked Giyuu to train with you, you realized that he was jealous. You couldn’t understand why though, he never minded your friendships with the other Pillars. Nonetheless, you tried to quell his insecurities by adding, “We’ve never done anything together, if that’s what you're worried about.”

“That's not what I asked.” He let out an exasperated sigh and clenched his jaw, trying to prepare himself for whatever your answer would be. He held your face in his hands as he asked in a calm, gentle, tone that contradicted the whirlwind of emotions inside him, “Do you have feelings for him, even if it’s just a little?”

Your lips parted, there was so much you wanted to say but the words just wouldn’t leave your throat. You couldn’t blame him for being skeptical, looking at it from his perspective, your friendship with Giyuu kinda came out of the blue and grew rapidly. You wanted to give him the context behind it all, that the two of you bonded over him. You wanted to tell him about the letters you two exchanged which consisted of you giving Giyuu advice on what kinds of things Sanemi liked and his retelling of every attempt he made to connect with the other man ending in failure and a fuming Sanemi Shinazugawa. The truth was that the Water Pillar simply wanted to be his friend but wasn’t sure how to engage with him. Explaining all of this might’ve eased your lover’s mind and may have even embarrassed him a tiny bit. But what had stunned you into silence was the last part of his sentence, even if it’s just a little.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the contents of your letters shifted from the subject of Sanemi to yourselves. You both shared what you liked and disliked, your favorite foods, your hobbies, your dreams and fears. The two of you got to know the ins and outs of each other and blossomed a deep respect and admiration for one another. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t giddy each time you received a letter from him. Maybe Sanemi’s fears were correct, maybe you did harbor some feelings for the other man.

At your lack of a response, he ripped himself away as if you had burned him. He brought his hands to his face, his fingers harshly rubbing his eyelids and pinching the bridge of his nose as he processed that his worst nightmare was coming to life. All he could think was, why? Why was this happening? Why did you have to catch feelings for that stupid Water Hashira? Was there anything he could’ve done to prevent it? The tips of his fingers pulled at his skin as he slowly slid his hands down his face, he felt like he was losing his mind. He tried to contain his anger, he didn’t want to yell at you and potentially drive you further into that bastard's arms but he could help the aggression that seeped into his voice as he asked, “More than me?”

“No,” you denied immediately, whatever you may have felt for Giyuu paled in comparison to your love for Sanemi, “Of course not.”

“I-,” He didn’t even know what to say to that. He thought he’d be relieved that your feelings were stronger for him than they ever would be for that parasite but knowing that he shared your heart with another, even if it was only 0.01%, filled him with rage and jealousy. As his calm facade began to crack, he determined that it would be best to end the conversation now. He needed to clear his head. “I’m gonna go.”

“Sanemi-,” you took a step toward him but froze when he held up a hand, urging you to stay back.

“I need to think,” he was already walking away from you as he added, “We’ll talk later.”

You watched him disappear from your sight before you made your way down the path, headed for your own estate. It was for the best, you convinced yourself, you needed time to think things over as well. Of course if given the choice between the two men, you’d choose Sanemi without a doubt. And you were sure Giyuu felt similarly, he wouldn’t want to give the Wind Pillar another reason to hate him. If your friendship truly had to be severed for the sake of your relationship with Sanemi then so be it.

But you didn’t want it to come to that if there was another way to fix this mess. Giyuu had become one of your closest confidants, someone who you could rely on, someone who understood and didn’t judge you. Cutting ties with him would be your last resort if all else failed. You wondered how you could close the rift between them, if you could at all.

A week later, your crow was sent to the Wind Estate requesting for Sanemi’s presence. He contemplated ignoring it but he knew he couldn’t run away from his problems forever. Your words played over and over again in his head like a broken record. He’d talked himself into thinking that in your mind he came before the Water Hashira, that you’d choose him over that loser any day. But now as he made his way to your estate, he wasn’t so sure of himself. He worried that this meeting would end the same way the last confrontation did, with you confirming his biggest fears.

As he walked through the entrance gate, he saw you standing in the doorway of your manor waiting for him. His shoes dragged along the gravel trail as he slowly made his way toward you, clearly stalling. When he finally stopped in front of you, you politely greeted him. He just stood there for a moment, taking in your appearance. Your hair was pulled back, showing off your flushed face, the sunset casted a pink glow over you and enhanced your blush as you stared up at him with those stupid lovesick eyes that always made him weak in the knees.

Fuck it. His rough hands slid under your shirt, grabbing the soft skin along your waist and pulled you into him. Before either of you knew it, his lips were on yours in a heated kiss. He’d folded instantly, he knew he shouldn't have but it felt as if he was having withdrawals. You two had spent far longer than just a week apart when you were both sent on missions. But all of the anxiety he had over losing you made the week feel like a year with each hour passing by painfully slow. If his resolve wasn’t already snapped in half, it was absolutely destroyed when your sweet voice spoke four words, “Come to the bedroom.”

As you led him to your room, the two of you had passed by multiple servants and trainees. None of them so much as batted an eye at the Wind Pillar as they were all accustomed to his nightly visits. This gave him a feeling of superiority, knowing that he was such a familiar presence in your life that others were used to seeing you two together. Had Giyuu been the one you were taking to bed instead of him, he was sure they’d all look at you like you had two heads. Tonight he’d worship you, prove to you that he was the better man and he’d make sure that you screamed his name loud enough so that everyone else would know that you belonged to him.

You stopped outside of your bedroom door, turning your head to look down each end of the hall to make sure no one was coming and grabbed Sanemi by his collar, pulling him down to meet your lips once again. Without breaking the kiss, you slid the door open and backed into the room, dragging your lover with you as he shut the door behind him. His hands roamed up and down your body, groping you in all your soft spots as his mouth devoured your own.

Something's off, his conscious whispered. He tried to ignore it and focus on you, thinking about what he was going to do to give you the best night of your life. But his thoughts kept getting derailed as he became increasingly more aware of his surroundings. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, it almost felt as if there was another presence in the room. Although he knew that he was probably being paranoid, his eyes fluttered open. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure behind you.

His back hit the door as he ripped himself from your grasp. His momentary fear was replaced by anger as he saw the source of his misery sitting quietly at the end of your bed. Sanemi’s eye twitched, that freak had just sat there and watched you two touch each other like a pervert.

Just as he was about to tell that damn Water Pillar off, you took his face between your hands and directed his attention back to you. “Just hear me out, okay?”

Realizing that you’d orchestrated, whatever the hell this was, brought back that sinking feeling in his stomach, like you were slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Through gritted teeth he asked, “What the hell is he doing here?”

You took a deep breath, you anticipated this kind of reaction but it didn’t make you feel any less nervous. “Here's the deal,” you began, “If you want him to leave then he’ll go. And I’ll stay away from him if that’s what you want.” You paused, not sure how he’d take what you were about to say next. “But I wanna try to fix this if I can. I care a lot about both of you.”

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hadn’t changed and he didn’t say anything. You rested your head on his chest, your hands trailed down his arm to hold his hand. “It’s up to you though. Our relationship is my first priority so we won't do anything you're uncomfortable with.”

His breath hitched at your next words, “I love you.”

The tips of his ears heated up and his heart thumped rapidly, it was the first time you’d ever said that to him. He looked at Giyuu, his idiotic face held no emotion as always. Regardless he found himself wishing that the other man was dying on the inside knowing that your declaration of love wasn’t directed at him.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

All three of you knew what he was doing, trying to rub salt into the wound. It was cruel but you were determined to show him that he was the one you cared most about. You’d give up just about anything if it meant you got to keep him. So you repeated it once more, “I love you, Sanemi.”

He held eye contact with Giyuu as you spoke. If what you said had upset the Water Pillar, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Resentment flared inside Sanemi at his lack of a reaction, was this all a joke to him? His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He’d show that bastard, he thought, he’d show him who you cried out for, who you craved, who you loved.

He looked back to you, giving your ass a rough squeeze as he ordered, “Get your clothes off and get on the bed.”

You eagerly followed his command with excitement rushing through your veins as Sanemi shrugged off his own clothes before he noticed Giyuu still sitting on the bed watching you two underess. “That means you too, idiot!”

You were sandwiched between the two boys as they kissed and sucked each side of your neck. Precum leaked through Giyuu’s boxers, his clothed cock rubbing against the curve of your ass. Meanwhile, Sanemi’s erection stood proudly between your stomachs, twitching at the friction your embrace provided.

The left side of your neck and collarbone were littered in an absurd amount of purple hickeys. The artist behind the work was none other than Sanemi himself who was determined to prove himself more worthy of your love than the leech behind you. Your right side had considerably less love bites and, in contrast to the intense mares on your left, they were a soft shade of red. You figured Giyuu might’ve been inexperienced by the way he tried to copy whatever Sanemi did, occasionally causing their hands to bump into each other to which Sanemi would slap the other man's hand away and continue to grasp your plush skin.

You gasped as your lover’s teeth dug into your shoulder, earning you a much gentler bite on your other shoulder. Your fingers gripped his jaw, carefully prying his mouth from your flesh. He was captivated by you, the blush adorning your face spread from ear to ear, your lips parted as you let out pleasured pants that caused your bare chest to heave. He was hypnotized by your lidded eyes, the trance you had him under only breaking when you tilted your head to the side. Over your shoulder he saw that you held Giyuu’s jaw in your other hand. With both of their faces in your grasp, you guided them toward each other.

Sanemi’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping your movement but not forcing you to let go entirely. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged, your voice a mix between sultry and breathy as you playfully teased, “I just thought you guys should kiss and makeup.”

You felt his grip on your arm tighten as he processed your joke. Just as you were about to assure him that he didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to, Giyuu’s voice cut you off, “It’s just one kiss, for her.” That was the first thing since Sanemi had arrived. His eyes, an endless sea of blue, stared into his comrade’s as he tried to provoke him. “That should be simple enough for you. It’s child’s play.”

A vein popped in Sanemi’s forehead, that dumbass was trying to get back at him for flaunting your love in his face. Sanemi was partially satisfied that he had managed to bruise the other man’s ego but he didn’t appreciate the push back. “Fuck it.” Not willing to back down from Giyuu’s challenge, Sanemi grabbed the back of his neck so hard that it was sure to leave bruises and yanked him into a rough kiss.

As you slid out from between them to get a better view of the harsh display, your lover slapped a hand on Giyuu’s shoulder to make sure that he didn’t try to close the distance that separated their bodies. Your pussy pulsed and clenched around nothing as you watched the two most attractive men you knew come together, even if it was in such a mean spirited way, with clashing teeth and aggressive growls.

You ran your hands up and down your body, thoroughly enjoying the show. Honestly, Sanemi had held the kiss longer than you though he would. You wondered if he had surprised himself with how long he’d allowed this to go on. Your cunt throbbed, a fire building in the pit of your stomach at the idea that maybe he secretly liked it. Of course, even if he did, he’d probably never admit it. Your eyes traveled down his body, his cock was still painfully hard. Although the chances were slim, you wondered if you could ever convince Sanemi to let Giyuu help you pleasure him with your mouths.

As you reached out to grasp his cock, he shoved Giyuu away. His voice was laced with disdain as he insulted, “That was disgusting.” He was tempted to spit to prove his point but decided against it since you would probably tear him a new one if he went spitting on your bedroom floor.

Giyuu’s eyes shifted down to his scars, biting back, “I’m sure you’ve been through worse.”

Before Sanemi could shoot back a nasty comment, you stroked his cock to distract him while you pleaded, “Don’t fight you two.” You pressed a sweet kiss to your lover’s lips, capturing his full attention. “Thank you for doing that. It was very sweet.”

His face heated up at your praise, he tried to downplay it by saying, “Whatever, as long as you enjoyed it.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest. “I did.”

Embarrassed by the mushy feelings you were giving him, all while your hand was still slowly moving up and down his cock, he changed the subject, “How are we doing this.”

“However you feel comfortable doing it,” you answered.

He pondered it for a moment, the whole reason he’d agreed to this in the first place was because he wanted to show off how well he knew your body. To prove that he was the better man, that he was the only man who could fill your every desire, that you were made for him and him alone. Regardless of all that, he wasn’t really comfortable with the idea of Giyuu fucking you. His gaze alternated between the two of you before he decided, “He can have your mouth, I want your pussy.”

“Okay.” You sent him a soft smile in encouragement before turning your attention to Giyuu. “Why don’t you lay down.” He did as you told him to, spreading his legs to make room for you. You crawled in between his legs, propping yourself up on your forearms and sticking your ass in the air. You glanced behind you at Sanemi who was getting comfortable behind you. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” After getting the confirmation from Sanemi, you looked back to Giyuu who nodded to let you know that he was ready. Sanemi ran a finger between your folds, shocked to see how wet you’d gotten from his little ‘performance’, you barely needed any prep. He was slightly annoyed that seeing him kiss that idiot was what got you so soaked. “Tch.”

You leaned forward, grasping the band of Giyuu’s boxers between your teeth and slowly tugging them down until his cock sprang free, nearly hitting you in the face as it slapped against his stomach. You flinched, letting out a yelp when all of a sudden Sanemi’s hand came down on your ass. “Why don’t you ever do that for me?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the question. Probably because you’re always in such a rush to fuck me that you rip off our clothes before I have the chance. You decided against answering him for the sake of keeping the peace. With your ass still stinging from Sanemi’s harsh slap, you wrapped a hand around Giyuu’s cock, bringing it to meet your mouth. Just as your lips brushed against the tip, you were yanked back by two large hands on your waist. Sanemi lined his cock up to your entrance, pretending like he hadn't done anything. You knew that he was fully aware of what he just did but if you brought it up he’d probably just deny it. With Giyuu now out of your reach, thanks to Sanemi, you suggested, “How about you fuck my face instead, Giyuu.”

Giyuu pulled his boxers off and got on his knees in front of you. This time he was the one directing his cock toward your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the tip, trying to tease him a little before taking the whole thing. Of course, it didn’t work out that way, yet again thanks to Sanemi who’d shoved his whole girth into you without warning, forcing your face further down Giyuu’s cock.

A thumb softly stroked your jaw causing you to look up at the man above you with your face still stuffed full of his cock. It was unusual to see him with such a caring expression since he was always so emotionless. “Are you okay?”

“Shut the hell up,” Sanemi groaned, the intimate tone Giyuu had used toward you was getting on his last nerve, “You're gonna make me go soft.”

Sanemi’s hips vigorously slapped against your ass, his fat cock stroking your insides at a harsh, rapid, pace. You tried to be gentle with Giyuu but the momentum of your body made you pleasure him the same way Sanemi was pleasuring you, rough and sloppy. Each snap of his hips pushed your face along Giyuu’s cock, making you fit even more in your mouth than you already were. You moaned around his cock each time Sanemi’s balls hit your clit, giving you short bursts of electric pleasure.

Sanemi ignored Giyuu’s grunts of pleasure and focused on the noises you were making. The cock in your mouth and the sound of you gagging made whatever you were saying unintelligible but he could tell that it was three syllables long. He let out a laugh. “That’s right. Sa-ne-mi.” Each syllable was followed by a harsh thrust. Even when you were face first into another man's dick you were still moaning his name.

Giyuu’s torso tensed, trying to hold in a moan as your sounds sent vibrations through his cock. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair as he buried himself to the hilt, which proved to be slightly difficult with Sanemi’s swift movement. You almost choked as he spilt his seed down your throat. You swallowed his salty cum and pulled off his softening cock with a wet ‘pop’.

Sanemi took the opportunity to steal you away from Giyuu. He pulled you to the other side of the bed and threw you on your back, wasting no time climbing on top of you and easing his cock back into your tight cunt. Now that your mouth wasn’t occupied, both of the boys could hear you loud and clear as your moans of Sanemi’s name bounced off the walls.

This is what he’d wanted all along. He wanted Giyuu to see the passion and love you two held for each other. You stared into each others eyes as he fucked into you, your souls colliding. You held him close, calling out for him and only him. He wanted Giyuu to know that he wasn’t stealing his place in your heart. No way in hell. You were his until the end of time.

“Sanemi!” Even as your eyes clouded over from the overwhelming sense of pleasure that only he could give you, you didn’t break eye contact, keeping the doorway between your souls open until Sanemi would reach his own Nirvana. Even as your body was shaking from the overstimulation, tears brimming in your eyes, you still held him close. You were soulmates and Giyuu would never replace him.

You were His.

His.

His.

His.

“Mine,” he moaned as he reached his peak, releasing inside you and staking his claim. He brushed a few stray hairs from your face, his knuckles affectionately grazing your cheekbone. “Did I make you feel good?”

“It was amazing,” you assured him, combing your fingers through his hair. He stayed on top for you for a moment, drinking in your appearance. Despite all the teasing he put you through, he truly did love you more than anything. “You are so beautiful.”

You smiled up at him, relishing in his affection. Unfortunately, your lover's embrace didn’t last long. Sanemi tensed when he felt warm liquid ropes hit his back. He slowly turned his head to look at the man responsible. His soft features morphing into his usual terrifying expression of anger.

“Sanemi-,” you tried to stop him but it was too late, he tackled the Water Hashira off the bed and was now trying to rip his head off. Too tired to break them up, you pulled the covers over your body, falling asleep to the sound of your lover and best friend trying to kill each other.

[ravenromanova]

Sweet boy

Pairings: Assistant Bucky x Female ceo reader

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SUBBY BUCKY! (he’s just so pure and needy) but also a bit of dom bucky. Mommy kink, Nipple play, Oral m and f, unprotected sex, breeding kink (sorry not sorry) Riding, size kink, just really subby and needy bucky. MINORS DNI!!!!

Summary: You’ve taken quite a liking to your darling assistant.

Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~

You were the new CEO of Stark industries (it got passed down to you after your father stepped down) So being that you were the CEO you were incredibly busy. And you being busy 24/7 you decided to needed an assistant to help spilt the load. You had asked your secretary to put out an application and make a list of the best applicants, and that’s what she did as she was happy you were finally delegating.

So after countless interviews and countless people just wanting to get to you so they could get to your father, you finally found Bucky or James as you called him. He was the sweetest man you’ve ever met. When he walked into your office for the interview you were in awe of him, His long dark brown hair, Ocean blue eyes, Tall muscular figure. You almost died on the spot. And upon further inspection you found out just how smart he was. He went to yale and got a degree in engineering and wanted to get his foot in the door and the best technology company. You were quick to hire him after you finished the interview relieved that you found a good assistant along with some new eye candy.

That was about two months ago and in those two months you’ve grown extremely found of James as he did you. He was a very sweet and attentive man, always bringing you coffee and a bagel in the morning, forwards himself your emails if you’re swamped etc. You hate to admit it but you fell hard as fuck for him even though you shouldn’t. But in reality you didn’t care and neither did he.

Today was no different in the little routine youve both fell into. You had walked into your office after you greeted your staff, and settled into your office to do some paperwork. You had been in your office for all of fifteen minutes when you heard the very familiar knock on your door.

“Come in darling” You beckoned and as the door opened it revealed a very handsome Bucky walking in. He smiled as he walked in, shut the door and handed you your coffee and bagel.

“Thank you James” The words were sweet as they passed your lips causing a blush to appear on his cheeks. That was something that happened often, anytime you called him an endearing nickname or complimented him he would flush. Honestly it was the cutest thing youve seen and you couldn’t get enough.

“You’re welcome ma’am” He replied with that charming smile of his. He then took a second to look at you, your hair that was curled to perfection, the black dress that clinged to your supple body, the way your eyes glistened in the sun gods he was obsessed with you.

He shook is not so work friendly thoughts away when your voice broke the silence.

“i- uh i’m sorry ma’am what was your question” Bucky chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You laughed at him a little before stopping to catch some air. “You’re adorable James” You chuckle out. “I asked if you would want to have lunch with me today.” Bucky’s eyes widen a little at your words and he chokes on air and starts coughing.

“I mean you could’ve just said no” You tease with a smirk. Bucky clears his throat again and walks closer to your desk.

“id love to ma’am” He said as he smiled before taking some papers off your desk and exiting the room with a smile on his face.

An hour passes by and you finally finish replying to your emails with a frustrated groan. You take your hair down and throw off your glasses before letting your head fall in your hands. You love your job you really do but you cant stand all the stress that it comes with. A knock on the door brought you back into reality.

You mumble a ‘come in’ before resting your forehead on your arms. The door opens and Bucky walks in with (your favorite meal) and a smile in his face but then it quickly fades. He notices how you dont even look up at him or say anything, he also notices your demeanor.

“Ma’am?” His voice is soft as he speaks and walks over to your desk.

You prop your head up on your elbows to look at him and give him a half smile. “Sorry James i’m just a little out of it today” Your voice is rough as the words pass your lips.

“Let me take care of your emails for the rest of the day ma’am” Bucky says as he comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders.

You dont know what comes over you, maybe its his breath on your neck, his hands on your exposed skin but whatever it is makes you feral. Before your mind knows what your body’s doing you stand up, grab his face, and smack your lips into his. It takes Bucky a second before he kisses you back as he pushes you against your desk. You let out a slight moan as your back hits the edge of your wooden.

“I want you” You whisper against his lips after you break the kiss to come up for air. He looks at you with blown pupils as you speak not knowing what to do.

“A-Are you sure?” Bucky asks hesitantly then his eyes got wider as you removed your shirt. He nods his head once he got the hint and removed your bra before taking a nipple in his mouth. Your head falls back as you moan at the contact of his warm mouth against you. Quickly you put your hands in his hair and tug on it earning a delicious groan from him.

Bucky takes one of his tattooed hands and uses it to push your skirt up against your hips. He then finds his way to your clothed pussy and starts rubbing your clit.

“Oh fuck baby-yea just like that right there” Bucky damn near loses his mind as the words leave your mouth unlocking something in him. He releases your nipple with a wet pop before he then slides your panties and skirt off leaving you fully exposed. Bucky grips your hips and places you on top of your desk.

He wastes no time in getting on his knees and taking your clit into his mouth.

“OH FUCK!” You shriek from how good his mouth feels on you. You lay back on the desk and make your way to his hair as you grind yourself on his face. Bucky moans as he tastes you and eats you like a man starved. He takes his time as he licks and sucks on your clit since at the moment all he cares about is pleasing you.

“Fuck baby-i-im gonna cum” And just like that your orgasm rips through you just from him eating you out. He moans as he tatses your juices on his tongue,

“You taste so good mommy” He utters out not even realizing what he called you or how it set a fire within you. You bring his face back up and then bring him in for a passionate and sloppy kiss. The moan you let out when you taste yourself on his lips is sinful. You move your hands to his shirt and waste no time in taking it off. Once Bucky’s shirt is off you take a second to admire the black ink that goes from his arms to chest. You trace your fingers over the delicate patterns earning a shiver from him, the softness of your fingers on his skin set him off even more. He then grabs you and kisses you with more passion than before. Instinctively you move your hand down his chest to his bulging cock begging to be set free.

“Please mommy” He whines as you start to palm him through his pants. You’re quick to undo his belt and then slide is pants off along with his boxers. You then marvel at his red stricken cock that’s begging to be touched, never in a million years did you think you find a mans genitalia attractive but fuck his is.

You take his cock and rub it along with the precum that came with it all over your waiting hole. Bucky throws his head back once you finally put his cock in your warm pussy. He thrusts into you softly as to not hurt you but finds it hard to control himself.

“Oh fuck baby you’re so big-filling mommy up soo good” You praise him when he bottoms out. He moans as he starts picking up the pace making you mewl in pleasure. Bucky places him hands on your shoulders to get better leverage and hits all the right spots.

“F-Fuc-k mommy -i-im not gonna last long” He whimpers against your lips needing to touch you even more. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he starts to pound into you.

“y-yes baby right there fuck- god i wanna have your fucking kids” You beg and then his pace starts to stutter as you’re both reaching your high.

“Gonna fill you up mommy i promise” He groans as he starts at the place where your bodies are intertwining. Your office is filled with salacious sounds as he fucks into you at a relentless pace.

It doesn’t take long before your orgasm builds up again and you’re grinding your hips against his cock. Bucky moves his hands to your hips as his thrusts falter and his grunts grow louder.

“F-Fuck i-im-“ His words are cut off as his orgasm rips through him and he spills his cum into you.

“Good boy baby” You praise as he continues to fuck his cum into you since he’s holding you to the whole kids thing. After a few more thrusts he’s satisfied that he wont drip out of you he pulls out. You moan a little at the loss of him in you but he’s quick to make you forget as he kisses you again making your brain go fuzzy.

“We should do that more often” He says smiling after he breaks the kiss.

“Y-Yea we should” You admit with a nod and attempt to find your clothes. Once the moment is over the reality of what you just did seeps in.

“oh fuck” The words are barely above a whisper as they leave your mouth. He notices how your demeanor went from happy to frantic in a matter of seconds.

“Hey Hey Hey what’s wrong” He asks concerned as he walks back over to you putting on his shirt.

“I-I just had sex with my assistant” You mumble as you run your hand over your face in utter disbelief.

“And it was amazing” Bucky said with a chuckle and lifted your chin to look at him.

“But it shouldn’t have happened” His happy demeanor soon faltered as the words left your mouth. He thought that he had finally had a chance with you. Truthfully he’s been wanting to do this for a while since he’s been madly in love with you since you hired him.

“Well we both wanted it to happen so i dont see the big deal” He say with a shrug not understanding the position you both were now in.

“Bucky you’re my assistant- im your boss this is completely unethical” You scoffed at yourself.

“Well what if i wasnt?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh? You’re gonna quit?” You asked offended that he was just thinking about leaving you and the company.

“Well yes but not because of this- i got an offer with Maximoff inc last month but i turned it down because i couldn’t stand being away from you. But if me staying is going to stop us from happening then ill take the position if it means i get to have you all the time” He confessed as he took his free hand and grabbed yours to put it on his chest.

“It’s kinda hard to say no when you look at me like that” You said with a fake pout as you stared into his adoring blue eyes.

“Then dont say no” He said leaning in for another kiss that was filled with love and passion. In that moment you two became more than just boss and employee. You two melted into one another and melded into one another’s soul.

Who knew your sweet assistant would be the man you’d fall for? Funny how fate works.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

[azrielsdove]

Hi!! I was hoping I could request something for Azriel or Cassian. I saw this post somewhere about someone being super calm and content in prison, maybe she was taken along with the home carver because of her powers. I’m thinking she is kinda like an old god but instead her powers feed off sacrifice and while she doesn’t want that life, she’s too powerful to be free until Feyre/Rhys lets her out because Feyre thinks she won’t hurt anyone. Then she can find her mate with Az or Cass?? And it’s revealed that she hates her powers because the person has to matter to her for the sacrifice/power. and she could’ve been part of the war that Mor fought in and went kinda crazy after because she lost that person but is fine now that it’s been so long.

You can change whatever if you end up doing it, I just thought it was a cool concept. It also does not have to be that detailed lol but thank you if you do it!!

Old God: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Some Alcohol

***

“No, Feyre. It’s too dangerous.” Rhys didn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk while he spoke.

“Have you gone down there recently? She is kind, Rhys. You said to not trust the Bone Carver as well, and look how beneficial he was to us!” Feyre was pacing angrily around the room, having formed an attachment to the Death Wielder.

“We were in war, that was a dire situation. You want to release her for no other reason than you think she won’t harm anyone.” Rhys ran a hand over his face, looking up to his mate. “The beings in the Prison are there for a reason, Feyre. We can not go around releasing whoever we please without justification.”

Feyre huffed, crossing her arms and facing her husband. “You should go speak to her, Rhys. Understand what I mean. Amren came from the Prison, did she not?”

“Amren is different.”

“How?!” Feyre did not like arguing with her mate, but something was telling her it was wrong to keep the so-called old god down there. Especially after the war, after the Bone Carver sacrificed himself to fight for them. She knew the Prison held some of the nastiest beings Prythian had to offer, and that trusting any of them was a risk. Yet something was different about this one, she just knew it.

“Amren got herself out of the Prison. You have no idea how powerful the Death Wielder is. She is unlike anything you have ever seen.” Rhys stood from his desk, crossing the room to hold Feyre’s hands in his own. “It is too risky.”

“So if the Death Wielder got herself out, that would be fine?” Feyre shot at him, upset that he wasn’t agreeing with her.

“That’s not what i’m saying.”

“That’s what you’re insinuating! She isn’t what you think. Please, Rhys, just go talk to her.” Feyre pleaded, holding tight onto his hands. He sighed, reaching up to brush a piece of her hair back.

“Alright. I will go tomorrow evening, and if what you say proves true we can further discuss a release.”

***

Rhys did not enjoy coming to the Prison. He especially did not enjoy coming here to meet with you.

Unfortunately, he would do anything to make his mate happy.

He reached the door to your cell, placing his hand on the heavy stone. He breathed in deeply as he stepped forward, walking through the door like it didn’t exist. He looked around the room, shocked at how bright it was.

“High Lord,” you spoke, standing to greet him. “What brings you down?”

Rhys carefully looked at you, watching for any signs of a trick. “The High Lady requests to have you released. Do you know why she would ask such a thing?”

You gave a small smile, having grown quite fond of Feyre. “She visits me rather often, your mate. Brings me things,” you gestured to the faelights above you, the warm pillows and blankets on the floor. “She is different than any other. Full of hurt, yes, but an undying hope runs through her veins.”

“Are you coming to care for her?” The question was an accusation, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

“If you are asking if I plan to sacrifice her to escape, High Lord, then you would be mistaken. You should know better than anyone that I do not revel in my power.” There was an infinite sadness in your voice, an age-old pain.

“How am I to trust you?”

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to. We saw what happened with the war 500 years ago, what I had to do to save so many. Those kind of choices do not come without consequences, High Lord.”

Rhysand pondered over your words, violet eyes reading every movement you made. “You sacrificed the love of your life to save everyone. That is not something to be frowned upon.”

You gave a sad smile. “Yet here I am, locked in this pit of despair with the worst Prythian has to offer. Do not credit me, High Lord. I was willing to let the world suffer. He convinced me to do it, to use him to activate my power. I did not wish to do so.”

Rhys hummed, seeming to understand the level of devotion you held for your old lover. “I could understand. I would do anything to protect Feyre. Do you understand what I mean?”

You did. He would not allow your release from this prison, not even if you may be a harmless being these days. He would rather you suffer needlessly down here for millennia than risk anything harming his mate.

***

Feyre was angry. No, she was furious. Rhys had informed her that he would not be releasing the Death Wielder, even if he had picked up nothing bad in their meeting. She left his office without speaking, upset that he was being so difficult.

However, Feyre was not so naive as to not think her husband would try to stop her. She had planned for this. After all, he had made her High Lady, his equal. She had every right to make the call herself.

She found Cassian easily, purchasing donuts at one of the bakeries in Velaris. “I need your help.” Feyre was straight to the point, eyeing her friend as he stopped mid-bite.

“Uh, okay?” He said, placing his donuts back into their bag. “With what?”

“I need you to take me to the Prison.”

He laughed.

Feyre scowled, glaring at the General. “I’m being serious, Cassian.” She stood tall, letting power radiate from her. “As your High Lady, I command it.”

His laughter ceased, face growing serious. “As you wish, then.” Cassian knew better than to question her any further.

***

The pair stood outside the gates of the Prison, the ominous darkness beckoning them in. “May I ask who we are here to see?” Cassian pried, wanting to be prepared for what they would encounter.

“The Death Wielder.” Feyre didn’t give him a chance to protest, marching down into the endless dark. Cassian followed dutifully, wondering why his High Lady was so determined to meet with her. Feyre pushed in without hesitation when they reached the door to her cell. Cassian went after, growing more curious by the second.

“High Lady,” you greeted, welcoming the female you almost considered a friend. Not that many had ever gotten close enough to you for such a title. Feyre greeted you by your name, something very few had ever called you. “The High Lord was here as well, i’m sure you know.”

You could feel the simmer of displeasure come from the High Lady. “Yes. I’ve chosen to disregard his opinion on this matter. I do not think it is right to keep you down here.”

You gave a soft smile, lightly surveying the room that had caged you for so long. “Ah, but this is my home now, isn’t it? Where I came from has long been gone, anyone I ever knew with it. What else is there for me? It is no harm to keep me here, truly.”

Feyre huffed, seemingly having an argument in her head. “I will never force you to leave, you know that. I simply believe there is more for you out there, out in my home.”

You moved closer to the young female, inspired by her endless hope for all that is good. “Who is to say your people would allow me to walk among them? The old gods are not favored in your time, especially not one who’s known for Death.” It was then that you noticed her companion, the long haired male standing in the shadows. You cocked your head, surveying him curiously. Something about him was…different than any others you had met.

“This is Cassian,” Feyre introduced, waving him forward. He came into the light, nodding his head to you.

“Cassian,” you mused, tasting the name on your tongue. You observed his armor, his wings, the strong power radiating from him. “The General. How do you feel about your High Lady’s idea?”

He seemed shocked that you would ask for his opinion, looking carefully between you and Feyre. “I trust what my High Lady thinks best.”

“The diplomatic answer,” you hummed, moving to look at him closer. “That is not what I asked. What would you, as an innocent in this world, think of someone like me wandering through your city?”

He blinked at you before clearing his throat. “I would not consider myself an innocent. If the High Lady deemed you safe, I would trust her. As would many in this court.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “You are all innocents to me.” You turned back to Feyre, a smile ghosting your lips. “Very well, High Lady. If you deem it fit, I will accept the release you are granting me.”

***

You stood with the General on the outskirts of Velaris, feeling uncomfortable for the first time in a long time. You had grown content in the Prison, safe from your power. Your deadly, terrible power.

“What would you like to do?” He was watching you, hand on one of his many blades. You felt vulnerable by that action, a reminder that you will always be perceived as Death herself.

“I do not know.” Your voice was quiet, a weakness pulling through that you did not enjoy. You were easily the most powerful being here, there was no reason to feel so small. Cassian noticed the change in you, the contrast from the ancient confidence he encountered in the Prison.

“Hey,” he soothed, releasing the hold on his weapons, “no one has to know who you are.” You wanted to give him a thankful smile, but the darkness in your mind was clouding around you.

“No,” you whispered, “they’ll know. Perhaps this was a mistake.” You turned to face the mountains behind you, feeling the dirt beneath your feet. It had been so long since you had seen the outside, since the fresh air had touched your skin. You startled when you felt gentle fingers around your wrist, whipping your head around to meet the kind eyes of the General.

“Come with me. My own friend Amren is like you, and she lives here happily.” There was a calm in his voice that washed away any apprehension you felt, something about him making you feel like you could trust what he said. “Stay with me.”

Your heart ticked at his words as he pulled you down to the glittering city below.

***

You had spent a few weeks with Cassian, learning all Velaris had to offer. The High Lord had come to find the two of you early on, angry that you allowed his wife to set you free.

“She is the High Lady, her word is as equal as yours, is it not?” You had asked, pointing out his hypocrisy. He had grumbled at your words, but allowed you to continue on.

“As long as you are with Cassian, I will accept that you roam free. Do not make me regret this,” he had threatened, still not trusting you.

You couldn’t blame him.

You knew he had an underlying fear that you were growing too close to Feyre, that you may grow close to Cassian. You didn’t know how to explain that you would never use them to activate your power, that you would never allow anyone to become that special to you again.

Unfortunately, you were growing worried yourself. Cassian drew you into him, a simmering desire to learn everything there was to know about the male. His stories captivated you, his jokes made you laugh in ways you never had. He pulled out the true version of you, the being beneath the danger.

You needed to stop this.

Cassian had a little cabin on the edge of the city, a cozy place he had leant to you. He stayed with you most nights, sleeping on the couch while you took the bed. You knew it was due to his High Lord commanding it, but a part of you wished he was staying for you. That he enjoyed being around you as much as you did around him.

“We are going out tonight,” he informed you, tossing a dress onto the bed. You looked up at him in shock, unsure if he was joking or not. “It is time you let loose a little, enjoy yourself.” There was a teasing smile on his lips, a brightness in his eyes. You pulled the blood-red fabric to you, fingers trailing over the delicate fabric. You had never ‘gone out.’

“I don’t,” you started, looking up to him, “I’ve never, I, what if I embarrass you?” You tripped over your words, heat rising in your cheeks.

He gave a reassuring, slightly cocky smile. “You can’t be any worse than Az, trust me.”

***

You were nervous standing outside Rita’s, a cold intruder on a warm night. You hadn’t yet been around so many fae in such a tight setting, the worry that they would notice who you were drowning your mind. You tugged the bottom of your dress down a little, fidgeting with the hem. “Stop,” Cassian chided, grabbing your hand in his. “It’s going to be fine.”

He dragged you up the steps into the bustling bar, making his way through the crowd to a table in the back. His friends were all there, the High Lords stare cold as he noticed your hand in Cassian’s. You quickly pulled away from him, ignoring the look he sent you. He slid into the booth and you sat next to him, careful to keep your distance.

“Drinks?” The stunning blonde you immediately recognized asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

“She needs something strong, Mor.” Cassian answered for you, a laugh in his voice. You nodded in confirmation to the Morrigan, the sight of her bringing up memories of the war all those centuries ago. You were going to need several strong drinks.

“So, Death Wielder, how have you enjoyed your time in my court?” Rhysand asked, your title coming out like an insult.

“It is a very beautiful place, High Lord,” you answered honestly, having grown to quite enjoy the city.

“Hmm.” He leaned across the table, hands clasping in front of him. “And how have you been enjoying my brother?” You looked at him with wide eyes, taken aback by his accusation.

“That’s quite enough, Rhys. We are here to have a nice night, not interrogate our guests.” Feyre cut in, shooting you an apologetic look. Rhys mumbled something about not trusting you as he sat back in his seat.

Cassians hand found your knee, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, loud enough for High Lord to hear. “He doesn’t think I can handle myself around you.”

You flushed at his words, feelings running through you that you hadn’t felt in centuries. You were thankful that Mor chose that moment to return, gladly taking your drink from her. You busied yourself with it, allowing normal conversation to resume around the table.

Cassian did not move his hand.

You were feeling a pleasant buzz from the drink, a state of relaxation coming over you. You found yourself giggling at something Cassian said, leaning further into him. He smiled back at you, his hand sliding a little higher as your dress began to ride up. For the first time in 500 years, you were able to feel a sense of happiness.

“Better be careful, General,” came a slurring voice, all eyes turning to the fae that had approached the table. “Death here will be quick to sacrifice you next. You should know better than anyone that she lures her lovers into traps, killing them to make her power stronger.” You froze in place, terror spreading through your body.

Cassian moved the hand from your knee, a split-second heartbreak occurring inside you before you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders. “Maybe you shouldn’t speak on what you don’t know.” His voice was hard, causing the other male to take a step back. “Do you wish to continue telling me about things that you think I, General of the Night Court Armies, do not already know? Do you truly believe you know more than me?” The male slunk back, angry and embarrassed.

“Don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” He shot out before disappearing into the crowd, leaving a thick silence over the group. You took the opportunity to slide out of the booth, taking off for the door. You heard a faint call of your name, along with Rhysand calling his brother back to the table. You pushed out of the building, sucking in deep mouthfuls of air. A horrible choking sensation was taking over your throat and lungs, a full panic controlling your body. You stumbled down the street, blind to the concerned expressions of the passerby.

You needed to go. You couldn’t stay here any longer, you couldn’t risk Rhysand putting you back in the Prison now that you knew free life again. You ripped the heels off your feet, discarding them where they landed. You began running, bare feet slapping the pavement below. You felt the skin tear as you ran, too soft for the rough ground.

You didn’t care.

You ran all the way to the cabin, lungs burning. You grabbed your few meager possessions, mostly clothes Cassian had bought you. You stuffed them into a small bag, not noticing the tears running down your face until they splashed onto the fabric. When was the last time you cried?

Loud, shaking sobs overtook your body. You sunk to the ground by the bed, curling your arms around your knees and burying your head. How could you be so stupid? You knew better than to fall for him, for anyone. You cursed yourself, the crushing weight of despair becoming too much to handle. You felt tendrils of your power come out, wrapping themselves around your skin. It burned where they touched, an anguished scream tearing from you.

A voice was yelling your name, holding tight to your arms. You cried harder, certain that the burning of your power must be hurting them too. “Leave me!” You screamed, the pain of the last 500 years ripping from your body. The voice calling for you was growing hectic, desperate. You couldn’t focus on anything except the tendrils of power on you, certain they were melting the skin off your bones.

You felt arms cradle your body, lifting you off the ground. You knew you were suddenly outside, a sensation like flying taking over. The wind was harsh against you, a welcome cold to the burning power suffocating you. You felt a jolt as whoever was carrying you hit the ground, more voices joining in the chaos. You heard one stick out above the rest, and then an endless darkness took over your mind.

***

Your head was heavy, your body was sore, and your throat was terribly dry. You pried your eyes open, wincing at the daylight flooding the room. You blinked a few times, looking around at what you could see. You didn’t recognize anything about the bedroom, but you did know the large male passed out in the chair next to the bed.

Cassian.

He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You needed to get out, get away from him. You forced yourself up, crying out in pain as you did. He shot up out of the chair and was at your side in a second. “No, lay back down,” he commanded, pushing you down gently.

“I need to go,” you croaked out, voice hoarse.

“Why do you think that?” He asked, looking at you like he already knew the answer.

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “Never,” he whispered into your hair, “will you hurt me.”

You couldn’t help the tears spilling out as you clutched onto his arms, wanting to stay here forever. “I killed him,” you sobbed, holding tighter onto Cassian.

“You didn’t,” he argued, “he sacrificed himself. For you, for all of Prythian and beyond. If we had lost that war, none of us would be here. He knew you didn’t want to do it, that you wouldn’t do it. He made that choice, not you.” You cried, shaking in his arms at the memory of your past love. He had been your heart, your soul. You will never forget the pain and anguish that came from losing him, all so you could use your power to its full extent.

A curse, your power was. Only able to be used if someone you loved died. Died for the sake of the power. You despised it, you despised the title it had earned you. Death Wielder. You had never wanted to be that, to become a horror story. To be classified as an ‘old god’, a force to be reckoned with. You had been a gentle spirit before the discovery of your power, before you were told how to use it.

You shook your head. “I won’t risk it, Cass. What if war comes again?”

“If it does, you will be better trained. Rhys has been doing some research while you were out, talking to some of the other High Lords. They believe your power is misunderstood.” You stilled, pulling back to look at him.

“Misunderstood?”

He nodded. “He believes you can access it without a sacrifice. With the way it was acting when I found you that night, I think he may be right.”

You remembered the horrible pain of your power then, looking down at your arms. You were surprised to see they were bare, no damage from the force of whatever you released. “It hurt me,” you said slowly, eyes moving back up to Cassian’s.

“He believes with proper training it won’t hurt. All we can do is try.” He raised a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the remaining tears. “I don’t think I can live without you.” Your breath caught at the honesty in his words.

“I don’t think I can live without you either,” you said, voice barely a whisper. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, a heavy tension growing in the air.

“Please, may I kiss you?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded.

He leaned down, cupping your face as his lips touched yours. The kiss was slow, hesitant. You hadn’t kissed anyone in over five centuries, certain you would be abysmal. Cassian lead you perfectly, bringing your head up to create a better angle. You sighed softly, lips parting just enough for his tongue to delve in. He took his time learning every inch he could reach, kissing you breathless and then some.

You pulled apart, gasping for air. Your eyes caught his blow-out ones, and a string of gold erupted between the two of you. Mate, mate, mate, sang around your head, everything except Cassian disappearing. You could tell he felt it too, hands tightening on you. He came closer again, lightly kissing your lips.

“Mine, aren’t you?” He said. You smiled, a real, true smile. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his shirt, needing to touch him.

“Yours, always.”

***

I hope I was able to pull off what you wanted!! It took me a while to figure out how to write this. Please let me know what you think <3