#I really had to be ruthless with the ones that made this post
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into the fade 2: electric boogaloo
#I had too many good screenshots from this quest#I really had to be ruthless with the ones that made this post#left hawke in the fade originally but then cried so hard after that I reloaded the entire boss fight again#just so I wouldn’t have to see Varric be sad#oc: elowen lavellan#here lies the abyss#the fade#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#dragon age inquisition spoilers#da:i spoilers#also I don’t think I have trypophobia but that nightmare makes me feel VERY uncomfy
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~
#I know I love it a lot but I have to reiterate just how difficult it is to really connect with Vergil on any level ESPECIALLY romantic#There's a lot of unspoken beliefs and even with having made amends with the humanity within them.... there is still the fact that#This man has spent nearly 95% of their life ABHORRING any kind of human trait (emotion being the biggest one)#There's very few people that can get past that icy wall they've so carefully built up#And even he has a hard time breaking down that wall. This is a ruthless man who killed without discretion. There was no kindness or remorse#In anything they ever did in their persuit for power#He killed indiscriminately if you even got in his way and yes verge had their reasons their trauma etc etc#But this is also why it's not easy to build a relationship with them in any capacity#Literally going through a state of relearning how to be 'human' and even then he doesn't care to openly acknowledge that humanity#Post DMC5 at least he's a little easier to get along with but STILL.
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hope everyone who got a creator subscription notif from me today realizes something deeply unwell and bizarre happened to me in march
#rempe/bedard....just as we all suspected.....#figured out my sharks library au. mario has my old job. pickles has my colleagues job. tytoff is the hot new youth librarian that#mario falls in love with#mack and will are juvenile offenders doing community service#ekky is a library page who cares just enough to do his job but not enough to do it well#klim is a circulation guy who falls in love with everyone#tydel is the other circulation guy who everyone falls in love with#collin and jackt are also library pages but they dont do shit. luca is the college student intern who takes it way too seriously#shak is a volunteer that they mostly make model for all the social media posts due to him being beautiful#wenny is the head of circulation and he's TIRED of his circulation guys that are either in love or beloved#as befitting a real library it is a deeply lopsided branch that is somehow both over and understaffed#warso in the background being the worst manager on planet earth. but we dont talk about him#asky obviously the regular that klim falls in love with OBVIOUSLY#HUGE debate about the ethics of falling in love with a patron. concluding with a message i saw on ala think tank once where a#librarian was like yeah one of my storytime dads asked me to marry him and i said yes :) and the thread was like 95 replies deep#ala think tank....best/worst facebook group i've ever been. librarians will invent discourse no one on planet earth can conceive of#storytime underground was worse somehow but ala think tank was so broad in the amount of insane bullshit they covered on a daily#basis that i'm sure it contributed to my burnout#i remember this one really really annoying member made a post about how they were checking themselves into an inpatient program#and everyone was just like. congratulations. maybe this will make you less obnoxious#librarians can be very kind to be patrons and generally do try to be. but will be RUTHLESS with each other#and why is that? bc we are all mentally ill and our jobs are hell#and i MISS it#anyway pickles is my colleague who had dementia that management could not figure out how to force her to retire#but like less tragic ending than what happened to my colleague WHY DID THE TEMPERATURE JUST DROP LIKE 10 DEGREES IN THIS TRAIN#god i'm gonna get a soda. this is horrendous#anyway. don't work for libraries but also don't not work for libraries#fresno oilers.txt
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between the blades of grass

when sylus, the strongest warrior of the grasslands, chooses you as his mate, you're forced to consummate your union in front of the entire clan.
━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot, porn with feelings
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.4k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, public sex, voyeurism, outdoor sex, people watching you have sex, missionary, cumming inside, medieval bedding ceremony vibes, NOT continuation off grassland romance (though inspired by it), NOT based off any real world clan, completely made up clan & traditions, implied virgin mc, implied first time sex, use of y/n, dom!sylus, dirty talking sylus, talks of marriage, mating, and some political play.
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3 | twitter inspo 1 | twitter inspo 2
━ ✧.˖ A/N: hello! short fic since i was so heavily inspired by the new sylus memory. this is NOT a continuation of ‘grassland romance’ though it is heavily inspired by the overall theme of the memory. i began furiously writing this when they released the trailer oof i was so hooked. inspired by @/yuchanpaws_ quote tweet linked above!
please note that the clan and traditions mentioned in this fic are completely fictional. however the tradition is based loosely off of the “bedding ceremony” that medieval europe used to partake in!
i will NOT be writing fics for the new xavier or raf memories! i may write for zayne but that is up in the air. i only wrote for this one because i was super inspired by the memory and the fan discourse about it on twitter and tumblr <3
this was actually so fun to write. i might find myself writing more bite sized fics like this, that inspire me rather than feel like me forcing myself to finish them :’) unfortunately that probably means less xavier and raf from now on and only zayne & sylus…
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”
You can hardly hear Sylus through the deafening chants and cheers of the people around you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be caught in this situation. The Mating Rite.
Actually, it was customary for the most esteemed members of your clan to partake in the Mating Rite, those of the Elder Tribunal, the high ranking commanders of the various military societies, really any of the most respected members of the community had to participate in the Rite. To prove their bond with their chosen to the rest of the clan, committing themselves not only to each other, but to the clan.
But you didn’t fall into any of those criteria. While you were under the strict and often suffocating protection of the clan’s most skilled warriors, for reasons they’d refused to share with you, you weren’t someone of the necessary stature needed to be required to partake in the Rite.
But Sylus was.
The youngest warrior to be sworn into the clan’s most elite and ruthless military society. The youngest to be considered for a commanding position in the militia, a position he turned down many times. He was the most formidable and respected gladiator of your entire clan, and even that of the opposing clans of the Grasslands.
There wasn’t a soul in all the Grasslands that didn’t know his name. You either envied him, feared him, or wanted to share a bed with him. Maybe all of the above.
You knew the day would come when Sylus would have to choose a suitable partner, and the thought of it inexplicably sent painful pangs down your very soul. The fear of losing him, when you didn’t even have him, was so utterly heartbreaking, you didn’t know how you’d bear it when the time came.
And yet…Sylus wanted you. He chose you.
You’d never forget the way he sought you out after returning from a mission he told you little of, under the massive acacia you’d often lain under, with the silver haired man in question holding you dearly. How you’d flown into his arms upon seeing his distinct form approaching you, his strong hands gripping your waist as he spun you around, whispering into your ear about how he’d missed you in his time away.
Or when he threw you over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the underside of your rear, a clear mission in his mind as he traversed the Grasslands to the Elder Tribunal’s square.
“I need to show them I already have a lover.”
The Elder Tribunal had been pushing Sylus’s hand for years now, wanting to see their most esteemed warrior mated, securing his future progeny to that of the clan. He’d been able to hold them off for as long as possible, his responsibility as a warrior and as your key protector keeping him far too busy to find a suitable mate.
You weren’t exactly sure what changed, what exactly had caused Sylus’s hand to be forced. What had caused him to finally give in, choosing a partner to share the rest of his life with.
In any case, you found yourself under Sylus’s very naked body, his thick erection nestled firmly inside your quivering walls. He was naked from the waist down, but still wore the traditional garb of the warrior ensemble’s chest harness, the bone embellishments rattling against the coarse leather. There were countless eyes around you, watching the way Sylus slid in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.
Sylus did his best to use his much larger body to shield yours from the hungry stares surrounding you, wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of your obvious discomfort. You were entirely naked, as was required of women partaking in the Rite, bare and vulnerable before the many spectators. And while the thought of showing off your magnificent naked body off to others excited Sylus, as he knew that it was a sight others could behold but never have like he could, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible.
The warm air breezed against your naked body, only a canvas ceiling protecting you from the elements. It was a tent of sorts, without any walls, to give the crowd the best view of the Mating Rite. Of you and Sylus.
Even though the air is warm, the, almost muggy, Grassland breeze against your bare skin makes you shiver.
“I’m sorry,” he grits, his jaw slack as you sucked him in so tightly, trying to focus on comforting you and not the way you nearly choked the orgasm out of him, “I’m sorry. I never wanted our first time…to be like this.”
His words make your mind sober up, your eyes focusing on his and not those around you. He used his thick thumb to rub the tears out of the corner of your eyes.
“It’s’okay Sylus,” you gasp, the pain of his thick cock making it difficult to speak, “I-I’m’okay.”
Sylus grimaces, hearing the choke of discomfort in your soft voice. The way your cunt felt around him was so completely and wholly blissful, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel.
“Just focus on me, alright my dove?” he murmurs, his voice gruff with desire. As he continues to rock into you, unbearably gently and loving, he leans down until his lips are a mere inch from yours.
“Let me take the pain away, hm?”
He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your gasp as he kisses you for the first time. You’d daydreamed about the way his lips would feel on yours, when you watched him train with his fellow warriors, when you’d wash fresh fruit in the brook by the clearing, when he’d watch over you, protecting you from a danger that everyone refused to tell you the truth of.
But your silly little daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared you for how warm and commanding his lips would be when they took yours. How his tongue, gentle yet insistent as they traced the opening of your mouth, would slip into your mouth, exploring you like he owned you.
You never could have imagined the way he’d literally take your breath away, kissing you like he’d been waiting just as long to taste you, to have you.
It’s so wonderfully dizzying that you don’t even notice the pain of his member inside you ebbing into a burning pleasure. You don’t notice the way people holler when Sylus kisses you, the way they cheer at the scene unfolding before them.
You squeak, a mix of a moan and a squeal when Sylus pushes so deeply into you that you briefly see warm white stars clouding your vision. Sylus groans, ripping his lips from yours to breathe out a throaty moan of pained pleasure.
“Not so tight,” he all but seethes at you. You wince at his harsh tone, doing your best to relax your squirming muscles and obey his words. Sylus instantly softens at your reaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.
“You’re so tight down here, sweetheart,” he grits, fingers coming down to press on your bare tummy, “It’s making it difficult for me to…control myself.”
“I-Is that…” you whimper, confused by the way he’s making your body burn with an unfamiliar pleasure, “Ngh – bad?”
Sylus chuckles, despite the tortured plea that shines in his carmine eyes, “Bad? Far from it…You feel unbelievable.”
Your heart clenches at his praises, cheeks heating at the sounds his body makes against yours. Flushed at the way people are watching Sylus claim every inch of you, your virtue.
He continues, stroking your cheek gently, pleadingly, “But it would be embarrassing if you made me…end the Rite so quickly. In front of all these people.”
The implications of his words dawn on you and your eyes widen in a mix of surprise and disbelief. He doesn’t stop his movements even as he explains himself to you, your nails digging into his thick biceps that cage you, blocking your modesty from the spectators.
“I have an image to uphold, after all,” he smirks only half-joking, a well deserved arrogant confidence playing behind his beautiful features, “Only you would make it so difficult for me, little bird.”
“M’not trying to Sy –” you choke out, looking down and trying to focus on the way his impossible girth splits you open, and not the jeering of the crowd. You’re briefly hypnotized by the shiny ring of something filthy that encircles his base, the way his abdomen clenches with every movement he makes.
You’re snapped out of your trance at the distinct and familiar voices, some distance behind your head. You’re acutely reminded of just how exposed you are, your thighs trying to clench shut on instinct. But Sylus’s body holds them open, his fingers gripping your chin to bring your face back to his.
“Don’t worry about them.”
“I-I just –” you whine, not even knowing what you want to say, unable to stop your eyes from darting around. You squirm when you make eye contact with the hungry eyes around you, recoiling into yourself.
“I can tell you exactly what each and every one of them are thinking,” Sylus purrs into your ear as he leans down to press his weight deliciously onto you, which only earns more hooping and hollering from the crowd, “They’re thinking about what it would be like…to be in my place.”
Sylus smirks when you shiver at his lewd words, his filthy whisperings making you inexplicably and embarrassingly excited. His voice is impossibly heated, a dangerous ferality behind them, “Thinking about what it would be like to be the one inside of you right now.”
You whine at his words, hitting his shoulder weakly, “Sylus d-don’t say that. I only want to think about you.”
Sylus groans, a beautifully deep and erotic moan of satisfaction, “Damn right. You are mine.”
He continues on, so lost in the feeling of your tight wet walls that he begins to ramble uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry, my love. I will make it up to you.”
Before you can even ask for what, Sylus is driving right back into your deepest parts, making your toes curl as you squeal unabashedly, not even registering how people cheer at the way you he fucks you.
He whispers, not paying any mind to the way people applaud the way Sylus makes your body keen, encouraging him to take you harder, “After this, little bird, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel. Just you and me. I promise.”
As inexperienced as you were, you knew the way Sylus fucked you was otherwordly. His thrusts, both dominating and tender, his hands gentle as they squeeze your breasts, his lips as they caress yours. The way he so quickly blurred the pain to a blinding pleasure, you knew Sylus knew exactly how to use his body.
Beyond that, you knew Sylus was well acquainted with the female body. The way he fucked you was unreal, quite literally making magic with your joined bodies. The pain had faded away, replaced with an ecstasy that nearly blocked everything else out.
Nearly.
As the whooping gets louder, Sylus only fucks you harder, trying to distract you from the crowd around you, “It’s just you and me, sweeheart.”
Despite Sylus’s comforting words, he himself was still profoundly aware of the eyes on your joined bodies. But it only served to excite him, make him harder. The way all eyes were on you, the beautiful woman he’d chosen for himself, his mate. Something they could stare at but never indulge in. It drove him insane.
You nod, losing yourself as Sylus’s rhythmic pounding makes your nerves burn with pleasure, in a way that makes you confused and alarmed. You felt lightheaded, the pressure in your stomach overwhelming. It felt like you were losing control of your body, like you might have an accident all over him.
“Sy-Sylus, I think something’s – nghn – happening!” you wail, “I think maybe we should – ahngh – stop.”
Sylus groans, acutely aware, even if you aren’t, that you’re nearing your very first orgasm. You squeeze him so tightly that he can’t help but meet you at the peak of that blinding pleasure.
“Let it happen, Y/N,” he soothes, trying to mask the fact that he’s about to lose his own mind from how perfectly you’re clamping down on his cock, “You’re close aren’t you?”
Your eyes widen at the realization of what this sensation is, having heard stories from the other women in the clan, almost scared of how explosive you know it’s going to be. Your fingers furiously grapple at the thick ropes of muscles on his back, scratching deep red welts into him.
“Cum for me in front of all these people, my dove,” he coos, almost condescendingly, “Let’s show them exactly who you belong to now, hm?”
His words drip with absolute filth and it only makes the tension grow tauter, almost like a balloon being stretched to its limits before it pops. You don’t even notice when Sylus’s large hands find the area where your bodies meet.
Your eyes, screwed shut at the new sensations of mind and bodily bliss, fly open when he touches your most sensitive parts, rubbing furiously at the crest of your lips. The feeling is so overwhelming your back arches off the thick mat of straw and blankets that you rest on, chasing the sharp pleasure that his fingers bring onto your intimate regions.
“So responsive,” Sylus murmurs gruffly, “Just like that, my heart. Let yourself feel it, hm? For me.”
You’re honestly at a loss at how Sylus can speak to you coherently right now, if he feels even a fraction of the ecstasy he’s bestowing upon your body.
As your eyes roll back, your mouth parted in a symphony of the most beautiful moans and whimpers, Sylus feels himself being pushed to release. The sharp claps of applause are muted as his ears ring with the overwhelming pressure of how badly his cock wants to release inside you.
For the first time, Sylus stutters, “I-I need to cum inside you. I’m sorry, my love.”
The Mating Rite required the participating parties to unify in the most intimate ways possible, and that included the sharing of essences. And the idea of that…as new as you were to the pleasures of skinship, drove you to madness.
The thought of him filling you so deeply with him, all of him. You couldn’t explain it but you wanted it more than anything you’d ever wished for.
You can’t stop yourself from begging pathetically, “I-I want it. I want you Sy. Please.”
Your voice is practically drowned out by the intensifying cheers of the crowd, but Sylus hears your pleas loud and clear. In fact it’s the only thing he can hear, his brain drowning out anything that wasn’t you.
“Do you?” Sylus smirks, trying to maintain control despite how royally fucked your words rendered him, “So filthy for such an innocent little bird.”
“Then you’d better take it all, my love.”
With frenzied fingers, Sylus sends you careening down the unfamiliar ledge of orgasmic bliss. His thrusts grow increasingly frantic, your cunt convulsing so violently that Sylus nearly wants to black out. You were so unbearably tight that his climax was forced out of him, the warm splash of milky hot seed coating every centimeter of your perfect little hole.
As he spews into you, he feverishly takes your lips into his, desperate to taste you as his body gave you every ounce of himself. His tongue furiously finds yours, a fierce gnashing of teeth, flesh, and raw unadulterated passion. Your entire body vibrates as he moans into you, his body rocking both of you through a transcendent euphoria that will undoubtedly change your life forever.
Neither of you can even hear the screams or the toast of applause that erupts all around you, clan members quite literally celebrating at the union of their most prized warrior.
Sylus doesn’t still, biting the inside of his mouth as he ruts himself into a painful overstimulation. Yet, he can’t get enough of you, not wanting to pull out and be without your warmth, without you.
“The rite has been completed!”
As your body begins to come down from its dizzying heights, your senses start to return, your consciousness becoming vaguely aware of people crowding closer.
One of the clan elders saunters over, wanting to congratulate Sylus, parade him around like a prize the clan had secured for themselves. Sylus’s body blocks his as he approaches, his head snapping back forcefully when he feels an unwanted presence encroaching on your space, intruding on his brief moment of bliss with you.
“Sy?” you murmur wearily, your body drained of every last drop of energy, replacing your body with a heavy contentment that weighed you down.
Sylus doesn’t respond, snapping something at the clan elder, and the other important clan members that had begun to slowly approach. Though you couldn’t hear what he said, you can make out his snarky and forceful tone, a tone you’d never heard him take, especially not with you. It was filled with an authority that would normally never be taken with those of the Elder Tribunal.
But of course, he was Sylus.
Just like that, everyone is clearing out of the small meadow in which the Rite had taken place, heading back to the central square of the Grassland. The serenity left behind blankets you and Sylus, as he returns his attention back to you.
His manhood is still snug inside you, thick and throbbing again despite the copious amounts of slick dripping from where he still plugs you. Your legs are lazily clung to his sides, his thick body slotted between your shaking thighs.
“Hey…” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face.
Your eyes flutter open, twinkling when they catch the way Sylus drinks you in. His lips are quirked in a smirk, a classic display of Sylus-esque arrogance, but his crimson eyes are so tender, the sharp lines of his face softened.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your clammy forehead, wrapping his arms behind your back and cradling you in his arms. He hoists you onto his lap, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, his erection still nestled into your sore walls.
“For what?” you whisper, resting your head on his chest, trying to control the shivers that rack your body involuntarily.
“For doing this. For me.”
You glance up at him, unsure of what to say. You hardly felt like you did him a favor, between the indescribable pleasure he’d just given you and the feelings for him you’d buried deep down.
“You don’t need to thank me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever, even though the two of you finally had some privacy.
Sylus doesn’t speak, holding you dearly as he gazes off into the flat plains of the Grassland, a few large acacia trees littered in the open fields.
“It was…incredible,” you admit, “You’re incredible.”
Sylus looks down at you, the usual cockiness and arrogance faded, letting you really see into the soft and warm soul of the Grassland’s most revered warrior.
He bends down to kiss you, his lips impossibly soft and patient as opposed to the violent way he’d kissed you earlier. Every touch is a caress, every second precious and fleeting.
Sylus bites back his groan as he feels himself stirring back to life inside you. He tries to focus instead on how it feels to hold you, to have you.
He fully intended to make good on his earlier promise, showing you just how thoroughly he could love you. But for now, he just wanted to feel your lips on his, your skin against his. The way he’d always wanted. The way he’d always intended.
A warm gust of wind sweeps through the meadow, making the foliage dance lazily. For over two decades, you’d lived between these very same blades of grass. Yet as you kissed Sylus, the Grassland had never felt quite so alive.

© aeyumicore 2024.
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
#.ᐟ✧ aeyumi writes#✧.˖ aeyumi's lnds obsession#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace smut#sylus smut#sylus#qin che#lnds sylus#lnds smut#sylus x reader#sylus lnd#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#l&ds sylus#sylus x mc#l&ds#lads smut#l&ds smut#love and deep space#lads#lnds#sylus qin#love and deep space smut
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i am once again wishing d/ual d/estinies had been written with any care or consideration for what came before it
#this time it's about clay#like i actually think bringing in a childhood friend of apollo's was a good call#but the execution was soooo shoddy#not just the fact that we're introduced to him as a body#(although yknow. it also is that)#but making him a Fellow High Achiever really undercuts apollo's characterization in 4#and makes him a thematic dead weight (pun intended)#clay should've a) been introduced at the start of the game so we could get attached#and b) not been a golden child prodigy astronaut#(i also just take issue with 5's use of prodigies in general but that's another post)#anyway. back to my main point#for one it's implied that apollo had a rough childhood & grew up in the system#and deciding that that environment is a high-achiever factory flies in the face of the data#and perpetuates some really unfortunate myths about adversity etc#while undercutting apollo's characterization as kind of a ruthless go-getter#but ALSO 4 spent a lot of time setting up foils/subversions of ot characters and relationships#clay could've been a larry-style ne'er do well#with the subversion being an earnestness to counterbalance apollo (ruthless) and trucy (performer)#and a genuinely close relationship with apollo where they have mutual appreciation and respect for each other#plus the bandage on his nose would've made infinitely more sense
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it is cute to watch USAmericans celebrate Brian Thompson’s assassination (CEO of United Healthcare) but I think it also highlights a certain ignorance and false class consciousness among the country. I’m specifically referencing this smug fixation on the fact that the investors had their meeting without him anyway and that they posted his job online already, and how there is this sort of smug “hahaha they don’t care about you either!” ouroboros-esque consumed-by-your-own-labyrinth attitude of righteous self-satisfaction and I feel like the point is going over people’s head.
No CEO of a publicly traded company really thinks they are that important, and it is extremely obvious to them how replaceable and at the mercy of the shareholders and board of directors they are. actually, it is this structure and system that guarantees the most ruthless profiteers to become CEOs, because the owner class of the company has made being a ruthless profiteer part of the job description because CEOs have a fiduciary obligation to the owners to solely prioritize profit. it’s literally the law that the only thing they are to do is create profit for shareholders.
The CEO is a tool which the owner class uses to facilitate company operations, no more. Literally they are a mask to hold up in front of themselves. A prop.
Understand that the CEO dying is the point. He took the bullet, the blame, the conflagration. His purpose is fulfilled in the eyes of the faceless diffusions of power within the company. Now, get another. And seemingly the actual controllers - the owners - remain anonymous and safe.
These people are not the ruling class - they are the lowest possible rung of it. They are the vanguard for the ruling class. These are celebrities, CEOs, the public faces of the ruling class which direct resentment toward themselves and save their bosses from the fire. They exist to absorb the impact. And this is how nothing changes, because as people joke about Brian Thompson online they participate within the very safety-valve that the owner class has put in place to preserve itself. Yet seemingly it feels radical and fun and transgressive to make fun of it. Another example of how co-opting dissent is one of the primary and greatest tools the ruling class has to maintain itself.
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could you write a fic with quinn where he's dating a reporter but they keep the relationship in secret specially because of her carrer but accidently in a post game interview he slips a "thanks princess" or any other cute thing, while they are on live, n that makes her blushes and suddenly the whole hockey world knows they are together
off the record | qh43
requests are open
a/n: guys i’m sooooo sick i think im dying so this is all you get for tonight. hopefully i can catch up on drafts and requests in a little bit once im better
You’d been covering the Canucks for just over a month when Quinn Hughes became your problem.
On camera, he was a dream for a reporter — short answers, eye contact, always polite. Off camera? A menace. Quiet, smirky, and way too comfortable leaning just a bit too close.
“Nice question,” he said under his breath one night, handing back your recorder. “You practice in the mirror, sweetheart?”
You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Do you actually answer the media’s questions, or do you just flirt with them until they leave you alone?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Depends. Is it working?”
You walked away without replying.
He caught up with you later with a cup of coffee, one you hadn’t asked for, in his hand.
“Two sugars, no cream, right?” he asked.
You stared. “That better not be a guess.”
He just smiled, leaned against the hallway wall like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m observant.”
“Uh-huh. And completely unprofessional.”
He tilted his head. “So are you saying you want me to stop?”
You took the coffee. Didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t say no, either.
Over the next few weeks, the game continued. Quinn made it subtle — he never crossed the line where someone else might catch on. But you noticed. The playful jabs. The way he’d tap the table once for everyone, then twice more just for you. When you asked something tough in a presser, he’d sigh like you were personally attacking him — but always with a glint in his eye.
“You’re ruthless,” he said once after a particularly pointed question about power play production.
You smirked. “Maybe stop turning the puck over and I’ll go easier on you.”
“Ohhh,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Brutal. And you still won’t go out with me?”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re exhausting, Hughes.”
“You’ll miss me when I stop trying.”
“Looking forward to it.”
But you weren’t. Not really.
The night you finally caved, it wasn’t a grand moment. Just a quiet run-in after practice, late, both of you tired. He looked at you for a second too long. You looked back. No one else was around.
“You wanna grab something to eat?” he asked, softer this time. No smirk. No show.
You hesitated.
“Just dinner,” he added quickly. “No pressure.”
You should’ve said no. Should’ve reminded him that if anyone found out, you’d both get torn apart.
But you didn’t.
After that, everything changed — and nothing did. You kept it private. No one knew about the way he pressed kisses behind your ear when you were brushing your teeth. Or how he’d text you “media availability just got way more interesting” before games.
He never said anything on the record. Until he did.
It was a standard post-game scrum, packed with reporters. You were in your usual spot, notebook in hand, asking about third-period adjustments.
Quinn glanced at you, gave his usual answer — then added, too casually:
“We adjusted in the third, like you said, babe.”
Babe.
It was a split second. One syllable. But it echoed.
Your pen paused mid-sentence. The PR guy blinked like he’d misheard. A few reporters looked around.
You didn’t flinch. Your voice was even. “Noted. Thanks, Hughes.”
But inside, you were screaming.
Later that night, Quinn was pacing your apartment like he was being traded.
“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered. “I’m so—so sorry. You’re gonna get in trouble. Shit, I didn’t even think. It just—slipped. Like an idiot.”
You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching him spiral.
“I literally train my whole life to stay calm under pressure and I blew it with one word—”
“Quinn.”
He froze. His face glazed over with panic.
You stood, walked over, leaned against the counter, and gave him a slow once-over.
“I’m not mad.”
He blinked. “You’re… not?”
“No.” You cracked a grin. “But you should be. Twitter thinks you’re engaged now. You’re a whole meme.”
He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Oh my god.”
You pulled out your phone. “Someone edited your post-game quote over a Bridgerton clip.”
“I’m never showing my face again.”
“You’re adorable when you panic.”
He looked up at you, exasperated. “Why are you not freaking out?”
“Because if you think I didn’t screenshot the second it happened, you don’t know me at all.”
He groaned again — and this time you reached up, pulling him in by his hoodie.
“I’ll handle PR,” you said, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “But you’re doing media training again. Just in case.”
He smiled, finally, against your mouth. “Worth it.”
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Characters when they’re breeding you :)
SASUKE UCHIHA, SATORU GOJO, EREN YEAGER
Contains
__ +18 black coded reader, female reader, Squirting ,creaming, the word slut, impreg, breeding, size diff, teasing, pussy eating, talk of getting reader pregnant, unprotected sex
___brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous
a/n
__ I’m so sorry I didn’t post in a year I think lmao. Idk what happened. Forgive me :(
Sasuke Uchiha
It’s not unknown, everyone has heard his preaching about his clan and he wants to restore it. However, most people are more of speaking behind his back. How can he restore a clan when he is the only one left and yet he’s cold, frosted and lonesome? Where is the woman of his dreams? It’s merely the fact of his life, and frankly, even he knew it. Appearing to everyone in Konoha, he’s lonely, an outcast, forlorn.
That truly wasn’t it. The male simply didn’t want to settle for a woman that wasn’t worth his while. This man came from a family filled with talent and ruthless power. Indeed, he could’ve easily rushed into a relationship, however he would like more of a stable relationship. Now, justified, he is fucking a woman that bared no ring on her finger yet, but she was still his.
How could anyone not tell? The second she decided to move into the village, Sasuke found himself staying longer rather than going out on ventures. Everyone figured he’d just gotten tired, and that’s when women of all different shapes and sizes would line up. Unfortunately, they just didn’t understand… They didn’t get it.
“How come you’re so strong, but you can’t give me more..” Those words were like a black feather running down your back. All you could feel were your knees giving out, your body seeping into the bed. But Sasuke wasn’t having that… no.. he needs you to cum again. He needs you at your most neediest, he needs to warp your mind. Maybe it was manipulation, but you enjoyed his dick so much.. how come you weren’t trying to give him a baby already?
Okay.
“Sasukeee, shit~! Stop- gonna make me squirt..” Your words fell on deaf ears. Truly, the Uchiha couldn’t care or give a damn. Besides, you didn't taste bad at all. The male’s tongue was not afraid to slip into regions nobody has ever been before. Your pretty, glistening, brown lips were dripping in juices and saliva. It was a mess, and Sasuke purely enjoyed you in such a state. He’s not known to be with many women but he knew what he was doing. Seeing how you were slipping right through his fingers from pure ecstasy, seeing your pussy gush from just a bit of sucking on that clit… It was easy… But Sasuke would’ve been curse you if you weren’t so damn beautiful.
“There it is.. Don’t make it difficult next time.”
This man couldn’t hide it. He was entranced, he was deeply in love. If you could see him right now, your pussy juices dripping from his face, his right eye was now a deep red that showed the uchiha’s purpose. Red, menacing and ruthless.. while the other stayed that pretty purple. His senses, they were all on you. His eyes half lidded and his lips almost parted from each other as his fair colored cock slipped right back into you. Right after slurping on that pussy like a good smoothie.
It turned your world quick. He slid in like a key, it was perfect. Those veiny hands touched your shoulders, causing you to shiver as he ran down your shimmery brown arms, right to your wrists. Your pretty, fucked out face was pushed firm into the bed as you had no leverage to keep yourself up. Drool seeped out of your mouth onto the sheets as your eyes yelled with hearts.
You loved this man. Should you give him children? No… yes? Your mind was all over the place, but it stayed stuck in the gutter.
Sasuke kept both your wrists, pulling them back as he watched you give in. He could physically see it happen to you. It actually made his eyes widen just a smidge as the blood continued to run to his cock. Fuck. Were you really giving up? He noticed your tone, how your moans were more like chirps, whines. He didn’t stop. His thrusts were rough yet so slow and dangerously addictive. Each thrust gave a flutter to your insides, the ripples of your ass got more intense with each one. Sasuke damn sure didn’t take his eyes off of that, he loved the way that brown mound of an ass slapped against him. It was so far from ugly.
“What are you going to do for me…” His voice was grazing your skin, his breathing only getting louder as he held back each moan… The mattress was poor, all of the convincing, the pleas.. the mattress was just as broken down as you. Your walls were so nicely abused by this man that you had to thank him. You truly did! And as your next orgasm began to fall, you did too.
“Oh-oh-.. fuck! M-Imma’ give you a baby.. my- fuck Sasuke! Imma have your baby-..” it was so hard for you to speak, and yet you spit it out. Oh, you got to hear the pathetic groan of Sasuke.. just continuously diving deep into you as he let go of your wrists unwillingly. It’s like his hands got weak. You noticed this and practically gasped before lifting your upper body and he just knew his time was done.
Sasuke uchiha took pride in himself, but this? You were such a little sex demon.
“Yeah.. imma give you all your fuckin babies.. get me pregnant.” Now sass revealed, and Sasuke was trying to bite back his words and imagination. It was going wild while he noticed you bouncing back on his cock. It was disappearing every second, your pussy just swallowed it up with each bounce. He couldn’t even keep up… no, he kept thinking about that round belly.
His fingers were digging so hard in your hips they may leave marks. That’s how you knew he was so close.. he was right there. It was true, Sasuke’s breathing was getting heavier, quicker.. and his grip on you was tight.. but not as tight as your pussy.
“Too fucking tight.. take it… take it all then.” Although his voice was deep, he couldn’t hide that sharp, whistle of a moan that slipped by when he pushed forward, just balls deep in your brown pretty pussy. You couldn’t breathe, but you felt the warmth and splash of cum in your pussy. It was so much, it happened so quickly..
And all you had to say was that you’d have his babies…?
“All that cum…” You whispered as his head was resting on your upper back. You could feel his breathing all hot on your back as he was actually rubbing his thumbs gently on your hips. He was such a meanie but sometimes he just knew when to be nice. He was going to have to be nicer when you’re plump with his kids…
Satoru Gojo
You merely believe he’s joking. Literally, you didn’t blink an eye. Perhaps that sent a terrible message to the jokester. Fanning your hand at him, watching a shitty little documentary about something boring. The clocks in your head just weren’t turning correctly. But seriously, how could they when this grown man was pouting?
“Y/n… I want a baby. I wanna dress him up in identical clothes.” He said, you remember it clearly when he said this. He was not serious, couldn’t be. That little laugh that came from him, his animated expressions of demonstrating having a child. “Yeah okay Gojo” you spit out, only to turn back to your phone without having another thought about it.
You literally signed your name on the dotted line.
“You promiseeeee?”
“Yeah yeah..”
That’s what you said, and Satoru nodded. Now why did you believe that was the end of it? Probably because your boyfriend is a jokester and he plays too many games. You could tell when he was joking or being serious right? Or maybe you just weren’t looking at him and taking him seriously? It was the latter.
The whole day was filled with normalcy , nothing said of a baby nor a child. It was supposed to be a joke.
“Na ah ah… Keep them just~ like~ this~… Makes ya’ look even prettier this way” The male was piercing you with his words, they dug right in you just like his cock. He was just simply admiring his work, watching you fold your legs in a pretzel by his command. He really took a liking to this position, especially since he could hold onto your ankles.
All you did was shakily breathe out, your eyes filled with gloss and regret. Why didn’t you believe him? Now your pussy was getting all ruined and messy. And he was chuckling about it!
“Atta girl..” he spoke, the steam of his words burning right through you as you squeezed your eyes shut. Embarrassed by your gushy noises coming from your needy cunt, you decided not looking at Satoru would suffice. However, he just wasn’t having that.. first you don’t believe him, now you didn’t want to look at him? You were going to be teased today, you deserved it.
“Look at me, pretty. Watch me put a baby in you, since you thought I was jokin’..” Satoru didn’t miss a beat, his cock going in and out and in and out. You were forced to stare at him now, but you got butterflies looking into his deep, light blue eyes. They glowed with intent on getting you full with babies. But you couldn’t look at his cock going in and out. If you did, you’d see your lower stomach just bulging out ever so slightly. He was so juicy and big. His cock was as pale colored as him, veiny and had an ever so slight curve that would tease at your g-spot. And the tip of it was so pink, just as pink as your insides.
“S-Sat-…”
“That’s not my name.. Say it full out for me” His smirk was laced throughout his words as he watched your eyes roll back. Those pretty russet colored breasts were bouncing so much he could internally laugh at your predicament… Sure, you looked beautiful but sometimes it’s funny when you’re wrong. And you were wrong about it all. “Satoru… Satoru baby..” you choked out, your legs slipping from the pretzel position as you became tired.. but he just gave a little shrug.
It was alright, because he pressed his lanky fingers and his palm against the underside of your thighs and he pushed forward. You were folded up again, yet in an entirely different position as you watched him concentrate. He couldn’t stop, not for a second. Those burly arms of his were flexing as his pretty blue eyes watched your pussy eat his cock up. He was enjoying the show… and he enjoyed it even more when your eyebrows were all furrowed. He only looked up at your face once to experience heaven.
“Satoru-… O-Okay~… J-Just dump a baby in me- fuck.” You finally said it, and you threw your head back as he sped up his thrusts. His white locks of hair looked like the sun up above as he had a daring smirk on his face before he got serious. That pussy was talking to him, and he’d be dumb not to respond.
The bed was making noise with each thrust, and Satoru gripped your thighs tight. He tightened his core and gave it all he had, turns out that was just a bit too much for you because you were already creaming on his pretty dick. It was an artistic expression.. just coating his cock in your cum, it made him chuckle.. a moan following it.
“Messy…” Satoru muttered before the thrusts ceased and he slid out of your pretty little gaping hole before gently slipping two lanky fingers into you. It made you jolt with pleasure and overstimulation. It made you look at him with confusion, but you were too late. His cock slid right back into you, and his fingers slipped into his mouth.. just tasting every bit of your naughty substances.
“Oh my god-..” you moaned loudly, feeling like you were going to cry from the deepest sex you’ve ever experienced. But you weren’t the only one. Tasting your sweet cum while digging in your pussy with his tip was the best feeling ever. And Satoru was not one to keep his moans to himself. He made sure you knew your pussy was the best.
“Gonna have my baby right?”
“Yess-.. all of them…” you cried out, gripping the bedsheets and damn near tearing them.. that’s before you heard the prettiest, deepest moan. His blue eyes were filled with intense energy and warmth, that’s before you were filled with the same things… warmth and his energy.
“Damn right”
Eren Yeager
“You think I’d look cute pregnant or would I look ugly?”
Eren looked at you while you had stuffed clothes under your shirt. You shaped it so it looked like a belly, and to be fair.. you looked cute. Not saying that because you were his girlfriend, but just in general. He kind of rolled his eyes though. “Cute. Why would you look ugly” his tone sounds like he’s uninterested, but his heart thumped in ways he couldn’t explain. He never really thought of you pregnant.. and why the hell not?
“Dunno. I just can’t see it.” You added as you removed the clothes, only adding fire to the already burning house that was laying on the bed as it watched you in the bathroom mirror.
That’s when said house stood up and with a sigh he and his tall form was now behind you. His long, brown hair tickled your head while his hands grazed against your ass before stopping at your hips. He was bare at the top… scars and battles from the war on his chest that showed his strength.. truth be told, it made you wet.
“Can’t see it? Well maybe cuz’ it’s not real. See.. women get a glow from pregnancy.. not sayin you ain’t already got that.. but it’s a different glow.” Eren explained gently as you felt the cold touch of his chain behind you.. just whispering against the back of your neck. You stared at him in the mirror as he smirked with those pretty white teeth. “And how do you know all that..” you purred, almost teasing him.
“It’s a real thing.. some women get it. But you’re so gorgeous, I just know you’d turn even more heads than you do already, baby” He stopped to look at you, but not in the mirror.. from the side of your face before he kissed your jawline. “Eren… you don’t know that though-..” “wanna bet?”
The little sex fairy put an arrow right through the both of you. Had you not looked at him in a sultry manner, Eren would’ve probably let it go. He hasn’t thought about babies.. but the second you say something about pregnancy and he’s all over it like white on rice. To be fair, it was quite pathetic in a way, and he’ll admit it.. but he got weak thinking about you just all chunky with his kid.
Eren’s imagination was bright and sunny, and his determination was just that much bigger.
“R-Right there….” You sharply breathed in as you watched the man in the mirror. His veiny, scruff hand around your throat with ease. He was treating you like a puppet, making sure you stayed in the same position, and moved to his heart's content. “I know baby.. I know..” he practically cooed, his other hand caressing your thigh that was up on the sink counter. It was jiggling just as much as your ass was as he gave slow and soft strokes inside of you. This was one of Eren’s soft days.. Free from anger, free from frustration.. he has been like this for awhile now.. maybe after being discharged he’s calmed down.
Sex with him now is like a sweet sensual melody… and as of right now, he needed it to be.
“What am I doin right now, baby..”
“Y-You m-makin love to me..” you slurred out, eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head as you choked back a moan.
“Thats right… and why am I going so deep..”
“So I can give y-fuck… so I can give you a baby..” you moaned out sharply as the once cold, marble counter was now filled with the warmth of your body heat and the warm sex you two were taking part in.. The floor beneath you both was a bit wet, Eren didn’t care… He never did care for mess. Especially now.
“Thats right… Give me that reward for beating this pussy so good.” The words Eren spoke were like vibrations to your clit. It shook you to your core, like it was on the highest setting. He knew what to say and what buttons to press in your mind. Not only that, but he knew this position was so deep. You were opened up like a slut, and the way your pussy was gurgling on his cock was just embarrassing.. but that showed just how open it was.. how stretched it was for him and him only.
Eren loved it, let alone your tears falling down your face. It made him speed up. The small little decor on the sink’s counter was pushed off by accident, and your body was now being lifted from the floor a bit as his thrusts were now close together. You couldn’t feel the floor with your foot.. and the other was perched on the counter still.
“Eren!.. oh- fuck me..” your mind was spinning. It’s like you could feel each vein of his cock on your pink walls. You could feel your pussy crying for release, your orgasm at the tippy top. It was like a waterfall, your body trembled, but you could tell you weren’t the only one reaching that high.
Eren got quiet. And everytime he gets quiet, he starts biting that bottom lip of his.. he gets all red in the face and his brown hair starts to stick to his forehead a bit. His eyes spark focus, and he will then drop his head back. You watched it in the mirror, his every move.. that’s before he looked at you in the mirror once before a husky chuckle left his lips.. a moan escaping from his throat.. it was from the depths of his heart..
And his cum straight from his heavy balls went straight into your wetness. Your body took in every drop, every single one.
“I-Ion know if that did it or not..lemme try again”
ⓒ Monstas1ut .do not copy
#anime x black!reader#black reader#ambw#ambw bwam#aot x black reader#eren x black reader#naruto x reader#Sasuke x reader#naruto x black reader#jjk x black reader#gojo x black reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#aot x reader#eren x reader#jjk headcanons#aot headcanons#naruto headcanons
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M A F I O S O x GN! READER. (HEADCANONS.)
Wazzup, forsaken players/fans, making your meal for today.
Warnings: None, lol.
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M A F I O S O.

( POST UNDER THE CUT. )
• First of all, he would be quite intimidating towards you. But, knowing that he was a killer, you slowly got used to it, (just.. slowly.)
• But, after a few months of surviving and helping your teammates survive, he slowly became intrigued by you. And each round as you kept helping the survivors and doing the generator, he lurked, in the darkness, amused by this on-going cat-&-mouse chase. (And mostly, by you.)
• A few other killers would catch up to his behavior, but would never bring it up towards him. Because, knowing his status, they would rather stay silent of his softness towards you, (and only you.) than face his unnerving wrath.
• He would noticeably become more gentle towards you, in chasing, and in targeting. (Of course, for the others, he would still be the same as ever. Chasing them at full speed, scaring them, and brutally murdering them if he had a chance.)
• And when you were injured, he'd appear from the darkness, and gently help you to go to a safe spot, and probably lead you towards a medical supply kit. (Or just flat out give you one.)
• Oh, yeah, if someone tried to make fun of you, or just flat out bully/aggravate you, well, let's just say he's the first one on his hit list!
• Sometimes, he particularly daydreams about being by your side, but, of course, it would immediately be crushed, since.. you were both in opposite afflictions. And the fact always made him feel quite blue.
• ".. Hey, are you okay?" C00lkid asked him, as he broke out of his thoughts, before sighing, as he answered. ".. Yeah.. 'm.." He mumbled, as he glanced at the ground, before responding, ".. Fine.." He answered in a British accent. As C00lkid approached him, before gently patting his back in support. (Y'all, he might be a literal kid, but THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SOCIAL CUES/BODY LANGUAGE IS. HE MIGHT BE A CHILD, BUT HE'S SMART.)
• Needless to say, he's smitten and always gives you the princess treatment, (only for you.)
DATING HEADCANONS:
• Oh, you, a normal survivor, and a ruthless and merciless murderer, DATING???.. Well, that wasn't on your list, but, you couldn't complain much either.
• He would pamper you with gifts, and luxurious gifts. You have debt? Not anymore, he already cleared that out, oh, and you moved in his house (mansion), by the way.
• He would definitely act chivalrous towards you, he would gently kiss your knuckles and greet you fabulously, and if it was raining, and you had no umbrella? Oh, don't worry, your 7'0 feet tall (that's how I headcanon his height, cus, who wouldn't think his height is over 6'0 feet? Jk-) boyfriend will cover you with HIS umbrella, and if he doesn't have one? Well, he'll take of his coat, and cover you with it. (Such a gentleman.)
• And if someone flat out makes fun of you, or hurt you in anyway? Oh, bless their soul, (K, he probably won't say that to them, cus HOW. DARE. THEY.) He would absolutely call his gang and do a manhunt after that person, and absolutely show them why they shouldn't mess with what was his, you. (Don't worry, they just had a nice chat, even if they didn't appear again in a decade.)
• If someone flirts with you? He would absolutely give them the most nastiest, and threatening glare to roblox-kind, a silent warning to back, off. But if they didn't, and kept flirting with you, and started touching you without your consent. Oh, he'll absolutely pull them outside, and.. privately deal with them, outside. (They were found in an alley, dead, with broken ribs, a headshot, 23 gunshot wounds, with no evidence of the killer.)
• He wouldn't really flirt with you that much, but, after a round, be prepared for a barrage of cuddles and affection. He would hold you closely, and gently, but firm enough that you won't escape his grasp, but not that firm that it would hurt you. (The killer x survivor trope is still here, by the way.)
• Dates? Oh, if he wasn't busy.. but if he WASN'T, oh, be prepared for a luxurious feast, and lavish clothes. (I headcanon him having personal tailors that makes him his and your personal clothes.) But, he rarely goes out on public dates, since he prefers it private, since he thinks it's more intimate. But, If you begged him, he would eventually go with it. (Oh, he simply can't resist you.)
• You play instruments? Oh, he'll ask you if you can teach him, and if you compliment him on his progress, he'll quietly blush, and mumble a silent thanks.
• Would simply dance with you, in private. But, if you don't know how to dance? Well, he'll be your private tutor, he'll gently guide you the steps, if you do trip, he'll just catch you and wrap an arm around your waist, and ask if you're alright. (He's that sweet and a gentleman, if he takes an interest.
• He was probably the first one to ASK if he could kiss you, after his confession, BUT, you WOULD be the first one to kiss him, after he asked you that question. (He's probably dying inside internally lmao.)
• Overall, a 10/10 fiancee/hubby, idk, but HE'S A GREEN FLAG!!!! 💚💚
(OMGGGG THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭)
(WHAT THE FLIP, 259 LIKES ALREADY??? GAWD DAMN-)
#mafioso x reader#mafioso x Y/N#OMG THIS TOOK SO LONG WTH#forsaken#OMGGMGJJSJA TYSM FOR ALL OF YOU WHO LIKED THIS!!! LITERALLY#forsaken x reader#forsaken x Y/N#OMGNGJSJSJ THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR LIKING THIS!!! I'M LITERALLY EXPLODING OUT OF HAPPINESS RN- LIKE
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(Ignore this if this is too much to post but I think it’s ok I just REALLY needed to yap-)
okay. shadow milk.
that mf has overtaken my mind again like last year accept it’s “worse” now. (hashtag non con, yandere😇)
Shadow Milk is nothing but a powerful menace in bed i SWEAR. That sadistic jester is gonna do everything to make you scream while your getting pounded. He absolutely loves it, bonus points if your tied up by his strings because he has a bondage kink you can’t change my mind. He will turn you into his puppet weather you want it or not he doesn’t want you to escape. Oh.. he’d be throwing degrades out at you left and right you just whimper with tears falling out of your eyes not knowing what to say back. The roughness of his cock has overtaken your senses.
“Aww~! Look at how pathetic you are so vulnerable and tied up like this. It’s sad really~!” *the man chuckles*
Omg he’d wipe them tears away like he gives af about you crying from his hard dick, he just wants you for himself. I mean he does care about you in his own interesting ways but not when your tied up looking oh so submissive and on display for him.
Once he’s done he will apologize to you and try his hardest to help you recover. (your still tied up) but that’s definitely not the last time your gonna see that hardcore fucking from him.
i am Insane i need this good day/night fellow black pearl enjoyer.
ahh, he definitely would pull something like this, especially after an escape attempt. it's just a little silly, really, how you think you could trick HIM, out of all people to try this with.
MDNI
Dark content ahead- noncon, yandere, bondage
Now your face down ass up with your arms tied behind your back because of your own stupidity. He's pulling moans and dirty whines from you while drooling into the pillows. Just imagine Shadow Milk Cookie sneering down at you with that infuriating grin as he drinks in your helplessness. he’s so proud of his handiwork. His sweet favorite puppet trying to runaway from him? not going to happen.
"Oh, my dear, sweet little puppet… do you know what happens to misbehaving toys?" he'll purr into your ear while thrusting deep into your sopping cunt. His fingers cause indents into the skin of your hips. His hips keep moving, harsh and deliberate, dragging out every sensation until you’re trembling. You feel his smirk against your skin when he presses a kiss just beneath your ear, followed by a sharp nip that makes you jolt.
You try to muffle your mewls by trying to bury your face in the pillows? nope! His movements halt—but not for mercy, no, no—this is punishment. Before you can react, your world flips. He yanks himself away immediately, hands gripping you with almost effortless strength as he turns you over in one swift motion. The sheer force of it knocks the little air you had left straight from your lungs, leaving you gasping beneath him.
And through your blurry vision from your tears you can see his grin—it’s positively wicked.
"There we go~" he purrs "Don’t tell me you forgot who this show is for? Hiding those darling sounds? Unacceptable. I want to hear you." you squirm as you feel his cock once again entering, stretching you out to create a full sensation.
Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie isn’t just cruel—he’s ruthless. Every single mistake you made during your little escape attempt? He’s going to shove it in your face until it’s all you can think about.
"Really? Really? You actually thought you could get away from me?" His voice is full of mocked disbelief, like he finds the very idea laughable. "Ohhh, sweet thing, you must be even dumber than I thought! And trust me—that’s saying something!" He gives you a rough thrust as he laughs, a sharp, biting thing that makes your face burn with humiliation.
"Tell me, did you actually think you were being clever? Sneaking out in the dead of night like some tragic little hero? Oh, poor, naive you—running right into my strings, like the idiot you are." He takes in your cries and whimpers gripping your jaw, forcing your teary-eyed gaze to meet his.
"And now look at you. Back where you belong—right under me, whining, trembling, all because you thought you were strong enough to leave. Tsk, tsk." He shakes his head, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh feeling your warmth tighten around him. Oh and like you said anon, Shadow Milk Cookie does love it when you cry. Loves the way those fat, helpless tears roll down your cheeks, proof of how thoroughly he’s broken you down. But does he care? Ohhh, not in the way you’d hope.
he'll cup your face, his thumb swiping oh-so-gently beneath your trembling eyes. "What’s the matter, sweet thing? Regretting all those dumb little choices now?" tilting his head and studying you, focusing on the way your lips tremble and uneven breaths. "Mmm, no, I don’t think so. I think—" he leans in, grinning as he presses a feather-light kiss to your damp cheek"—you’re just upset ‘cause you finally realized how pathetic you are without me." listening to another sob fall from your mouth once he hits your cervix.
"It’s cute, really. You’re cute. Crying like this, all tied up, nowhere to run—" his voice dips, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive— "all mine."
And when another tear spills free? He doesn’t wipe it away.
He just laughs.
And once later comes, when your wringed out of all the orgasms you can give him, laying bare, your mind empty, and feeling like a pile of jello. Do you truly believe he would feel bad?
"Ah, my poor little puppet…" His voice has lost that razor-sharp edge, now dripping in something too soft, too mocking to be genuine. He leans over you, tilting his head as if to study the mess he’s made of you. Your body, still trembling, still bound, your chest rising and falling with uneven, exhausted breaths.
His fingers trace your cheek, a feather-light touch too tender for a monster like him. "I suppose I should say sorry, huh?" He hums, tapping his chin in thought before flashing that infuriating grin. "Buuut… I don’t really regret it." Shadow Milk Cookie's aftercare is… complicated. Twisted, but in his own way, sincere. Even if he knows he’s pushed you to your limit, even if he’s relished in your helplessness, the moment it’s over, he doesn’t just walk away. He lingers, watching you—taking in the trembling of your body, the way your breath hitches, the quiet little whimpers still spilling from your lips. A teary-eyed glare hurtles his way. "Now, now… don’t look at me like that." His voice is softer now, a stark contrast to the sharp, mocking tone from before."You’ll start thinking I’m some kind of villain!" His fingers pause at your wrist, where the bindings were, and he gives a mocking little sigh as they curl around them, then bringing them lower to different parts of your body, massaging the stiff muscles with slow, deliberate movements.
"So tell me, little puppet… have we learned anything?"
--
I learned that the best way to write shadow milk is for him to make you annoyed at how much he speaks. HE NEEDS TO SHUT UP! They say black sapphire likes the sound of his voice? well it seems like he has competition from his own master!
#shadow milk cookie x reader#shadow milk cookie smut#shadow milk cookie#yandere shadow milk cookie#yandere shadow milk#crk x reader#crk smut#crk#smut#tw noncon
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I felt like this one deserved it's own post
Mage of Blood = Understand (with/through) Blood (bonds)
To me Harry is a leader like his father, but he can be very self centered. Blood is related to bonds and i feel like that's something Harry needs to learn about. To comprehend the stakes of being on the center of the stage with everyone depending on you to save the play. Also, him being a mage comes from his mother and all her wizardy vibes.
Maid of Light = Heals, creates and (re)generates (with/through) Light (Knowledge)
Light is knowledge. I see fit for Vriska's descendant to be a healer born and raised in a peacefull world, being kind of an oposite to her, mirroring what she could've been had the world not required her to be ruthless to survive. It can also be a learning oportunity for Vrissy, who wants to be cool and badass like Vriska, but her power is centered on creating and helping instead of stealing and destroying like her
Having the same class as Aradia, who killed Vriska, and The Dolorosa/Porrim who Mindfanf/Aranea, her ancestor got killed, also reflects this. Serkets and maids don't go well. But this one does, this one will brake the cycle
I also really like keeping the aspects as a family thing that get's passed on with trolls
Thief of Time = Redistributes (with/through) Time for Own benefit
This girl is done. She was made in secret, has been hidden, pushed away like an inconvenience, sent to live far from everything, used as a hostage at a war made by all this people who are suposed to be important and are suposed to be her family but that she doesn't know. She doesn't care. She'd ask for her life back but who knows how much of it she can consider hers. She just wan't her time back. The time this gods took from her. And she's going to take it one way or another.
I also love the pattern of time players being always red(ish) and space players always being green
Heir of Rage = Invites change, control and manipulation of/in/with/through Rage.
If someone deserves to explode is Tavros Crocker. Like a joke from the universe, the off brand John is a heir like his brother, but not a heir of freedom, no, the total oposite actually. He inherited something worst and he's about to use it to full buldose everything in front of him.
I think it's also cool that Hope and Rage are oposite aspects and he has Gamzee's aspect, and oposite to his dad's. Kinda reflecting all the messed up dinamig going on at his home
So basically, Harry and Vrissy will learn about responsability and help others and Ruby and Tavros will fucking obliterate the planet
#tavros crocker#harry anderson egbert#vrissy maryam lalonde#vriska maryam lalonde#yiffany lalonde harley#ruby harley lalonde
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PUT YOU FIRST



pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : you're the only thing beside volleyball tobio has been wholeheartedly devoted to. there is nothing he wouldn't do for you, no matter how painful it might be cw : angst, no comfort, exes/breakup, pining, crying, miscommunication, post timeskip, ali roma!tobio, no use of y/n word count : 2.2k
ex!tobio who breaks your heart when he haphazardly agrees, almost without a second thought.
neither of you can recall how the idea found a footing in the first place, but the word ‘breakup’ is brought up, and suddenly it’s a reality.
“if that is what you think is best, then okay.”
ex!tobio who packs up his stuff and leaves as soon as he can, not wanting to cause you any discomfort by overstaying his welcome.
he’s quiet as a mouse as he carefully moves around the apartment to collect it all, listening to your sobs and cries that never seem to stop.
is this what he wants? absolutely not. you’re his entire world. there is absolutely no limit to the lengths he would go to for you — anything, without question.
even if that is breaking up.
ex!tobio who you now believe to be agreeable to a fault.
it is a fact people are baffled about once you tell them. everyone just believe him to be as ruthless and angry as he is on the court — but you can easily go on for hours about how once you get him on your own, there are no signs of the hard edge to him that everyone else see.
with you he is soft. kind. patient.
and up until now, you have considered it to be one of his many admirable qualities.
however, it is not something you appreciate when it regards the fate of your relationship.
ex!tobio who is, in reality, exactly the person everyone believes him to be.
he has heard it from an early age; “why do you always have to be so mean, kageyama?”, “you really are selfish, kageyama,” “let’s see how far that attitude gets you, kageyama.”
people have refused to see him as anything more than his stubbornness, therefore he sees no reason to make them believe otherwise. they have already made up their mind.
you are the first person to try and give him the benefit of the doubt.
“are you okay, tobio?,” “let me know if there’s something i can do for you, tobio,”, “i believe in you, tobio.”
ex!tobio who might be agreeable to a fault, but it is only with you.
meeting someone who takes the time to see past his outburst is something he knows he wants to cherish — he is not going to scare you away.
no fight, no argument, no disagreement is that important that it is worth the risk of losing you.
so he puts his pride aside — he will always put you first, even if it means he is miserable.
ex!tobio who therefore agrees to a breakup under the belief that he thinks it’s what you want — what’s best for you.
your world shatters as he closes the door behind him.
suddenly you feel like the entire relationship was as a scam, too good to be true.
why was it so easy for him to walk away? how was he able to hear how your broken heart drew unruly sob after sob from your lips as he folded his clothes into his suitcase? why couldn’t he fight for you?
you’re left with the impression of simply being a convenience to him, someone he could use for comfort when he needed it. and once that lost its value, he had no trouble tossing you aside.
and maybe he is exactly that person everyone has told you he was.
ex!tobio who feels a new sense of agitated restlessness take residence in his body once you’re not part of his life anymore.
it’s only when you’re gone that he realises how much you have softened him. his mind had somehow found peace it never knew existed before you came around, and suddenly it’s just gone.
he becomes angry again. short tempered as he snaps at the first inconvenience he faces.
his teammates, who has only ever known him while he was devoted to you, are left stunned at his outburst in the locker room before the season’s first match.
“what the hell has gotten into you, kageyama?”
ex!tobio who hopes your watching, even though he has no right to your attention anymore.
and of course you are. once upon a time you had promised him you would be there for all of his moments — one way or another.
under different circumstances, you would have been in the stands. the loudest person in the crowd as you watch him perform his art — instead a blaring alarm wakes you up a quarter to four in the middle of the night.
grumpily you force yourself out of bed. you curse yourself, even though you know very well this is something you’re doing of your own free will. you have no obligation to him anymore, and it’s not like he will know if you’re watching or not. you could very easily turn off the alarm, pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep, drift back into dreamland where you are still together.
but instead you bring your duvet with you into the dark living room, wrap it around yourself and switch the tv on, the sports channel that’s airing his match already on. with a yawn, you make yourself comfortable, laying down on your side and tucking your hand under your cheek.
the match is about to start, and the camera pans to tobio, showering him with praise as the talented setter he is — it doesn’t take long before you feel a quiet tear roll down your cheek. and as the game goes on, the stream continues steadily and silent.
oh, how you miss him.
ex!tobio who is a different type of nervous during the match, because it feels wrong to not have you in the audience.
on instinct, he keeps shooting glances to where you would have been sitting if you were to attend, hoping to meet your eyes. without fail, you would always look at him with such pride whenever he played.
it gave him an extra little push, having such a desire to impress you — and he looked forward to the little post-match ritual the two of you had developed.
the buzzer would end the match, declaring his victory — and while he thanked the opposing team for the game, you would hurry down from the stands.
in the halls of the stadium, you find him before they reach their wardrobe. the blush quickly blossoms across his cheeks when his teammates start teasing him.
“here she comes, champ,” one of them snickers, shoving his shoulder lightly before they all head on — but he remains.
without another second to waste, you launch at him, limbs latching on around his neck while his arms secure you in his grip, lifting you off the ground. his stance is steady — safe — as he spins you around before putting you down gently again.
the second your toes touches the floor, your hands cup his face to guide him closer. as your lips graze his, you say the same phrase you always do, “didn’t i say i believed in you?” before sealing the kiss.
but he know that won’t meet him this time. instead he’ll be alone, joining his team straight for the wardrobe.
ex!tobio who for the first time considers being selfish with you.
and he hates himself for it.
that was the one thing he was determined not to be with you — and here he is considering it, phone in hand with your number dialled.
his life is turned upside down, nothing resembling what he has grown so accustomed to. and on every aspect, he feels himself going through what he believes have to be withrdrawls.
ex!tobio is back in japan.
your mouth runs dry when you walk by the newspaper kiosk, his familiar face printed on the front page of a sports magazine. one of japan’s star athletes is returning to his home country for a tournament.
at first you’re hit with a small pang of anger — why hasn’t he told you?
and realisation hits you all over again, and yet another evening is spent alone in your apartment with wet cheeks.
however, it’s worse than it has been in a long time. somehow your body knows that he is in the same city as you for the first time in months, and it causes your heart to ache.
you don’t sleep at all that night. instead you toss and turn with the image of your past love printed behind your eyelids.
no matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen him, every detail is still intact in your memory. the exact shade of blue his irises are. the way the blush is easily brought to his face, starting across his nose before spreading across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. how he always tilts his head a little to the right when he is confused. the way his shoulders rise and fists clench when he is building up courage.
you remember it all.
ex!tobio who knows it’s naive to think you’ll show.
but it doesn’t stop him from letting his investigative stare roam the audience. one would think it is hopeless to even begin to look, but he knows he’ll spot you if you are in fact there.
he will always find you.
the game runs its course, and despite his best efforts, he never spots you in the crowd.
it doesn’t really matter that he wins the first match he plays for ali roma in his home country — because you’re not there to celebrate with him.
ex!tobio who freezes in his tracks as he is about to enter the men’s wardrobe when he hears you call his name.
“tobio?”
you voice is meek, like you’re scared. and truth be told, you are. he can clearly tell — the constant shifting of weight between each leg and the nervous fidgeting of your fingers clear indicators of so.
it’s a new feeling to take you hostage when in tobio’s presence.
for a second there’s utter silence before he hears the faint whispers of his teammates behind him, before they eventually shuffle on to leave you two alone.
he remains completely still in his spot. “hey,” he breaths, and you both immediately pick up on the fact that you’re not the only one who is nervous. he continues to stumble over his words, hoping your natural warm presence will eventually melt him out of his stance. “it’s good to see you.”
you pull your lips into an awkward smile. you too — the two words sit restlessly on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason you’re unable to speak them into existence.
“great match! you played really well!”
he knows you’re smearing on thick, serving him a little white lie. because despite winning, he didn’t performed nearly as well as he could have. maybe being back home, knowing you were easily a car ride away, had messed with his head.
“thanks,” he says even though he can’t help but quirk a suspect eyebrow. “i didn’t see you. in the audience.”
“i watched from the hallway entrance. you know, the one in the top to the left?” it makes sense why he hadn’t seen you. tobio wouldn’t have been able to see anyone up there in that lighting. “and i also came late.”
“oh. okay.”
oh. okay.
he feels stupid as the sorry excuse for a response leaves his lips, but the unexpected reunion has caused his brain you temporarily short circuit.
“i wasn’t even sure if i should come,” you avert your gaze, tilting it to look at your own fingers.
“glad you did,” he says, wishing he could have mustered a steadier speech than he did.
there’s a whirlwind of turmoil causing havoc inside him, as he debates whether or not he should seize this moment that the universe has served him and finally let himself be selfish with you.
it’s so tempting. especially when you’re nearly within reach. he only needs to take five steps forward and he can pull you into him and have you rest your cheek against his chest like you always used to.
ex!tobio who dares take three steps closer at first.
when you look up at him again, he is scared you’ll step away once you see he is standing closer. but if anything, it looks as if you relax, lips parting with a soft sigh as you look at him with such awe in your eyes.
“how are you?” you ask innocently, knowing the answer you’ll get is not the answer you want.
he shrugs nonchalantly. “not too bad,” he lies, and he hopes you’ll call him out for it. “been busy.”
“so i’ve seen,” you try to smile, but you’re almost certain your sadness swallows it.
“you have?” there is a hint of pleasant surprise in his tone.
“of course,” you nod. “promised i would, didn’t i?”
and for the first time during your conversation, he smiles genuinely. it’s faint, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there and it’s so typical tobio.
ex!tobio who finally decides he cannot fight his desires anymore. your gentle affirmation, a reminder of your devotion to each other, wis the last drop that madke the glass run over.
he says your name, and you tilt your head at him.
“yeah?”
“i still love you.”
author's note : just need to remind you all i still love him... even tho this might not be the fic that proves it hehe
tags (open — link to taglist form) : @nishislcve . @ichore . @megapteraurelia . @loveyislost . @momoewn . @poopooindamouf tobio nation : @hiraethwa . @shouyuus . @silkloom . @sodaneko . @mcdonaldsnumberone
©hiraethwrote 2025 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited
#— ଓ my creative corner#dividers by diviniyae#hq#hq x reader#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu#hq oneshot#haikyuu x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#tobio kageyama x reader#hq tobio#kageyama tobio#kageyama x reader#kageyama#haikyuu tobio#kageyama tobio oneshot#tobio kageyama#Tobio#hq kageyama
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All Of Your Pieces (18 - The Civil War)
Chapter Summary: “She shouldn’t feel like she’s a threat," you said. Natasha tilted her head slightly, considering you. “She doesn’t just feel it, Y/N. She’s been told it. Over and over. The Accords, Vision, everything. It’s going to take more than two weeks to undo all that.”
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 5k+ | Chapter Tags: Slight angst, hurt/comfort
A/N: Hell yeah I'm finally done with midterm week! So, as promised, here's an update for Sunday that I was supposed to post last Wednesday. Thank you all for waiting! // More author's notes here. GIF credits to the owner. Let me know is this is yours!
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The debate over the Sokovia Accords had always seemed like a bureaucratic exercise to you—a lot of grandstanding and red tape, destined to drag on without anything concrete coming of it. But when it ended in literal casualties, moments after the UN summit in Vienna, you realized how naive that assumption had been.
The explosion dominated every news channel, every forum, for weeks. Footage of the carnage played on a relentless loop, like a ruthless reminder that refused to let the world move on. It stoked their anger and fear of the superpowered intensifying—further solidifying the need for a regulation of some sorts.
And then there was Steve—Captain America—standing between the law and a man the world had already convicted in its collective mind. Protecting a criminal—or so it seemed at first glance. But if you squinted, if you dug beneath the hysteria, you could see the loopholes in the story.
You were taught to never take things at face value. To investigate, to question, to confirm. The video evidence of James Barnes near the scene of the bombing was damning, but not airtight. The timing was too perfect and the evidence too clean—as if it was designed to be found. And then there was the sheer improbability—someone like Barnes being sloppy enough to leave a clue, to incriminate himself by carrying out such large-scale destruction carelessly.
If it really was him, you figured, no one would know. The world wouldn’t have a name to blame or a face to crucify.
Steve believed it too. He didn’t just think Barnes was innocent—he knew it. Or at least he believed in him enough to stake his own reputation on it.
The manhunt for Barnes split the Avengers right down the middle. Tony and Natasha were working with the UN and the German authorities, pushing for Barnes’ immediate capture, while Steve enlisted Sam’s help to find him first and uncover the truth once and for all.
Which left you stuck at the compound with Wanda and Vision—because, of course, that’s just how your luck worked.
—
You’d been keeping to yourself, burying your head in books and doing whatever busywork you could find to keep from dwelling on it all. It wasn’t a peaceful kind of quiet, though—not even close. It was rife with tension, and you hated that your main orders were to stay put.
You’d seen Vision and Wanda together more lately. They were spending time in the kitchen, of all places. Vision seemed to have developed a fascination with cooking, and Wanda, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, had decided to humor him.
That’s how you ended up at the world’s most uncomfortable dinner.
The table stretched long, built to fit the entire team, and you settled a few spots away from them. Vision had made something intricate, his approach to food as overly analytical as you’d expect. Wanda had contributed in small ways—chopping vegetables, stirring sauces—but it was clear who had taken the lead.
You sat across from them, awkwardly poking at the meal on your plate. It was good, technically. Perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked. But the scene around the table made it hard to enjoy. Vision sat still, weirdly choosing this time not to participate in this human activity. He looked perfectly content watching his two eaters, wanting to see if he had earned their approval. Wanda wasn’t eating much. She was pushing her food around, her eyes darting toward him, then to you, then back to her plate.
“Is it to your liking?” Vision asked.
“It’s fine,” you said, knowing full well it was much better than that but not feeling generous enough to say so.
“Wanda assisted with the preparation,” he added, almost as if he thought that might tip the scales.
You glanced at her. She gave a small, half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Just chopping and stuff,” she said.
After that, the conversation died again.
It had felt like a good time to disassociate, and you let your mind drift off somewhere else. More specifically, to the growing rift between Tony and Steve. The misunderstandings were no longer petty disagreements but fundamental divides. If push came to shove, you still hadn’t decided where you stood.
You used to joke about Tony and Steve acting like divorced husbands, bickering over every little thing. Now, the irony wasn’t so funny. They were barreling toward something that resembled a real divorce, and you could almost see them dividing the team like children—figuring out who got custody of whom.
But you? You were always the lone wolf. It seemed more likely you’d walk away from them both, let them fight their battles while you disappeared into the shadows. You’d done it before, and the thought of doing it again didn’t terrify you. And maybe that was the problem.
A sharp noise from outside yanked you out of your thoughts. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to put everyone on edge. Vision’s head cocked slightly, as if concentrating to learn more about what they all just heard.
“Stay here,” he ordered calmly.
“Wait—” you started, but before you or Wanda could get another word out, he disappeared, phasing cleanly through the nearest wall and leaving you both sitting in uneasy silence.
For a moment, neither of you moved. You glanced at Wanda, her fork frozen midair, her eyes trained on the spot where Vision had disappeared. Finally, you exhaled and nudged your plate aside. “This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” you murmured.
Wanda’s head snapped up. Then, to your surprise, a laugh slipped out of her—short, almost involuntary, like it had been startled into existence. “I could tell,” she said, her lips curving into something that might’ve been a smile.
It was angelic and utterly contagious. You smiled back, soft and unplanned, like your body decided for you. It’s the most interaction you’d had with her for a while after bringing her to the orphanage weeks ago.
God, you’d missed her.
Out of the corner of your eye, something shifted. Without thinking, you were on your feet, moving to Wanda’s side, positioning yourself as a human shield. It was a ridiculous gesture—pathetic, even—considering what she could do versus what you could offer. But instinct doesn’t care about logic. The drive to protect her overrode everything else, propelling you forward before your brain could catch up.
Clint Barton strolled toward you, bow slung over his shoulder, every inch of him looking like he was prepped for a mission. And judging by the timing, it didn’t take a genius to figure out—you, Wanda, and Vision were the mission.
“Clint?” you uttered in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“Disappointing my kids,” he replied dryly, stepping fully into view with that familiar half-grin you hadn’t seen in ages. “Cap needs our help. Come on.”
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I’m not disappointed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered, his eyes scanning the room, barely giving you a glance. “We need to move. Both of you. Now.”
You were on your feet before he could say anything else, your hand closing around Wanda’s wrist without a second thought. It wasn’t until you felt her skin warm under your grip that you realized what you were doing. You let go just as quickly, glancing back at her with a quiet apology in your eyes.
But Wanda wasn’t paying attention to you. She was giving Clint a hard look, her feet planted firmly on the ground.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda said, surprising you both.
“Wanda, you can’t stay here,” Clint said. “After Lagos—”
“I’ve caused enough problems,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s better if I stay out of sight. Out of everyone’s way.”
“You gotta help me, Wanda. Look, you wanna mope, you can go to high school. You wanna make amends, you get off your ass. Y/N, help me out here.”
You glanced at Wanda, trying to decipher what she’s thinking but you came up empty-handed. You turned back to Clint. “You let her decide, Clint. You don’t drag her onto your side—or anyone’s. She chooses.”
Clint chuckled, eyeing you like he already expected your answer before you did. “And what about you? Which side are you on?” he asked.
You opened your mouth to answer, but hesitated, not because you didn’t know the answer—you did. You just weren’t ready to say it out loud.
Because the truth was simple: whichever side Wanda chose, that’s where you’d be.
You’d told yourself you could walk away from this. From the Avengers, from the divide, from the mess of it all. And maybe you could. Maybe you would have.
But Wanda—
You wanted to look after her.
You were saved from answering altogether when Vision reappeared, phased through the far wall.
“Aw, hell,” Clint muttered, his hand twitching toward his bow.
“Clint Barton,” Vision said. “You are not authorized to be here. Step away from Wanda.”
“Yeah, see, the thing is,” he said, casually shifting his stance as he engaged an arrow, “I don’t really care about authorization.”
Clint didn’t wait for Vision’s retort. He released his arrows and triggered the traps he’d set—an electrified net sprung from the ceiling, enveloping Vision in crackling energy. For a split second, you thought it might actually work.
It didn’t.
Vision freed himself out of the net like it was tissue paper, the electricity harmlessly dissipating around him.
“Yeah, well, worth a shot,” Clint muttered, already nocking an arrow. He let it fly, but Vision caught it midair with a speed that was almost unfair.
Clint moved fast, dodging Vision’s strikes with a skill that came from years of experience. He didn’t try to overpower him—he wasn’t stupid—but he kept Vision moving, trying to distract him, to buy time.
Vision held back, almost smug—you'd think he was waiting for Clint to tire himself out, running circles that led nowhere.
“Y/N, a little help?” Clint called, ducking under a swipe from Vision that could’ve caved his skull. Before you could even think to move, Vision had Clint in a chokehold, his vibranium arm coiling around Clint’s throat. Clint's attempts to break free looked almost pathetic, his fists thumping uselessly against Vision's arm.
You froze for a split second, looking at Wanda. Was this what she wanted? Her face gave you nothing, and in that moment of indecision, Clint’s choking gasps snapped you into action.
You rushed forward, grabbing onto Vision’s arm and hauling yourself up, trying to throw him off balance. He barely budged. Desperation took over as you reached behind your back, pulling a small blade from your pocket.
Vision caught the motion instantly. His free arm shot out, grabbing your wrist and twisting it sharply. Pain shot through your arm as the knife clattered to the floor.
You gritted your teeth, trying to fight through the pain. “Let him go, Vision!”
Clint’s face was red now, his struggles weakening. You kicked at Vision’s side, but it was like hitting a brick wall.
“Vision, that’s enough!”
Vision's grip loosened for just a moment, enough for you to catch your breath, before it cinched tighter. You bit back a whimper, already feeling the marks that would bloom across your skin.
"I said, that’s enough," Wanda commanded as red energy crackled menacingly at her fingertips.
Vision moved to finish the job and the energy surged from Wanda’s hands, slamming into Vision and lifting him clean off the ground. The moment his hold broke, you and Clint crumpled like discarded ragdolls.
“If you do this, they will never stop being afraid of you,” Vision said. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell Vision he was wrong, but Wanda spoke first.
“I can’t control their fear,” Wanda murmured. Her shoulders sagged as she sighed wearily, looking like she already regretted what she was about to do, knowing it would hurt Vision. “Only my own.”
The ground opened up like a wound, swallowing Vision whole. Wanda’s power didn’t just push him down—it buried him. The compound’s reinforced flooring crumbled like dry leaves, and the sound of his descent—steel on steel, concrete splitting apart—made your stomach churn.
You sat up, head pounding, ribs screaming. Clint was coughing beside you, dragging himself upright with a hand braced against the wall. Neither of you spoke. What could you say?
Wanda stood over the crater she’d made, her hands slack at her sides, red sparks still licking at her fingertips. Her face was blank, but you knew her well enough by now to see through it. Her breathing was too shallow, her shoulders too stiff. She wasn’t fine at all.
It was a little jarring to think that just a few hours ago, they were cooking together in the kitchen.
“Wanda,” you started, still trying to catch your breath. “Is he—”
“He’ll survive,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Clint gave a weak chuckle, thoroughly impressed and a little horrified. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
—
Things happened dizzyingly fast after that.
You’d only meant to get Wanda to Clint, to make sure she was safe, but everything spiraled at the airport. You hadn’t thought past that, hadn’t considered the bigger picture or the consequences of leaving the compound with her.
The fight was brutal—friends turning on friends—and you barely kept up, trying to shield Wanda when you could. You’d been hurt, subdued like a criminal, strapped into restraints that bit into your skin. But none of it mattered. Your entire focus was on Wanda—if she was okay, if she was hurt, if she blamed you for any of it.
When they threw you in The Raft, the humiliation of it barely registered. All you could see was Wanda, restrained in that awful straitjacket, her face pale and blank, her hands trembling. It must have been harder on her than anyone else—treated like a criminal with the weight of Lagos hanging over her head. In that moment, you made your choice—Steve had your loyalty now, no matter what came next. But even that didn’t compare to how fiercely you had Wanda’s back. That was something else entirely.
Now, two weeks later, Valencia felt like limbo. A place to breathe—
—with a target on your backs, well, not really.
—
Valencia might’ve been halfway around the globe, but you treated it like hostile territory all the same. Your face—along with the rest of those who backed Steve in his fierce objection to the Sokovia Accords—had hit every newsfeed, and you couldn’t afford to relax here or anywhere else, for that matter. You dressed down, stuck to side streets, and kept your head low. It was Spain, but it might as well have been home—just another place where you were never really safe.
“Have you heard from Clint?”
Natasha nodded before turning the page of the newspaper she’d been reading since this morning. “Yeah. He’s working out a deal with the government.”
You frowned. “What kind of deal?”
“Something about a plea bargain,” she said. “House arrest, probably. It’s the only way he gets to be with his family.”
Clint had fought for all of you, risked everything to stand with Steve, to break Wanda out. It hadn’t fully sunk in just how much he’d sacrificed until now—how much he put on the line for what he believed in.
“That’s messed up,” you muttered, mindlessly stirring the honey you’ve put in your tea a few minutes ago. You’d yet to take a sip. “If Clint’s willing to sacrifice being with his family, how can Tony not see what we’re standing for?”
Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Tony sees it. He just sees something else too.”
“Like what?”
Natasha didn’t respond right away. She just looked at you, her gaze steady, like she was weighing her next words. “You weren’t there.”
For a moment, you were confused. “Where?”
“In the Battle of New York. When the sky opened up, and Earth faced the greatest threat it had ever seen—and wasn’t ready for.”
Natasha sighed and took her sunglasses off—a risky move as the cafe was in the middle of a crowded street—but she needed you to more than just hear the words out of her mouth, you needed to see how this wasn’t some trivial disagreement between two people who cared about the same thing. “Tony was at the front lines, throwing everything he had into the fight. There were so many casualties. We couldn’t save everyone, no matter how hard we tried. And the guilt of that... it doesn’t wash off, no matter how many victories come after.”
You frowned, gripping your mug a little tighter. “So his solution is what? Autocracy?”
Natasha laughed and put her glasses back on. “I wasn’t aware you knew what autocracy was,” she teased. “Though, if you really did, you’d know what Tony wants is far from it. This is an entirely different situation.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at your own lips. “If you understand Tony so well, why are you here with us?”
“I’m not here because I switched sides,” she said simply. “I’m here because you need me more than Tony does.”
And she was right. You did. It was bad enough that Clint wasn’t here. You hadn’t realized how much they’d become your safety net until you were on your way and it hit you—you were on your own now. No longer celebrated as a hero but a renowned fugitive. Natasha’s grounding presence was the only thing keeping your nerves from unraveling completely.
“Are you going to drink that?” Natasha asked after a while.
You glanced down at your tea, still stirring the spoon aimlessly. It was cold by now. You shrugged. She waved to the waiter and asked for the bill.
“I tried to convince Wanda to go out today,” Natasha said casually, like she wasn’t sure how you’d take it. “Thought a walk might do her some good.”
You looked up from your tea, surprised. “And?”
“She passed.”
You sighed loudly. “It’s been two weeks.”
“It’s not enough time for some people.”
You didn’t say anything right away, not wanting to push or show how much that affected you. Two weeks felt like forever when you were going over everything in your head when you first got out of the country. For Wanda, it must’ve felt like a lifetime—and not in the way that healed anything.
“Did she say why?” you asked quietly.
Natasha’s lips twitched, like she wasn’t sure whether to smile or sigh. “She didn’t have to. She thinks stepping outside is dangerous. For her, for everyone. And maybe she’s not wrong.”
“She shouldn’t feel like she’s a threat,” you said.
Natasha tilted her head slightly, considering you. “She doesn’t just feel it, Y/N. She’s been told it. Over and over. The Accords, Vision, everything. It’s going to take more than two weeks to undo all that.”
—
The hotel you’d been staying at for the past three nights was tucked away from the town center, far enough that the food you’d picked up for Wanda had gone cold by the time you got back. The isolation had its perks, though. This part of town had a quiet charm, with streets adorned in LED lights strung like Christmas was a permanent state of mind here.
The team had split up to stay under the radar. Steve accompanied Bucky to Wakanda, bartering a deal with T’Challa. Sam was stationed in a modest inn on the opposite side of the city, while you, Natasha, and Wanda ended up here, in a small, charming hotel surrounded by cobblestone streets and 15th-century architecture. With no mission except to stay hidden, it should’ve been the perfect chance to soak in the city like a tourist, to appreciate the timeless beauty around you.
But instead, you found yourself standing outside Wanda’s hotel room, the takeout bag dangling from your hand. You took a shaky breath, then another, willing your heartbeat to slow. It wasn’t working. Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of the bag, the cheap paper threatening to give out at any second.
Why were you so nervous? It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d seen Wanda since… everything. But things were different now. She felt different, like she was retreating into herself more and more each day.
Another deep breath. You adjusted your grip on the bag, smoothed down the front of your jacket, and gave yourself a silent pep talk. She needed you, just like you needed Natasha. Like you needed Clint.
Finally, you raised your hand, but before your knuckles met the wood, the door creaked open.
Wanda stood there, barefoot, her frame almost swallowed by an oversized shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder. It was frayed at the hem, the fabric softened by too many washes. Her pajama pants—faded plaid—looked like they’d seen better days, one cuff slightly torn where it dragged against the ground. She looked as worn as her clothes, her hair in a messy bun with stray strands framing her face.
For a moment, she just blinked at you.
“You knew it was me?” you asked, your voice coming out thinner than you'd intended.
“I had a feeling,” Wanda said with a small, knowing smile. “You breathe a little too loud.”
An embarrassed chuckle escaped you, awkward and unsteady, and you suddenly remembered the takeout bag clutched in your hand. Her gaze followed yours, and she tilted her head slightly.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, right,” you said, your face heating up as you held it up like a peace offering. “It’s for you. Some kind of beef stew—I, uh, forgot the actual name. It’s probably cold now, though. You should—”
Before you could ramble any further, Wanda reached out and took the bag from your hands. Her fingers brushed yours briefly, and the simple touch sent you into a headspin. “Thank you,” she murmured, looking into the bag.
You swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. “You’re welcome, Maximoff.” It felt like the right moment to leave, like you’d done your part, but your feet refused to move. You stood there like a fool, heart hammering, until Wanda—thankfully—broke the silence.
“Would you like to come in, Y/N?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly, as if she wasn’t entirely sure of herself either.
Too nervous to speak, you merely nodded.
—
The room was a bit of a mess—not filthy, but definitely in disarray. Books and papers were scattered across the coffee table, a pair of shoes lay haphazardly near the door, and a jacket was draped over the back of a chair. Wanda must have noticed your gaze drifting across the space because she quickly began tidying up. She grabbed a bundle of clothes from various corners—sweatshirts, a scarf, what looked like a pair of mismatched socks—and folded them into a neat pile. With an almost embarrassed smile, she placed them on the small sofa tucked beneath the room’s single window.
“Sorry,” Wanda murmured, “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”
“It’s fine,” you said quickly, though your eyes darted back to the room despite yourself. There was something endearing about the lived-in clutter, a reminder that Wanda, for all her power and grace, for all that had happened in recent weeks—was still human in moments like these.
She gestured awkwardly toward the sofa. “You can sit, if you want. Sorry again for the mess.”
“You really don’t have to apologize. My place is worse,” you said. It wasn’t.
Wanda offered you a half-smile as she moved to the kitchenette, pulling open a drawer to grab some utensils. “I find that hard to believe,” she teased lightly.
Busted. Your room at the compound had been practically bare. Your hotel room now was even emptier. You missed your own apartment, but could only assume it had already been raided by the feds.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shot back, and she laughed softly, the sound settling something nervous and fluttering in your chest.
Wanda set the bowl on the counter and turned on the stove. You watched as she poured the stew into a small saucepan and stirred it absently.
“You should eat some too,” she said over her shoulder. “It’ll taste better warm.”
“I already had dinner, actually.”
Wanda glanced back at you, her brow lifting in question. “With Nat?”
You nodded, feeling oddly exposed under her gaze. “Yeah.”
Her lips quirked, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How’s she doing?”
It wasn’t the kind of question that invited much of an answer—it felt more like something to say, just to fill the space. You gave a half-shrug, unsure what else to do with it. “She’s fine.”
Wanda didn’t push for more. She settled onto the sofa beside you, tucking her legs beneath her and taking a small bite of the stew.
You wanted to ask how she was. How she was holding up after everything. But you couldn’t get any word out. You didn’t know how to ask without making it sound like pity, and you didn’t want to do that to her. Still, the question burned at the edge of your thoughts.
It had to be hard, being in the middle of all this again, being wanted—hunted—just like she was when she aligned with Hydra. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Vision was on the other side now, the person who should’ve stood with her through it all, standing with the people determined to stop her. That kind of fracture would break anyone.
You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was focused on her food, but the energy radiating off her couldn’t talk you out of asking her if she was okay.
“Wanda?” you started, “Are you—”
“I’m okay,” she said, cutting you off gently, as though she knew what you were going to ask. For a moment you considered if she was reading your mind at the moment.
She set the bowl down and offered you a faint smile. “Really.”
You nodded, though you didn’t really believe her. The room fell quiet again, and you looked away, legs starting to bounce a little as you thought of what to say next.
“Has Steve come up with the next plan yet?” Wanda asked.
Her question confused you for a moment, making you feel like you’ve missed something. “Plan? Plan for what?”
She shrugged, chewing her food thoughtfully. “To come back. To clear our names. To return to…” She trailed off. To return to our normal lives.
Oh. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Being an Avenger never felt anything close to normal, so you weren’t sure you ever really knew what normal was.
You wanted to assure her that Steve’s working on it, but you couldn’t lie to her either. From what you heard from Nat, Steve was preoccupied with helping Bucky’s asylum in Wakanda. And that could take a while. “I don’t think that’s possible anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“Steve and Tony…” You exhaled slowly, trying to find the right way to explain. “Their misunderstanding—it’s serious this time. It’s not something that’s going to blow over.”
“Right,” Wanda said curtly, then fell silent, turning her attention back to her food.
Without thinking, you blurted, “Do you miss Vision?”
Her head jerked up, her eyes wide like she hadn’t been expecting you to mention Vision at any point in this conversation.
“I…” Wanda deliberated. “I do.”
You forced your jealousy down your dry throat. Of course she did. What were you thinking, even asking? Vision was her lover. They were clearly going through something, and here you were, dredging it up. You should’ve left right after giving her the food—that would’ve been the perfect time to go.
“I regret what I did to him,” Wanda said suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. “Burying him w-with…with my powers.” Her hand tightened around the spoon, the metal scraping against the edge of the bowl. “I didn’t think—I just reacted. And it wasn’t just him. I hurt the others too. At the airport.”
Your breath hitched. This wasn’t what you expected. “Wanda—”
She shook her head quickly, cutting you off. “I didn’t mean to lose control. I thought I was doing the right thing. Fighting for the right side. But after everything… I don’t know if there is a right side anymore.”
Her honesty floored you. You’d spent so much time blaming Tony for losing control, for going after Bucky, that you never stopped to turn the lens on yourself. You’d had your careless moments, caused your share of injuries to civilians on missions. You were just as responsible for how things unraveled—just like Steve, Tony, and the rest of the team.
“I want to believe we’re all still on the same side,” you muttered, resting your elbows on your knees as you searched for the right words. “That we’re still fighting for the same things—for justice, to protect people, to make things better. We’ve just… messed up how we’re going about it. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. We just need to figure out how to sort it all out.”
You swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. “I’m sure Vision forgives you for what happened. He… he loves you. And you two? You’re going to be okay.”
Her head snapped up at that. “What do you mean, ‘we’re going to be okay?’”
You winced, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck as you tried to clarify. “I just mean, yeah, sure, it might be a deal breaker for some people—getting buried alive and all—but Vision… he’s not like that. I don’t think he’d break up with you for—”
“We already broke up.”
You froze, staring at her. “What?” was all you managed to say.
Wanda sighed, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a soft clink. “We broke up. Before Clint came to get me from the compound.”
“Why?” you found yourself asking. You thought you'd feel happy, or at least relieved, but the truth left a bad taste in your mouth. Two people you cared about—yes, you’d finally admitted to yourself that you cared more than you wanted to—had ended their relationship, and somehow, that didn’t sit right with you. “I thought… I thought you two…”
“It wasn’t working,” Wanda explained. “We wanted it to, but things between us were always… complicated. And after the Accords, after everything that happened in Lagos…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It became clear that we were too different. He wanted peace. I wanted… freedom. And I guess we couldn’t find a way to have both.”
Wanting different things has a way of pulling two people off the same path. You wanted freedom too—but until you stopped chasing it, how could you want anything else? How could you want what Wanda wanted? But then, you’ve never aligned your interests with someone just to stay by their side, so why start now?
“I’m sorry,” you said finally, the words feeling small but all you had to give.
She gave you a small, tired smile. “Don’t be. It was mutual, even if it still hurts.”
You wanted to say something—to comfort her, to remind her she wasn’t alone—but it didn’t feel like the right time. Maybe this was a moment to sit with it, to let everything settle. So instead, you reached out, your hand finding hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. A quiet way of saying, I’m here.
It was the first time in weeks you’d touched her.
Wanda looked down at your hand, then back at you. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Your heart slowed, like it wanted to stretch this moment out, to hold onto the feeling of her hand beneath yours forever.
You gave her a small nod. “Always.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#unbetad#my writing#my fic#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda maximoff fanfiction#fic request#wandavision#All Of Your Pieces#AOYP#clint barton#natasha romanoff#steve rogers#the avengers#vision#tony stark
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𝔄 𝔊𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞 𝔊𝔬𝔡 (𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯)



ϟ 𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: God! Choi Seungcheol x Mortal afab! Reader
ϟ 𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Your marriage wasn't the one to be envied. Marry to one of the ruthless kings due to an arrangement from your father. Being nothing more than a pawn. And you despise it all.
On the night of drinking and celebrating, you decided to turn in for the night. As you walk into your shared bedroom, you are greeted by a God, not just any other God. The God of Sky and Thunder. King of Gods himself. Who came with a gift.
ϟ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 937 (Teaser); 4k or more (Full)
ϟ 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Dom Zeus! Seungcheol, Sub Lady! Mortal Reader, dirty talking, breeding kink, oral (f. & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms and multiple positions, small amount or maybe more manhandling, a bit of praise kink or more, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), crying from pleasure, size kink, choking, your "husband" talking badly about the gods, Pet name: (y/n): darling. (I feel like I miss something but if I am. Let me know)
ϟ 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: To be listed…
ϟ 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: This was kind of inspired by a post I made and I thought about it and went "Yeah. Let's go for it." If there are some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry. I will edit them later. Supposed to be out in late September (before the hurricane hit Friday) but I MANAGE to get service so here we are. I promise I would get out and I took this chance to get out on luck. Please comment, like, reblog for support.
You sigh as your head presses against the frame, exhausted from the day's events.
"Long night!"
You heard a voice behind you. You turned around to see a mysterious man lying on his side across from your bed, a mischievous grin on his face. You felt a jolt of surprise at the man's unexpected presence in your bedroom. "Who are you?" you asked cautiously, your heart racing uncertainly. The man chuckled softly and replied, "I'm just someone who couldn't resist meeting you."
You glanced at the man's appearance. He had a white toga draped over his shoulder and a gold cuff wrapped around one of his biceps, which was exposed. His pec was exposed, while the other was concealed under the toga. His toga was short so that you could see his muscular legs. His eyes were pierced brown, and his smile was charming. His hair was black and wet, and he was breath-taking. The more you look at him, the more you find yourself drawn to his mysterious aura. You were so lost in thought that you heard him laugh.
"What's the matter, darling? Lost in thought?" he asks with a playful smirk.
You shook your head, cleared all your thoughts, and got to the question.
"W-What are you doing here? You are trespassing, and I would appreciate it if you left immediately," you stammer, feeling a mix of fear and fascination at the mysterious stranger in your room. The man chuckles, his grin widening as he replies.
"Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the celebration of your king's victory. As if your husband needed it," the man said.
A small scoff escaped his lips. "That your husband of yours," he continued.
"That man thinks we are not the reason behind his success. He's so power-hungry and incompliant that he can't even get on his knees and thank us after what we've done to make him victorious. I must say I don't think they'll be so happy to hear about that. It's a shame. Really. How ungrateful people can be," the man said with a hint of disappointment.
You listen as this man talks badly about your husband like he knows him. Before you could speak, he continued.
"But you, Lady Y/N."
You froze as the mysterious man said your name.
"You're such a loyal worshipper. You thank the gods for every endeavor and never falter in your devotion. A woman like you should be rewarded," the man expressed.
The way the man in front of you looks at you. It was like he was undressing you with his eyes. His gaze was intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to maintain your composure.
"W-Who are you?" you said, asking again.
The man smirked at my question.
"I am known by many names. Zojz. Tinia. Jupiter. Zeus. But," the man said as he slowly rose from your bed, full of confidence, "you can call me Seungcheol."
Your eyes widen in shock as you realize the man's true identity. "M-My... God," you stammer, feeling two emotions at once: fear and awe wash over you. You instantly fall to the floor, bowing. "Please forgive me for any disrespect I may have shown," you say, bowing your head in reverence.
Seungcheol chuckled softly, his grin widening at your reaction. A loyal follower, he thought to himself. He slowly approached you as you kowtowed before him, his presence towering over you. "Rise," he commanded gently, offering a hand to help you stand. As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but feel an admiration and reverence for the god standing before you.
"There will be no formalities," he said. As you take his hand and stand up, Seungcheol's eyes twinkle with amusement. He was taller than you expected, and his presence exuded a sense of power and authority that made you feel equally intimidated and intrigued.
"My god."
You were speechless. You didn't know what to say, and the words hadn't even begun to form. Seungcheol noticed your awe and chuckled softly.
"You seem lost in words right now, darling," Seungcheol said. His deep voice resonated through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was as if he could read your thoughts and emotions with just a glance.
"I-It's just that I didn't expect such a sudden visit," you stammered, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Would you like me to leave?" he asked. You shake your head quickly. "N-No. Please stay. I didn't mean—"
"Don't worry, darling," Seungcheol interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Just teasing you a bit."
His smile was gentle and warm, putting you at ease. He then stepped away from you and trailed around the room. Taking in everything about his surroundings, even looking at the unfinished tapestry mounted on the wall. With a persistent and powerful head, he strolled around.
"Besides, I didn't want to leave without giving you a gift," Seungcheol stated.
A gift... for you...
"W-What kind of gift?" is all you can manage to stammer out of. "A special one," he answered.
"How special is the gift?" you asked, curious. Seungcheol finally stopped walking and turned back to you with a mysterious glint in his eyes, making your heart race with anticipation.
"What if I told you that your gift, your special little gift, was something that I wanted to show you? To thank you for showing such admiration for me?" Seungcheol responded with a mischievous smile. Your mind raced with possibilities as you waited for him to reveal the surprise he had in store for you.
"What if I said your gift was me?
⋘ READ NOW ⋙
#seventeen#choi seungcheol#scoups#seventeen seungcheol#svt#seventeen smut#scoups smut#choi seungcheol smut#seventeen x black reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#seungcheol x black reader#scoups x reader#svt smut#svt x reader#scoup smut#seungcheol smut#black writers#choi seungcheol x black reader#svt imagines#svt x black reader
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ALL I NEED..!!


it feels better to fall asleep alone ('cause that's the only way i know)
𓂃۶ৎ psychology professor!geto suguru x student!reader. smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort. gojo professor cameo. reader insert, alternate universe, academia au pretty much, teacher-student relationship, forbidden love trope, stupid love at first sight, porn with plot. geto is a teacher and be honest we all wanna fuck him, drug usage (recreational or not), smoking, alcohol, partying, VERY immature behaviours, age difference (it is legal though!), reader in her early 20s, geto in his mid 30s, office (desk) sex, pussy eating, facesitting, blowjobs, handjobs, semi-public sex, missionary, doggy, yeah this one is freaky, breeding kink, shower sex, corruption kink, eventual pregnancy, masturbation, phone sex, mutual masturbation, loss of virginity. hard university life www, "secret" crush (not secret at all..), lowercase intended. !! i do not condone irl relationships like this guysss it's power imbalance that's why it seems hot (plus it's sugu) but it can really REALLY fuck your life up!!
𓂃۶ৎ well - your high school teachers warned you. college sucks - it's hard, unforgiving and ruthless. and you have to pay for it. ha! but.. there is some good to it, you think, as you see your psychology professor - and damn, he's hot. as fuck.
it seems that fate had some mercy on you; your major is psychology, so you'll be spending most of your time at the university at his lectures. and he's such a fucking eye-candy. but little did you know... fate binding you two together was not an act of mercy, no - rather ruthless cruelty, because your crush on the professor seems to develop. but you can't cross that line, right? ...right?
𓂃۶ৎ artwork made respectively by @/tomiokamon and @/mayokedi on twt!! :3
i. school's in, another year.. ; posted! 1971 words.
ii. what you're doing to me ; not posted yet!
iii. too young to fall in love ; not posted yet!
iv. for i toss and turn, i can't sleep at night! ; not posted yet!
v. make her feel right when it's wrong ; not posted yet!
vi. she just wanna get high! ; not posted yet!
vii. i really think you're lovely ; not posted yet!
viii. something's not okay ; not posted yet!
ix. whole party, but he only want me, tho! ; not posted yet!
x. stupid for you ; not posted yet!
xi. beauty school ; not posted yet! (smut mostly chapter)
xii. i just want you to see the best of me ; not posted yet!
xiii. no such thing as too young ; not posted yet!
xiv. speaking in tongues ; not posted yet! (smut only chapter)
xv. lovesick ; not posted yet! (smut mostly chapter)
xvi. taking over me ; not posted yet!
xvii. everything falls apart ; not posted yet!
xviii. fucked your way up the ladder ; not posted yet!
xix. eat you alive ; not posted yet! (smut only chapter)
xx. tear you apart ; not posted yet!
xxi. even when you think i hate you, i still love you ; not posted yet!
xxii. you kill me (in a good way) ; not posted yet!
xxiii. to keep her safe is all i know ; not posted yet! (smut only chapter)
xxiv. one of me is cute, but two, though? ; not posted yet! (smut mostly chapter)
xxv. eternally yours ; not posted yet!
𓂃۶ৎ i'll do my best to update weekly TT if you have any insights regarding the story, let me know!! i'm used to oneshots, not series so it might seem kinda rushed but waaah bear w me... :3
𓂃۶ৎ i love you even though i'm not supposed to..!
𓂃۶ৎ taglist (open!) : @heartsteelkaynconsumer, @xxserenitysnow666xx, @11thlife02, @sugusmonkeyy, @gnabgumi, @sunehry
#jjk#jjk x reader#geto suguru#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#jjk imagines#jjk reader insert#jjk au#suguru geto smut#geto suguru x you#long fic#getou suguru x reader#jjk suguru#suguru smut#geto x reader#jjk geto#dihydromorphinone#jjk series
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Vergil and his s/o training together
Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!
Pairing: Vergil x Reader
Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.
Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.
Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.
Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD
“We’re done for today.”
Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.
“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”
“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.
“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”
“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.
“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.
“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.
It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.
A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.
Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.
You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.
He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.
And that was something you always proudly said you could do.
“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”
“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”
“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.
“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”
“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”
With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.
“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.
Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.
With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.
You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.
Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.
“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.
Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.
Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.
“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.
And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.
After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.
“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.
You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.
Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.
As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.
Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.
Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.
As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.
As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.
You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.
“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”
“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”
His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.
He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.
With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.
You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.
It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.
Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.
You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.
After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.
A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.
Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.
A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.
You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.
As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.
When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.
One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.
Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.
You had your guard down.
“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.
“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”
Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.
Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.
#devil may cry#devil may cry imagine#dmc#dmc imagine#vergil x reader#vergil imagine#devil may cry fanfiction#dmc fanfiction#dmc vergil#vergil sparda#I'm 99% sure sparring works as foreplay for Vergil when it's against his s/o#the other 1% is just actual training and focus#again no plot#only vibes#half of me is wanting to beat the shit out of him#and the other half is wanting to kiss the hell out of him#so why not both?
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