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elixirfromthestars · 1 month ago

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Sink Your Teeth In Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning(s): spooky fun vibes / smut / fluff / female reader / mutual pining / love bites / dirty talk / unprotected sex / pet names / 18+ mdni / sprinkles (who am I kidding it might be a little more than just sprinkles) of possessive Bucky / breast play / a tiny moment of drinking / smut with little plot

Prompt(s): human (vampire costume) / treat (fluff, smut) / neighbor / “Why are you looking at me like that?” + “Spread them. Further.” + “You’re pretty like that.” + “There you go. Doing so good for me.” ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

a/n: uhhhhh this is what happens when you let me write while on medication post surgery lol please ignore how late this is, your girl was going through it 😭 This is for @buck-star ‘s Trick or Treat fun 🎃🧡 Also based on this ask she sent me, so this is for you Sydney 🤭🧡. I hope you all enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ❤️🦇❤️

vampire divider ♡ // main masterlist ♡ // bucky masterlist ♡

You’ve heard all the superstitions about the full moon before. The way it seemingly makes people act strangely—far from themselves. The word lunatic and lunacy are tied to the moon as well, having been believed to incite mania in people. An unrecognizable version of themselves whose impulses bordered on primal. Tonight was no exception to such superstitions as the full moon hung high in the sky on Halloween. Promising to pull the sentiments from the deepest depths of each person out into the open.

However, in this instance, an argument could be made that the moon was not at fault for how your pulse quickened or how your heart hammered in your chest. No, not even if the moon’s glow reflected in Bucky’s eyes so beautifully that they resembled a pair of sapphires staring right back at you. Freezing you to your spot right outside his door.

The moon was also certainly not telling you to push Bucky into his home and crash your lips onto his until your lungs begged for air. No, oh no, that was all you.

“You here to drive a stake through my heart, doll?” Bucky’s playful tone broke you from your trance, biting his bottom lip as he held back a smug grin. A flicker of something bewitching crosses his eyes as they search yours for an answer.

You shifted on your feet, mortification prickling your skin as you collected yourself. “I might if you don’t keep those fangs to yourself,” you quip, tapping his chest with the fake wooden stake in your hand, trying to disperse the attention away from the way you had ogled Bucky. You wouldn’t say you had a thing for vampires, but his costume was giving him this mystic allure that was fueling an unspoken desire you had been harboring for him since you met half a year ago.

Bucky’s vampire costume was far from the cheesy kind you could find at any corner pop-up Halloween store—it was quite the opposite. Bucky dawned on a crisp white dress shirt underneath a black vest that wrapped around his torso—emphasizing his broad build. A few buttons on the shirt were undone, revealing just enough skin to make your eyes wander. His black trousers fit his legs as if they had been tailored perfectly to their length. His velvet cape was an onyx color with a deep crimson lining that swayed behind him at every movement. To top it off, a pair of fangs poked out from his smile that sent a shiver down your spine from their playful danger.

He certainly looked the part of a vampire—dreamily menacing in the best way.

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, his eyes glinting mischievously as he winks at you, “Don't worry, doll. I won’t bite unless you ask me nicely.” His words bore a hint of a promise that caused your heart to skip a beat. Flirting with him wasn’t unusual—you’ve been doing it since you became neighbors—despite that, tonight, it felt different.

You let out a sound between a snort and a laugh—pushing away the heat that wants to spark itself into a flame, “I’ll pass on the biting, thanks, but I would appreciate a drink before we head out.” Your words are punctuated with an expression he can never say no to.

When Bucky is met with your soft eyes and sweet smile, that appeals to him like no other—there’s no way he can say no. He opens the door wider for you to step inside, welcoming you into his home with a passing comment that he could use a drink too. You walk in with a familiarity as if the home were your own. Which—if you asked Bucky—it might as well be. You spend so much time here he’d go so far as to say this was more your place than his.

He didn’t mind that. On the contrary, this place hadn’t felt like home until you came into his life. Since you started coming around, these four walls transformed with your presence—traces of you woven into every corner. The stray hair ties that lay scattered throughout the rooms, a few of your sweaters in his closest in exchange for stealing some of his, the cat mug you claimed as yours, and your latest read left unfinished on his coffee table to be picked up and continued while he cooked dinner for you two on his nights off. All these little things and more made his house warmer, fuller, and undeniably a home. Turning this space into something he longed to come back to every night.

You close his front door and follow him to his kitchen, the butterflies in the pit of your stomach not going away. Not that they ever did in his presence, but on some days it was easier to ignore the fluttering.

Today would not be that kind of day.

He reaches up into his cupboards, taking out two crystal glasses while idly chatting about the Halloween party Sam was throwing. You weren’t listening, mind elsewhere as you attempted to distract the inappropriate thoughts away, simply watching as he promptly poured out two servings of wine. He handed one to you, his hand brushing against yours at the motion—sending a jolt of electricity through it. You grip the glass a little tighter than you should and hastily take a sip.

You would definitely need more than one drink.

“Are you even listening, doll?” Bucky was staring at you with an amused expression, wine glass hovering at his lips as he called out your inattentiveness. Your attention gets brought back to his mouth which no longer hosts the fake fangs. He had removed them so as to not stain them with the wine.

When had he done that? How long had the passage of time escaped you?

A warmth found its way to your face, trying to hide behind the crystal glass in your hand. Bucky knew you weren’t listening to him and his only theory as to why was clued in by the fact that your gaze continued to drift to his lips.

“Huh? Oh, I was—it’s just…” you trail off trying to find an excuse, but when you can’t find one—or at least one you can tell him—you concede. “Sorry, what did you say?” He leans against the counter at your question, a smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes darken ever so slightly, as he ponders how far he can take the flirting tonight.

“I said you look good, doll. I really like your costume,” he repeats his unheard compliment, shamelessly raking his eyes over your form. You gulp the rest of the wine in your cup—the spark of tension reigniting. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from how the black lacy gothic corset top hugged your breasts perfectly, and the matching leather pants clung to you like a second skin—leaving nothing to the imagination. And to Bucky’s added torture, you decided to strap a leather harness to your thighs that he had to resist the urge to grasp by the straps and pull you flush against his frame so you could feel how hard you made his—

Bucky stopped himself from letting his mind wander to places that would cause all of his blood to rush south.

You looked down at your costume, not thinking much of it when putting it together. When Bucky told you he was dressing up as a vampire you thought it would be fitting to dress up as a vampire hunter. You were on a budget though, so between your closet and thrifting you came up with the outfit you’re wearing now.

“Thanks, Bucky. You definitely did a better job though,” you compliment him, thinking that if anyone deserved praise for their costume—it was him. Bucky shakes his head, taking another sip of his wine, “Not me. Sam. He’s dressing up as a twenties mobster, so he let me borrow his costume from last year. Apparently, he goes all out every Halloween.”

“Does he? Can’t wait to see how the party turned out then,” you comment, your nerves over meeting his friends for the first time bubbling its way into your system. Bucky gives you a small smile, the sight easing your anxieties ever so slightly, “Speaking of which—we should probably head out now. The party starts soon and Sam’s due to blow up my phone any second now,” he grumbles, finishing off the rest of his wine. A single deep red droplet runs down the corner of his mouth. Your fingers itch to wipe it off, but instead his tongue darts out to catch it—licking his lips in the process. A soft intake of breath was heard from you, an instinctive response to what he had done. The subtle sound revealing more than words ever could.

There’s a shift in the air—it’s inevitable—you both feel it.

The space between you is now charged, the kitchen feeling smaller and yet the space between you two, too far apart. Bucky’s eyes shine with a gentle intensity as he saunters over to you. Delicately towing at the lines you both wish to cross tonight.

Your eyes search his for his intentions the closer he gets. Trying to decipher what you can as his left arm reaches out behind you to grab his keys—momentarily caging you. Your lower back presses against the counter, heart stuttering in your chest as the scent of cedar and spice from his cologne encases you.

“Yeah we should…” you swallow hard, voice barely audible as your eyes lock on his lips, the wine having stained them a deep crimson color. Resembling that of a vampire’s after they’ve feasted on the blood of another. A rich shiver makes its way down your spine—one he easily catches. This emboldens him, his own eyes travel down your face and then further down to observe the way your breasts strain against the corset.

Bucky was tempted to sink his teeth, and something else, into you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you found your voice somewhere between the longing that plagued you and the urge to pull him closer.

“Like what, doll?”

“Like you’re seconds away from changing everything between us.”

When those words leave your lips, Bucky knows there’s no point in denying it. “Maybe because I am,” he responds in a low murmur, before wasting not another second and crashing his lips against yours. His hands finding purchase at your hips and giving a light squeeze. Your lips part in a soft gasp at the sensation, his touch kindling the craving you’ve had for him from the moment you stepped foot into his house. Your hands find their way to his robe, the velvet soft underneath your fingertips as you pull him closer, wanting to leave no space for air between you.

Bucky’s on the verge of losing his mind with your body pressed so close to his. His tongue prods gently at your mouth seeking entrance—something you eagerly give. When your tongues tangle you let out a soft moan that teeters on a whimper and it stirs something deep in his gut. He so desperately wants to pull more sounds out of you, but he needs to know you want this as much as he does.

He pulls away from the kiss momentarily, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. Your hands relax and let go of his robe to rest against his chest instead. Savoring the way oxygen finds its way into your lungs again.

“Tell me to stop and I will…” Bucky swallows hard as he says this. His mind reeling as he tries to calm the tightness in his pants. You shake your head, “I won’t. I want this, Bucky. I want you,” to assure him of your words, you pull him in by the loops of his dress pants, rolling your hips slowly against his bulge causing him to hiss at the pleasure.

“Fuck, doll. The things you do to me.”

“Show me.”

Your plea makes Bucky throw all hesitation out the window. Grabbing onto the straps of the harness at your thighs to press you into him and grind against you—groaning at the friction. You reach up and card your fingers through his hair to pull him down for another searing kiss. Your mouths moving with a sense of urgency and purpose. Needing to make up for all those days you only let yourselves flirt and never truly gave in to what you really wanted.

The spark of desire bursts into embers as the intensity of the kisses increases—tongues dancing, teeth clashing, and your breaths entwined as you lose yourselves to the taste of one another. Every inch of your skin titilating in anticipation for Bucky’s touch. It’s evident you both need more, so Bucky snakes his hands down to cup your ass, hiking you up and around his waist to carry you over to the nearest surface.

“You’re. So. Goddamn. Beautiful,” Bucky punctuates every word with nips to your jawline as he places you on the granite island. Your fingers brush past the edge of something plastic as you steady yourself on the cool surface. Your eyes reflexively look over and see the fake fangs Bucky had on earlier. Your remember the way they looked on him and your mind wanders to what his own teeth can do.

“Bite me,” the words slip out before you register how demanding they may sound. A deep rumble resonates from Bucky as he laughs at the way you said it. He removes himself from your jawline to get a good look at you—his cock twitching at the sight of you.

Your chest heaved with exertion from all the air Bucky stole from you, your breasts threatening to spill out from your corset—lips swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. Knowing that this was your reaction to his kisses, to his touch, to him before you’ve even gotten to the main part—Bucky had to stop himself from coming undone then and there knowing he had such an effect on you.

“Didn’t I say you had to ask nicely, doll?” he mocks playfully, eliciting a needy whine from you. The sound goes straight to his dick as it painfully aches to be inside you. He doesn’t think he can hold out much longer, as much as he’s enjoying the kisses.

“Spread them. Further,” Bucky mutters the command into your lips, his hands sliding up your legs. You oblige his request, giving him more space to settle between your thighs. Your fingers thread through his hair as he trails open-mouthed kisses down to your pulse point—nipping and sucking hard enough to leave marks.

Bucky relishes in the soft whines and whimpers that leave you whenever he bites down just enough to hit the bliss point between pain and pleasure—soothing any remaining sting with his tongue. He catches the way your nipples harden underneath your corset—pressing against the fabric—making him crave a taste.

“Gonna mark you up pretty girl—everywhere,” the low murmur of a promise is sealed into your skin, teeth grazing your neck delicately as he holds off on marking you there for the time being. His fingers hastily unhook the clasps of your corset, your breasts spilling out. He cups them in his hands, kneading the soft flesh while you moan copiously. Bucky greedily swallows every single one.

His head dips down to pepper kisses across the valley of your breasts before dragging his tongue across one hardened nipple—teasing you as your breathing grew ragged. Your chest arches into him, moaning out his name as he moves to the other breast. Taking the unkissed bud into his mouth and sucking on it with a hunger that borders on savage.

“I know I said bite me, but watch those teeth.”

“I’ll be good, doll. I’ll be real good to you.”

He chuckles against your breast, causing delicious vibrations that send shivers down your spine. He moves over to the other nipple, giving it a playful nip that causes you to hiss out a watch it. He laughs again, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he continues to worship your breasts. The pleasure shoots straight to the throbbing between your legs, your underwear dampening.

Nimble fingers find their way to his dress shirt and vest where you do your best to unbutton as much as you can, needing to see and touch more of him. You run your fingers down the hard planes of his chest and abs—your touch leaving heat in its wake. Bucky continues to lavish attention to your sensitive buds, his lips swirling and sucking the peaks insatiably.

When his lungs burn for air he reluctantly releases your nipple with a wet pop—pulling away to see the evidence he’s left on your skin. “Mmm, you’re pretty like that doll—all marked up by me,” his fingers trailing and tracing over the marks he’s left on your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. His thumb brushing over them with feather-like touches as an almost affectionate gesture. Your body shudders at the possessive gleam in his eyes—one that only intensifies the more his gaze lingers on your skin.

You’ve never seen him look at you like this before—and you didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

“Bucky…please…I need more of you.”

“I know, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

As if the word baby wasn’t enough to have your heart leap out of your chest—Bucky’s fingers toying with the harness at your thighs, and the button of your pants certainly did. Swiftly, he proceeds to undo it all and the zipper. You eagerly help him slip it all off, and when his gaze meets the soaked front of your seamless cotton panties, a husky growl reverberates in his chest. His fingers hook at the edges while his teeth graze along the front of the fabric. The action takes your breath away, your heart racing a mile a minute. His hooded eyes bore into yours as he takes the fabric between his teeth and drags it down your body, baring your slick folds to him—he groans at the sight.

“Fuck, doll, so ready for me.”

Bucky takes your panties and pockets them. Just as you're about to give him shit for it, he springs up to kiss your lips fervently. Hands at your thighs massaging the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing ever so slightly where you need him most. All prior thoughts are forgotten as you reach for Bucky's belt, desperately removing all obstacles until you can easily slide your hand into his pants. You palm over the bulge in his boxers, stroking him through the fabric. Your eyes widen at the feel of his size causing him to grin at you wolfishly.

“Something the matter, doll?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Your confident tone provokes a deep rumble in Bucky’s throat. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, seeking more of your arousing touch. He pulls his pants and boxers down and off, freeing his cock. It springs forth, long and thick, the tip already glistening with precum. "Got me all worked up, baby. Just look at it—fuck," his voice is thick with lust, guiding your hand to wrap around his shaft. Your hand glides against him, causing him to let out a low grunt followed by the neediest moans. His nose brushes against yours as he tries not to entirely lose himself to the sheer pleasure that courses through him at your touch.

Almost desperately, he leans in to capture your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his hips rocking into your hand at the rhythm of your movements. His flesh hand grabs the back of your neck to keep you close as he devours you, while his metal one trails up between your thighs—the coolness teasing the delicate skin—contrasting the heat that builds with the kiss. You moan into it, reveling in the feel of Bucky’s length in your hand as you stroke him slowly, becoming familiar with it.

Bucky groans into your mouth, a resonant growl of pure want. His fingers go higher up your thighs until the cool metal grazes against your center, drawing out a whimper from you. Your thighs part further in response causing him to smirk against your lips. A smirk that falls into a ravenous hiss as his fingers brush your folds, the sick arousal coating them as he dips to circle your entrance teasingly—your hips bucking in response.

“Bucky…” his name falls from your mouth with a carnal yearning that snaps Bucky's control entirely. His hands grip your hips to pull you closer to him—balancing you on the edge of the counter. He takes hold of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance, the head brushing against your cunt. Your patience is nonexistent at this point.

“Bucky, if you tell me to ask nicely I swear to ah—” Bucky cuts off your whiny gripe with one swift thrust, burying himself inside you until he fills you completely. “What was that?” his cheeky question does little to hide he’s just as overwhelmed with how good it feels as you are. Yet, with the cockiest grin, he drinks up your hazy expression as you adjust to his thickness.

Something shifts inside him when you look at him with soft adoring eyes, filling his heart with a thing that can only be called love. It causes him to pepper kisses—gentle and tender—all over your face to help ease the achy stretch. You melt into them, so contrastingly soft to the prior ones that your heart does a little flip. The deeper feelings behind them not lost on you. Even more so when he whispers the sweetest words of devotion at every kiss. How beautiful you are, how good you feel, how good he wants to make you feel, how he’s dreamed of this, and so much more. All the meanwhile, his thumbs massage comforting circles into your hips.

“There you go. Doing so good for me, doll,” he praises you when he starts to feel your hips slowly move against him—pleasure replacing the ache. He reciprocates your desire, rocking into you slowly, letting you feel every inch until he goes as deep as possible once more—both of you calling out each other’s name by the time you’ve fully adjusted.

It’s like this at first—slow and deep—dragging out each thrust to savor the sensation of intimacy. Breathy kisses with exchanged whispers blend with one another, your hands wrapped around his shoulders to keep him close. Fingers gently tugging on his brown locks at the nape of his neck, which only serves to drive him crazier. Making it hard for him to keep his restraint in check.

“Been dying to have you, baby. Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans out, continuing to bury himself deep into your welcoming heat. But it’s not enough—not for either of you. Not when it does little to help fully unleash all the pent-up hunger that has built up over the course of months. You feel it in the way Bucky grips your hips tight enough to leave bruises to ground himself, and he can feel it in the way your legs wrap around his hips and lock behind him—pushing him in impossibly deeper.

One of you is bound to break soon—and it won’t be you.

You cup his face in your hands, eyes glazed over and needy as you tell him, “Bucky, don’t hold back. It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back,” you assure him, his pace faltering slightly. Bucky’s blue eyes search yours for a reason not to give in. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/n. I don’t know if I can trust myself,” the vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heartstrings, your thumbs gently caressing his face to soothe him. He instantly leans into your touch, the comfort it offers addicting.

You shake your head, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, “You won’t. I trust you, Bucky. I told you—I can handle it, baby—please, baby,” at the term of endearment the rope of restraint inside Bucky snaps. You had never called him baby before, but now that you had Bucky wanted to know what else he had to do—or not do—to keep making you call him baby like that.

“Keep calling me baby and you’ll get everything you want, beautiful,” Bucky nips at your bottom lip—eyes darkening—turning his pretty blues into a storm. One that’s ready to consume you. He grips your hips harder, picking up his pace until he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. You meet his powerful thrusts with equal fervor, a stream of curses and sobs of his name falling from your lips. The counter beneath you shakes and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to break it, but the worry washes away instantly as it feels too good to give a damn.

“Gonna keep marking you up, doll. Want everyone to see my pretty girl all marked up,” he growls, head dipping down to nip and suck on your neck. Bruising kisses strewn along the delicate skin of your collarbone until his teeth graze your shoulder. Your cunt throbs in time with the relentless onslaught of his cock—bodies synced in pure desire. Every touch, every thrust, every kiss, and every word is a brutal assault on your senses. All filled with his overwhelming want of you.

“Bucky, s-so good, please…” you plead breathlessly for who knows what. Mind fuzzy and gone, only focusing on the searing pleasure in your veins. Bucky lets out a deep chuckle, lips finding their way to yours, metal hand snaking to palm your breast while his other keeps a tight grip on your hips.“Atta girl—taking me so well,” he grunts out, cunt fluttering at his praise, causing him to let out a half moan half chuckle. You’re close to finishing and he can feel it.

“Cum for me, doll. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby,” Bucky commands, pounding into you with renewed vigor as he works to get you both to your releases. “Baby…I’m gonna…I’m close,” you whimper out and Bucky's response to you is immediate, his hips snapping forward even faster, harder. His metal hand lowers between your legs to apply pressure and circles to your clit. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the kitchen—the room forevermore ingrained with the actions of tonight.

Your body bows off the counter as you scream out his name, your orgasm crashing over you with a hot intensity. Bucky keeps you close and steady, your inner muscles clamping around him like a vice—triggering his climax. Bucky lets out a guttural growl of your name, biting down on your shoulder as his release pours out, burying himself to the hilt as he fills you. The intense contractions milking his shaft for all he’s worth.

You collapse back onto the counter, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath—body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky shudders from the force of his climax, cock twitching and pulsing as the last of his cum drips out. His upper body collapses on top of you, holding you close as his face buries into the crook of your neck, both of you trembling with the aftermath of your coupling. He trails loving kisses from your neck to your shoulder, not wanting to be apart from you.

“You did so good, doll—my doll,” he mutters into your shoulder, kissing the area he had previously bitten, nuzzling the marks he left. You can only muster a breathless whimper as he gradually pulls out of you, your combined arousal spreading along the inner skin of your thighs and down onto the counter. He raises his head just enough to admire his handiwork—you, flushed and disheveled, with multiple bite marks and hickeys proudly displayed across your skin.

"I could get used to this—seeing you like this," Bucky says with a satisfied smirk, his gaze roaming over your figure appreciatively. You let out a breathless laugh, “Yeah? I think I could too, baby…” You can feel the way his cock threatens to harden again, the look in his eyes warning you to not push it. He lowers his mouth onto yours again in a hopeless attempt to silence you.

“Doll, you can’t say it like that. I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“What about the party, baby?”

That about does it for Bucky.

“Screw the party. I’d rather show my pretty girl, my baby—a good time here,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath hot and uneven as he picks you up from the counter. You giggle out a gasp as he carries you over to his bedroom where he does indeed show you a good time—a great time, in fact, all night long.

Happy Halloween to you.

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trendywaifus · 3 months ago

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Okay,how Nicole demara with an S/O that loves taking care of her and helping her out with her business.

i’ll make this a hc!

— getting spoiled by you is an experience she grew to absolutely adore (she won’t admit that).

she’s looking at her nails, grumbling about how it’s time to get it done. the polish is peeling from her nails and it’s starting to annoy her. you gently grab her hand, bringing it up to your lips to kiss the pad of her fingers. nicole’s already red, pink lips parted with surprise as she verbally questions what you’re doing.

“ do you want me to pay for them, nicole? we can get them done today. “ you offer, kissing her pointed finger one more time before letting them go. secretly over the moon by your gesture, she shyly averts her lowered gaze to somewhere else that isn’t you.

“ y-yes, i would like to, (name). “ she trails off, stifling back a dopey smile on her face. she’s def gonna brag and show off later.

— when it comes to doing little side gigs like selling drinks, food, or whatever, you’re the one who’s prepping the items. nicole’s the one setting the prices. nekomata, and the other two are either doing their own thing or helping out in some way. for some reason, you sell the most between you and nicole and it annoys her. it annoys her because you’re very easy on the eyes, so people are naturally drawn to you and find the need to flirt with you while you’re trying to do business. you’re hers, damnit. does she have to stand by you so those pesky people can stop the funny business, buy her stuff, and go?

“ meow, it seems like they’re at it again.” nekomata comments, looking at the growing line of people waiting to buy a popsicle from you. nicole merely grumbles, quietly watching everything from afar as you politely hand the two women cold treats.

“ oh before we go, you have such a beautiful smile. are you single? “

“ no, i’m not. sorry. “

“ aw, well i hope to see you around, cutie! “

nicole’s brows twitch.

you wave goodbye at the two women before welcoming a group of men. one of the men shoves a guy from the back to the front, appearing awkward and fidgety. “ erm, can we all get a popsicle? is there a deal going on? “

“ mhm, since there’s like 5 of you. 5 for 10$. “

“ damn. 5 for 10$? “

“ u-um, i’ll take it, “ he stutters, digging in his beach short’s pocket for his wallet. he hands you a ten dollar bill and you give him the pack of popsicles.

“ al-also, i’ve been watching you—not like a stalker or anything! but like—“

“ meow? you totally sound like a stalker.” nekomata remarks, hearing the conversation closely. “ what? nekomata! what are they saying other there? i can hardly hear anything because of these damn seagulls!” nicole snarls, adjusting the visor on her head to block off the sun from her eyes.

“ the guy is hitting on (name), but, he’s. . not scoring. “

“ good! (name)’s is my partner, anyways! they better go search somewhere far away to find someone perfect like them, hmph! “

— i can imagine you and nicole being the best duo when it comes to collecting money from scamming clients.

the four, beaten up men kneels in fear as you tower over them with a smug smirk on your face.

“ so boys, “ nicole comes up behind you and rest a hand on your shoulder with her other hand on her hips, “ we now have an understanding, right? “

“ y-yes—yes! we do! please, no more! “ one of the men begged, clasping his hands together desperately.

“ good~ make sure you pony up the cash by tomorrow or we’ll make sure you won’t be able to piss straight for a month. “ nicole threatens, smirking menacingly at the men. they all let out noises of fear and nervously bobbed their heads.

with an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, you add on, “ you better listen to my girl, or i’ll make it two months for your goofy asses. “

#nicole demara x reader #zzz women x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader

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ooffies · 2 years ago

Note

Could I request headcanons of Jamil and Vil walking in on their female s/o bragging about them to the first years?

: I had so much fun writing this! Thank you for the request anon! Sorry for long wait I had mid-terms 😭. Also I added all the blot-buddies(?) because I felt inspired, I hope you don't mind! Hope you enjoy them!

❥─➤ Jamil, Vil, Leona, Malleus, Azul, Idia and Riddle x reader (separate)

❥─➤ warnings: none!

Jamil Viper (flustered)

He’s never been this flustered before, like ever. He hears Kalim sing him praise for his talents all the time but that only makes him feel slightly annoyed. But hearing you talking so highly about him? His heart feels like it’s about to break out of his chest. He’s blushing from ear to ear for the rest of the day. Makes sure to invite you over once classes are done. He wants to express his gratitude to you and show how much he cares for you.

Vil Schoenheit (proud/flattered)

Of course, you're bragging about him, who wouldn’t? He’s used to people singing him praise and boasting about his talent and beauty. But never has he felt so giddy from hearing someone talk about him. he’s got butterflies in his stomach hearing you talk so highly of him to your peers. He’s got a smile stuck on his face for the rest of day. Next time the two of you hang out he makes sure to pamper you with compliments and kisses.

Leona Kingscholar (smug)

He’s already got a shit-eating smirk on his face as soon as he overhears you. His herbivore singing him praise is a massive boost to his ego. He’s attached to your hip for the rest of your day. He’ll try to get you to skip class to be with him. He’ll have his tail lightly wrapped around your thigh or hand, letting everyone know for the millionth time you're his. It’s kind of his own way of bragging about you.

Malleus Draconia (falls in love all over again)

He practically falls in love with you all over again anytime he hears you speak a single good word about him. He’s all over you for the rest of the day, giving you as much affection as possible. He’s trying so hard to hide the fact that he overheard your bragging but after five minutes of being with this overjoyed man it’s pretty obvious what happened.

Azul Ashengrotto (blushing mess #1)

Acts all smug when he confronts you and the freshmen but once they leave he’s blushing from head to toe. He can barely form a sentence as he tries to give thanks to you for being such a great partner. But he can’t help but ask if you actually think that highly of him. Once you reassure him he’ll become a blushing mess all over again. Will treat you to a special dinner at lounge that night to make sure you know how thankful he is to be yours.

Idia Shroud (over the moon)

On the outside he was an absolute embarrassed wreck after hearing you brag about him to Ace and Deuce. But on the inside he’s kicking his feet and giggling. His s/o bragging about him? Him out all people? God he doesn’t deserve you. He’ll make sure to show you more affection than he usually does next time you come over.

Riddle Rosehearts (blushing mess #2)

Bright burning red as he scolds you and the Heartslabyul duo for “loitering around”. It’s very easy to tell that he’s flustered from overhearing your high praises of him. He drags you away for the troublesome duo, ranting about various things. Once you two are alone he thanks you for the kind words while still being as red as a rose.

Please do not repost or translate my work without permission and credit. Thank you!

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months ago

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With all the bs and teasing being thrown around this doesn't seem like a fight that would end in Macaque's Death but rather Mac being unintentionally flattered/flustered enough to be talked down if Wukong decides to turn the tables and start complaining about missining him only for macaque to show up and be a little shit about it. I love that the pokemon that looks most like the other is their most spoilt on the team. You didn't say it, but I imagine it's mutual. Peachy is a beloved brat if the back talk implies anything. I can also imagine Macaque trying to call Moon back and the fox is just like "No??? This guy treats me the way you treat peachy! It's pretty sweet over here!" Wukong sees the out of place fox in Mac's arms and looks up at him smug "Peachy?" "No." "You call him Peachy, Moonflower?" "Irrelevant!" "Hey, Peachy, you don't mind if we switch places for a bit, do you?" "Not at all, mama needs to get laid" *tries to jump out of Mac's arms but he scrambles and holds on tighter like he's a shield from the sudden flirting, stuffed animal style* "OH my gods, STAHP!!!!"

Zhu bajie, for once, is happy to watch silently with the others, this is the best(non-life threatening) entertainment they've had in months. Even if he wants to laugh and cry at the same time, Big Brother sucks at flirting if this is as familiar to them as it looks, but it's WORKING. Why does Monkey get to (terribly)flirt, but Bajie had to give up his marriage?! That's not fair!

- @fruit-fight

Prev.

To further twist the knife, Zorua canonically transform into little kids, so they 100% could turn into little humanoid demons like they're the Shadowpeach's children.

The two Zorua kits are yipping at each other like siblings playing favourites. Moon likes Wukong more cus he's more understanding of Moon's quieter nature, and Peachy likes Macaque more cus fellow drama queens.

Peachy: "Mama Macaque likes me more!" Moon: "Only because you're a suck up!" Peachy: "I am not! Mama! He's being mean to me! MAMAAAA!!" Macaque, pretending he can't understand them: "How did I get into this?" (´°ω°`)

When Zhu Bajie starts complaining about Wukong getting to flirt, his Oinkologne-mom starts arguing at him, scolding him for his behaviour! Can't he see that these two boys are rekindling an old romance? Bajie sulks like a little kid sent into timeout when he tries back-talking her.

By the end of it Wukong and Macaque are begrudgingly on good terms like parents splitting custody of their fox children.

#sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #lmk zhu bajie #pokemon #crossovers #lmk aus #jttw aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #journey to the west #jttw

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bedoballoons · 11 months ago

Text

Please!! I wanted to do more so badly because not having the full spectrum of fairies was killing me!! So thank you for this request and I hope you enjoy!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Wink Part 2~༺}

CW: Fluffy except for the tiniest bit of angst in Dilucs! I used the rest of the fairy types I knew for this part!! Also I know the light fairy technically counts as sun and moon, but I wanted one more character so moons a separate fairy type in this 😭

First part

(Includes: Diluc, Kaveh, Heizou,and Wriothesley!)

𑁍༄Diluc: <Fire fairy>

You stared into the fireplace, your wings almost glowing in the flickering light...the flames had always captured your attention, made you feel warm and safe...but even they couldn't calm your racing heart. Your bravery had finally showed it's full force...your once hidden identity now in plain sight for the man you loved. Wether he accepted this version of you or not was purely up to fate...

"Diluc..." You felt your voice crack in fear, you were so vulnerable right now, something you weren't very often and he usually wasn't either, one of the reasons you got along so well..or used to if this ended the way you wished it never would.

"I'm not upset, or mad. I'm not even that surprised...I've seen lots of unexplainable things and I've always figured there were creatures no one new about, but I am worried. I care about you alot, I care about your safety and I don't want to see others coming after you for being something they want to learn more about...so regrettably, I'm going to ask you to keep this secret from everyone else."

He took your hand in his as you nodded, what he said was reasonable and you weren't really worried about keeping the secret from everyone else, as long as he knew the real you...that's all that mattered.

𑁍༄Kaveh: <Animal fairy>

"I'm speechless.." Kaveh sat in front of you, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with shock...you were surrounded by over a hundred animals, but that wasn't even the craziest part. You'd sprouted wings, full blown, glittery, shiny wings...and honestly they were so beautiful he was getting inspired to sketch a new window design from the sparkle alone. How could he even accept this reality though...that you were a fairy...with actual powers and everything??

"It's really not that bad is it..." You moved so you were sitting next to him...birds leaping from your shoulder to his and furry creatures like red pandas and baby boars taking place in your laps. You were scared of what he might think but you couldn't keep the secret any longer. How could you...he was the man you loved.

"It's not bad at all...it's actually really beautiful, you're beautiful and though this is alot for me to handle, I love you the same as I did when I didn't know....does this mean we can have extra pets around the house?" He tapped the boars snout, earning a little squeak that made him chuckle,...of all the ways you'd expected him to react...this was better.

"Yes! We can even have crystal flies take shelter in our house when it rains and the Aranaras-"

"Wait- Those are real too??"

𑁍༄Heizou: <Technology fairy>

Heizou had a smirk on his face and honestly it was leaving you more than confused..why was he so smug? You'd only shown him your wings and told him what you were... certainly he hadn't...figured it out.. "You're not surprised at all?"

"I apologize if you wanted me to be, but being in a relationship with a detective comes with it's price. I knew something was different about you the second we met...your ability to build certain machines...how ones would suddenly work or not work whenever you were around. You had a special connection to them...and pair that with the few times I've mentioned fairies. You'd always comment about how I was wrong, they didn't act the same way fairytales portrayed them. How could you know unless..."

"Unless I was one.." You looked away, feeling slightly silly for making such a big deal of it..., "You never treated me any differently...even after you'd figured it out."

"I never would. I love you. Wings won't change that."

𑁍༄Wriothesley: <Moon fairy>

You sat in front of the large thick glass window...the moon a blur shining on your wings, making the rest of the room appear dull as your legs dangled from the viewing railing. It wasn't often you saw this place empty...it was almost eery, showing your secret after being in hiding for so long..., "You too me your secret....and now I've told you mine...so what do you think Wrio.."

He was leaning against the wall, the darkness of the room almost leaving him completely out of view, you couldn't even read his expression if you tried. "I think...my secret wasn't nearly as good as yours." He pushed off the wall and walked slowly towards you...his hand reaching out to touch your face, "I think,..you thinking I wouldn't like this version of you was the worst guess of the century. Seeing what I do everyday, I didn't think magic existed anymore...you've proved me wrong."

"Wrio..." You smiled softly and leaned down to kiss him, feeling like you could float away. Nothing was hidden between the two of you anymore...his past was his past and you were you and the two of you...were happy and free.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

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thegreengnome · 1 year ago

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Helaena targaryen x male uncle targaryen reader. Instead of marrying Aegon she marries the reader and they have children jaehaerys, jaehaera and maelor (let's imagine they are not from Aegon)

Fandom – House of the Dragon

Word Count -1080

Pairing – Helaena Targaryen X Taelor Targaryen (OC)

Warnings – N/A

Taelor Targaryen is the surprise third child of Prince Baelon. After the death of his first and only true wife, Baelon fell into a depression – his true love was dead – how was he meant to continue without her? He needed comfort and who better to comfort the distraught prince than a Lannister. A cunning and seductive Lannister, who now had a seed planted in her belly.

Honor demanded the two wed much to the satisfaction of the Lannister house. Not eight moons later a son was born to the pair. The smug lady Lannister had succumbed to the birthing bed like so many before her, this left a newborn baby in the arms of an emotionless prince.

The most humane thing the gods had ever done for the young prince was to kill his father. While a great parent and role model to his older sons, to Taelor he was cruel and often expressed disgust at the child that had not come from Alyssa. Perhaps he felt guilt over fathering him.

This passing left the young boy in the care of his eldest brother and his family. Raised alongside his much younger niece and nephews.

Due to being several years older then said nephews and niece Taelor adopted a leadership role. He was their protector and he took this job very seriously.

Which is why she was finding it difficult to remain still as the maester stitched up the open wound that once held Aemonds vibrant purple eye. The grip on the back of Taelor’s tunic kept him stable and grounded. Reaching back, Taelor made sure that Helaena was hidden from the view of the crowd around them.

They were Targaryen’s- the greatest power in all of Westeros – a family. So why were they constantly fighting.

His half-brothers only cared for Rhaenyra, all the love they possessed in there boy was given to one instead of spread out too many. Viserys younger children left behind in the wake of their much-loved older sister. Taelor knew from experience how hurtful parental neglect was, so he vowed to be everything his brothers were not. He would show his younger family members the loved that they deserved.

Xxx

When the inevitable search for a spouse for Taelor began, he sat through countless small council meetings his brother and eldest niece throwing potential brides at him.

He was a Targaryen; he would not settle for someone beneath him. So, he went to the queen.

The solar was quiet as both waited for the other to talk. The two had a complicated relationship – still a child herself Alicent was given the task of raising not only her own children but Taelor as well.

“We both know your father wants Aegon on the phone”

Alicent remained calm, sipping her warming tea, her ringed fingers clutching the delicate porcelain.

“I am also aware of your plans to marry him to Helaena” the tea made its way down. The queen’s sole attention on her charge.

“I think it is a foolish decision. To marry two possible heirs to the throne to one another instead of gaining outside alliances”

Humming Alicent seems amused. Of course, she had no desire to wed her children together but her father always got what he wanted. “And who do you suggest?”

“Me” not many things can surprise the queen but it had seemed her ward had achieved this great feat.

“You?” Taelor had always been good to her children and as much as it pained the queen to admit her eldest son was not the ideal candidate to marry her sweet and dream like daughter.

“Why? What would you gain?” everyone had their own plan to win the game- what was Taelor’s?

“A loving wife. No one knows Hel like I do. Aegon would not treat her with the respect she deserves. We both know this to be true”

“Marrying us would guarantee the loyalty of the Lannister’s who have historically been fickle”

Mulling the offer over Alicent asks the question that her father would be desperate to know “and what of your stance to the throne?”

“The throne is of no consequence to me. Whoever sists the throne, it is all the same. I will support Helaena in everything that she does and if that includes helping her brother then so be it”

Xxx

They wed two moons after Helaena turns sixteen, enough time for the couple to prepare for the union. The wedding itself was a small affair, much to the chagrin of the Queen. Knowing how uncomfortable his lady could get around crowds, he insisted on a small ceremony. An idea which gifted him the reward of a shy smile from his soon to be wife.

Helaena looked radiant as she walked towards Taelor to be cloaked. Her dress a hightower green, with white glittering gems encrusted through the bodice. Her hair braided intricately with a silver butterfly pin bringing the look together. The maiden’s cloak was a work of art, well in Taelor’s humble opinion. It perfectly showed who Helaena was. Dreamfyre imagery throughout with a scattering of spiders for good measure. The cloak made as her wedded one held much the same art as the maiden one but with the added image of Taelor’s dragon curled around dreamfyre.

Xxx

Not even three moons later the couple were blessed with good news. A babe was in the princess’s stomach.

That one babe turned out to be two and Prince Jaehaerys and Princesses Jaehaera was born. Throughout the labour Taelor remained at Helaena side. Ignoring the disapproving looks from the maester and the Queen. He swept sweety hair from her face and whispered words of love and encouragement into her ears. Because that was what their relationship was now- love

The babes were only hours old yet they already had their parents wrapped around their tiny fingers.

Xxx

The twins grew fast – too fast for there fathers liking. They brought joy to everyone in the keep, even their uncle Aemond was seen to crack a smile in their presence.

And soon the twins were joined by a younger brother Maelor. The spitting image of his mother, with wide eyes and that curious expression.

The family of five was happy and content. The married couple were often found in the company of one another with their kids following like small ducklings.

Despite this happiness, Taelor was always ready. He knew that when his eldest brother finally passes the dance would begin.

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd fanfic #helaena imagine #helaena fic #helaena x reader #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen

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genshxn · 1 year ago

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Hii!! I saw your requests are temp open for small requests! Can I request the alphabet game for Scaramouche/Wanderer? With the letters X, O, A? Thank you so much!!

ay btw they’re still open for now :]

here’s the big ole list (be warned some of the stuff might not be too good lol)

x —

(i.e. how he smooch)

this one’s highly dependent on his emotional state and how flustered he is, as well as the stage the relationship is at. i still stand by the headcanon that if he gets too wound-up, he’ll just buffer and be unable to respond (also running the risk of him crashing). so if you manage to successfully catch him off-guard with a kiss (good luck), then his internal processing will tank.

if you’re especially new into the relationship and you have the confidence to do that, there’s a non-zero chance you will have to reboot him. if he was feeling brave, then he’d try and return it another time, if not right away. the whole process involves a lot of blushing and notably quick pecks, more than anything.

once you’re well into the relationship, however, then you get to see a whole new side of him. every time he’d kiss you, you could feel him brimming with confidence—in himself and your love for him. he knew you liked it, especially when he’d have a hand elsewhere on you to draw you closer to him. if he gets jealous somehow, you might find yourself starved of breath while he holds you against his lips for longer than normal. just a reminder that you’re his and he’s yours <3

o —

(i.e. how official is it?)

oh, it’s official, but scaramouche is not the type to tell people about your relationship. simply because he doesn’t see the need in doing so, and neither do you. he will mention it to people he trusts (of which are few and far between), but he treats it like it’s common knowledge. for example, he might’ve been talking to nahida about a particular dish she mentioned. “ah yes, i tried to feed it to (y/n), but then they got too embarrassed when i was doing it which ended in them spilling it all over themself. so yeah, it’s messy.”

nahida then just looked at him like ಠ_ಠ, to which he was like “oh yeah, we’re dating btw. have been for over a year now.” and thus proceeded the nahida inquisition about the relationship. he was sparse on the details, as per your agreement. but more than happy to (smugly) divulge the details that left nahida with the seed of a love for gossip.

someone could watch you two for long enough and figure out you’re in a relationship with how much casual contact scaramouche makes, like resting his chin on your shoulder (his favourite), leaning on you, or simply having your hands atop each others when you sit together. you both agreed you wouldn’t talk about it much, but if people know, then they know. there’s no need for lies when you can simply obfuscate the truth.

a —

(i.e. how awkward can it get?)

at the beginning, you two were like middle schoolers with helpless crushes on each other, despite being an official pair, if only by the moon’s witness. so yes, there was a lot of awkwardness you both had to get over. he was probably the worse offender in that he’d get worked up over the smallest signs of affection you showed, still unable to believe that you not only liked him back, but wanted to also be with him. stammering mess solely by holding hands.

however, that was all before he had the confidence to apply his usual almost-smug demeanour to the relationship. once he got to that stage, it was all over for you. incessant flirting, surprise displays of affection, risqué whispers in public—you were going to blow up every single time. he loved your reactions. cute, he’d call them. it took a long time to work up your own confidence to be able to return what he gave.

and boy, can he sometimes not receive what he dishes out. once you started returning his words and actions, sometimes even springing them on him unprompted, it was like he was back to where he started: cherry-red faces, unintelligible stammering and overheating processors. he still has his moments where he has to recuperate before he can continue the line of teasing and flirting. just remember to have some concept of a stop-button before you try and force the other into red-faced submission.

#i underestimate how much i can ramble lol #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #fluff alphabet

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rotting-ink · 5 months ago

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This ask is a bit different from the “wanting kids” one. What about a surprise pregnancy for the ROs? (For the ones who can’t, let’s say magic was involved).

~ 🦇

L Rawlins: Quietly over the moon. Wants your confirmation that you wanna keep it before allowing them to grow attached to the tiny bump. Talks to it, cares for you, protectiveness goes up a thousand percent more. Loves them already so so much. Does get out their own kid's old stuff and dusts it off and is quietly so excited. You can tell by their tail in wolf form and by their pleased little smile in human form.

S Della Rovere- ASTOUNDED. "babe, im dead. not supposed to have any working bits." also scared shitless. they're not built for taking care of tiny things like a baby. Needs a pep talk and then they're in. Starts immediately baby proofing a section of the manor. "Babe, they get three whole rooms to tumble around in, i refuse to alter our horny rooms."

Z Chambers- Horrified. "But... What will it be? I'm a reaper, i'm a specter... What if it comes out as some sort of ghoul?" Demands excessive checks on it from Starling before they relax. Yes, it has a heartbeat, yes, it's growing well. Yes, Starling doesn't think that it's some sort of undead abomination. Then they're in awe. Whispers to it. So happy.

V De Winters- Terrified. Will not listen to you. Starts setting up a new apartment for you to stay in, close to their home, organises private doctor visits, lots of baby clothes but you won't see a lot of them. They're too busy. You need to flag them down and sit by them and hold them. You need to confirm that you'll be okay, the child is okay, and they'll be okay. V will have to cry a lot for a while and then they suit up. Quietly pleased. Gets to set up an account just for baby money so you can spend things on the lil one too.

Seir-"... Ehe." Smug. You're riddled with their demon spawn and they cannot WAIT for the thing to pop out and help bring around the end of the world bit by bit. But for now, they're curled up like a happy cat around you, purring away and nuzzling at you in their human form.

Saleos- Oh fuck yeah, their dominion needed an heir. Pampers you, treating you with a decree of pleased adoration. Their spawn is on the way, you're an excellent parent to share your genetics with it, their dominion is safe, Seir is seething and they get to bind you forever to them. Wonderful.

Starling Knight- Another grey hair sprouts. Head in hands. Does asks you what you want to do. Then they take a shot of whiskey and gets to work. Flatly cuts half their time at whichever of their jobs pays worse, so they can start prepping their tiny house, or prepping your cottage. Fine with splitting their time between their own house and yours, unless you want to move in together. Works out what you gotta be eating and your resting time. Becomes a helicopter parent early but only for the pregnancy. Is soft tho. You can see it in the way they quietly makes plans for you three to visit Egypt for a long while as they fully believe their childhood was made better for being there. That and getting out some of their old childhood things.

A Lancaster- Worried. They're in the hunter, they're not supposed to have kids or long standing romances, etc. Would either quit the hunters or pay for you to follow them back to head quarters and sequester you in the city. But if you lean on them, they'd quit and stay in South Hollow with you. They become saddened but after a week or two, they snap into parental mode, throwing them into this new life long endeavor to look after you and their child.

E Rawlins- INSANELY HAPPY. RUNS IN A CIRCLE AROUND YOU, PANTING AND WIGGLING. SO EXICTED. Finally would let L back in their life full time, they're not afraid of you being stolen away. Waits on you hand and foot, already so excited. Also hornier than ever.

Quincy Beaumont- Struck dumb for a moment. "... R... Really? Huh." Shocked, didn't think they'd be able to have kids. Is at a cross roads. They want to still do their work but the tour would take them away from you. Wants you to move to Kaer Llundain, they prefer the city and they have a larger home there! Also, needs an actual support system as they dont believe they won't be a good parent. If you insist on staying in South Hollow, they'd struggle a bit more. Needs a lot of talks between you two. But reassures you of them staying with you by coming by, holding very pretty little baby outfits to give you to you.

D Woolf- Might pass out. Are you kidding them? They... They.... They... They need a long sit down. A tea. No, a coffee. No, a brandy. No, a hug. They will need a long moment, head in hands. They're happy! Just stunned! Can they be a parent? A good parent? What do they do? Needs to go to A and Z and Starling and ask for tips, fidgeting all the way. Does start getting books they want to start reading to the tiny bump that is the baby already. They're never too young to hear about Heidi! He loves Heidi. Does reread Der Struwwelpeter, decides its way too scary for your baby bump and hides it away. Seir fuckin finds it so cool though.

#rottedinkspills #ask #the rot of witchwood #just love interest things #l rawlins #seir the familiar #v de winters #s della rovere #z chambers #saleos #a lancaster #starling knight #e rawlins #quincy beaumont #d woolf

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elucienweekofficial · 6 months ago

Text

Elucien Fanfic Crossword Answer Key- One Shots

How did you do? It's our hope through this week of puzzles that folks are able to find an existing fanfiction that speaks to them! Consider these a small masterlist filled with recommendations from the community itself. Below you'll find every fanfiction recommended attached to the author who created it, added in the order they were submitted! Fics were also categorized to their best of our ability. Check them out below!

Heading Straight to You by @lucienarcheron

Inspired by a tumblr post I've also linked below: "I need elain to have her anthony bridgerton moment where lucien asks if she wants him to sever the bond and leave & she goes “do you think there’s a corner on this earth that you could travel to far enough to free me from this torment? you are the bane of my existence. and the object of all my desires."

So I decided to give elucien their own bridgerton moment :) Enjoy!

Hot and Clumsy by @witch-and-her-witcher

Feyre had warned him against falling into bed with her sister - but why hadn't she warned Lucien against the greater threat?

Of falling deeply, madly, inconceivably in love with Elain Archeron.

Lucien catches feelings bad in the yoga studio.

full moon, white honey by @shardminds

The worn parchment that had once held a recipe lay untouched in her quarters. She no longer needed it. Celandine, White Myrtle, Brain of a Drowner. Crush, Boil with Spirit, Bottle once cooled. Thirteen words seared into her bones. For the Witcher who too often showed her his.

all is for love, is for mind by @shardminds

Lulled by the song of the wind as it called through the valley, Elain watched the clouds form impossible shapes, carried on the same breeze that cooled her heated skin, and asked the only question she had left.

“What does love feel like?”

Letters by @nocasdatsgay

Lucien takes the brunt of Koschei’s curse and using her powers Elain sees the key to saving him is somewhere in the stack of letters he’s sent her over the years.

Hover Corte by. @areyoudreaminof

On her own self-imposed exile, Elain finds herself in the human lands to offer help to the Band of Exiles and try to make some progress with her estranged mate. Lucien, meanwhile, can’t quite find his footing with Elain. With the clock ticking, can they finally come to an understanding?

This Time, I'm Ready by @lucienarcheron

Inspired by Long Story Short by TS. I was listening to it randomly and a scene of Elain started playing out in my head. Recommend listening to it while reading :)

A Heartbreak in Mid-December by @climbthemountain2020

Lucien gets rip-roaring drunk after yet another failure of a Solstice and spends some time reflecting on the events that led him here. He decides that perhaps it's time to let go of the bond once and for all.

ClimbTheMountain2020 couldn't stop picturing Elucien scenarios while listening to Neck Deep.

A Cut Above The Rest by @crazy-ache

“Wait!” Elain clambered to her feet, jumping off the bed. He looked at her expectedly, dagger in one hand and a handful of hair in the other. What was there to say? That she had always secretly adored his hair just the way it was? That he couldn’t possibly cut it before she even had the chance to run her fingers through it? “Let me do it,” she said.

While on the run in the Continent, Elain and Lucien must discuss what has remained unspoken after a frightening incident.

Desperately Waiting by shipatfirstsight

She tries not to think about Lucien

And now good-morrow to our waking souls by zipadeea

“Good morrow to you, little Lucien,” Rhysand crooned as he stepped forth from the shadowy ether, watching Lucien stand slowly and brush the grass from his trousers. “Here to treat with me again regarding my bargain with Feyre darling?”

Lucien took a deep breath, willing the need to punch the smirk off Rhysand’s smug face out of his body.

“No. Well,” Lucien said thoughtfully. “Yes. I suppose. I want you to keep her. Don’t bring Feyre back at the end of the week. Keep her in the Night Court.”

***

Lucien tries to save the three Archeron sisters. He fails.

Cinnamon and Honey by @velidewrites

Lucien has long given up on his crush on Elain Archeron — until she drops by his flower shop to return a bouquet from her now ex-boyfriend.

I Can't Help Myself From Looking At You by @tuzna-pesma-snova

Years have passed since Elain had last seen Lucien and since she had broken the bond. But once all High Lords get invited to Nyx's 18th birthday party their encounter is inevitable. Will this encounter change everything or not?

Rita's Shenanigans by @vulpes-fennec

Hoping to break the ice with her mate, Elain enlists her family’s help in setting up a night out at Rita’s. A post-ACOSF, Modern AU (with Fae lore).

Troublesome Child by NovaComette

Rhysand and Feyre left for the day and it's up to Elain and Lucien to take care of Nyx. And what hell of a day they'll have to deal with.

Help! I'm Fainting by @sunshinebingo

“I need a healer,” Elain loudly exclaimed. “What!?” Lucien pulled his chair back in a panicked state. Was she sick? What was – Elain reached him before he could stand and oh so gently dropped herself on his lap with a breathless, “Help! I’m fainting.”

...

When his mate barged into his office claiming to be sick, Lucien had to find out what she had and how to take care of her.

bet on me by @crazy-ache

Elain is caught sulking at her sister's mating ceremony. Lucien wagers a drinking game to prove who knows the other best.

“Go on. Tell me all about myself, Lucien Vanserra.”

And there is the matter of something charged sitting between them at the table. He was challenging her. An invitation for friction, a consideration to be included in the joke, a bid to entwine in something deliciously improper. Elain could not remember the last time anyone had offered her anything remotely tantalizing.

Inspiration by @lucienarcheron

Prompt: Modern AU | Aspiring writer Elain Archeron is looking for some inspiration for her new novel when she happens to meet the perfect man for the job.

Forget Me Not by @lucienarcheron

Drunk Elain and her shenanigans.

in eternal bloom by @crazy-ache

On the quest to find the sixth mortal queen, Lucien Vanserra meets a human with brown eyes and that same stubborn Archeron nose. Together, on their search for Vassa, Lucien befriends Elain’s father, and learns a bit more about his mate.

I Like You by @fieldofdaisiies

Elain decides that she is ready to make a move towards Lucien. And yes, it is a bit sad.

Speak Now by @separatist-apologist

I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. But you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don't touch) by @belabellissima

But in the end, it didn’t matter what Elain did to protect the puzzle - three pieces had been missing right from the start. They would never fall into place. Elain felt like that puzzle every time she saw Lucien, every time Feyre brought up his name, tried to push Elain into accepting him. She could see the image, see the outcome in her mind - the perfect life, the love, the children, the years together - but she wasn’t whole. She was lacking those pieces - the one thing that would make her the full image of a perfect, doting wife.

Or: The author saying ace!Elain rights.

Metamorphosis by @starry-mantle

How a butterfly and some reference books lead Elain to reconsider the mate she's been trying so hard to ignore.

A Feeling So Peculiar by @rarephloxes

As Elain struggles to embrace her new body after being drowned in the Cauldron for political purposes she has never been privy to, she undertakes the gruesome journey to dissociate herself from whomever she has ever been or could ever become, Elain feels ready to do what it takes to quiet her mind and dull her senses. In her haste and need to flee while staying inside, she finds herself drawn to knowledge that will change the course of her destiny.

Or: The Healer!Elain fic

curses and gifts by @crazy-ache

In which Elain is cursed to live that fateful day with the Cauldron again and again and again. Until a choice is made.

lost in your current (like a priceless wine) by @withclawandvine

On Elain’s birthday Lucien sends her a gift. She decides she’s going to put an end to these unwanted, unreciprocated presents once and for all. Instead, something begins.

Sunshine and Reunions by @shallyne

This Oneshot plays in the same Universe as Sunshine and Promises BUT you can read it seperately

Elain is sick and Lucien visits her

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucienweek2024 #elucien crossword

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alexxncl · 8 months ago

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‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 36 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | lesson 35 | lesson 37

MEPHISTOPHELES WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU i'm wiping that smug ass smirk off your face. don't play about my man's tea (i'm a lesbian)

HSNSJSDJGD he's so fed up 😭 all the man wanted was some peace and quiet

now the real question is, does diavolo want mephisto to stop lucifer from getting close to mc, or does he want to stop mc from getting close to lucifer? or both? i'm all for a poly relationship between the three of them but i've always been a dialuci girlie 🫣

oh he's such a dickhead i love him so bad

see lucifer wonders why his brothers behave the way they do. IT'S BECAUSE OF THEY LEARNED FROM WATCHING YOU !!! like lucifer is easily one of the pettiest, if not THE pettiest, out of all 7 of the brothers, but he also knows not to treat people like shit without good reason mephisto deserves all the shit he can get for

1) being racist, for lack of better phrasing;

2) being classist; and

3) being so full of himself that he can't face his own insecurities and projects them onto others

now, i'm all for character development and growth. he doesn't WANT to grow. and as much as i hate him, i love mephisto as a character. he's basically a representation of the way high society treats those that they think are "lesser" than them, even after being shown time and time again that their views and belief systems are outdated and bigoted. he and diavolo are foils almost. raised in same sphere, though mephisto definitely has had impostor syndrome for his entire life and it SHOWS

i wish we got more bits of him not being a pretentious asshole but i also think the pretentiousness adds to his value as a character yk yk

i'm calling it now, this is how he became immortal | this is also why back in season 1 of nb (i think) thirteen said that his soul wasn't as shiny as mc's anymore. it was corrupted by whatever he saw or whoever he met in the underworld. more on this here

moments like these are what i need. more depth and insight om mephisro to person, not mephisto the noble. he's such an interesting character and i feel like we only ever get a tiny glimpse of it every once in a blue moon

also, i wonder how his stance on humans now changed in the future, bc we know he was a bitch to mc on the basis of their identity in the og game

god i hate this. i knew it was was a setup from the jump

lucifer having to defend himself to mephisto, let go of his pride in the process, and now end up being framed for a crime that he obviously didn't commit? all because some racist assholes don't like the idea that he and his brothers are in consort with the future demon king

it's sad that this has to serve as a lesson to mephisto about how corrupt the lineage he was so proud to be apart of truly is, and how he's constantly perpetuating the corruption and bigoted ways of thinking just by acting in a way that benefits that lineage. but that's the way the world works outside of the game, too

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #nightbringer spoilers #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #obey me mephisto #obey me mephistopheles #mephisto obey me #mephistopheles obey me #obey me mc #mc obey me #obey me solomon #solomon obey me #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me

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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 year ago

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My Heart of Stone

A/N: We pause Regency Cassian to bring you baby's first monsterfucking fic. The unofficial extra prompt for @cassianappreciationweek ;) That's right, lovelies. It's time for Gargoyle Cassian! It case it wasn't clear, this fic is monsterfucking. It's very NSFW and the consent is a bit dubious at the beginning before Nesta full sends into getting her world rocked (pun intended). If that's not for you, that's okay. Also, make sure you check out the amazing, beautiful, showstopping art @krem-does-stuff did for me of Gargoyle Cassian :)

Read on AO3

Nesta throws all of her weight against the door until it swings open, the old metal creaking in its hinges as it gives way. She stumbles out into the crisp, night air, the breeze skating across her cheeks, prickling her skin, until she has to fight back a shiver. As she steps further away from the door, deeper into the shadows of the night, she tries to take deep, heaving breaths, but the air stutters in her lungs with every inhale, and Nesta wraps her arms tightly around herself, squeezing her eyes shut and counting to five. To ten. To twenty.

When her heart finally quiets from an erratic thunder to a dull roar, she opens her eyes again, tipping her head back and toward the sky. It’s a beautiful, clear night, inky streaks of indigo and a blanket of twinkling stars. A full moon that spotlights down onto the city below. Nesta knows that she should appreciate it. Wishes that she could appreciate it. But her skin still feels stretched too tight on her bones, her chest aching with the bruised remains of her battered heart.

Curse her father. Curse his party. And curse Tomas fucking Mandray. She knew that he would be there. Of course, the Mandrays had been there. Their name carried weight in this city, and they were family friends. Old money traditions and values died hard, especially as the years went on. But Nesta had still hoped, had kept that glimmer alive after she spoke with her father on the phone last week.

Now, she just feels stupid. Silly. Crazy. That was the new word Tomas slung at her tonight. She still remembers the smug look that peeled across his face when he spotted her across the room. Still remembers the alcohol on his breath when he cornered her outside the bathroom.

Crazy.

She was crazy for walking away from him. Crazy for thinking that she could break up with him. She knows it was the right decision, leaving him. She knows that she’s better than Tomas, and certainly deserves better than the way he treated her. But that doesn’t stop all his words from continuing to echo inside Nesta’s mind, even all these months later. They twist like dark vines until the thorns pierce skin, until the darkness squeezes in and she feels like she’s drowning, every scream filling her lungs with more water.

Who else could ever love a bitch like you?

Nesta digs the heels of her palms against her eyes and swallows hard, but there’s no escaping those grating words. Their roots burrow deep and twine with every other dark thought, every other insecurity that’s been chasing her since her mother first decided to make Nesta her favorite project. Like a sea in a raging storm, the thoughts crash relentlessly, and Nesta can feel heat beginning to prickle at the back of her eyes in response.

Anger is hot on its heels, burning red hot through her veins. It’s an emotion she grasps onto with both hands, holding it close to her chest and letting it fuel her. She hates those thoughts. Hates what her mother made her go through as a child. Hates her father. Hates Tomas Mandray. Nesta turns and kicks at the roof door in her frustration, the clang of metal echoing in the night air.

Letting out a satisfied huff, she stalks over to the northern side of the roof, to the gargoyle waiting for her there. She sits down on the corner of the ledge the gargoyle is perched on, leaning so that her cheek presses against the cool stone that makes up the gargoyle’s arm. With a soft sigh, she lets her eyes fall closed again, just taking a moment to finally breathe.

“You love me, don’t you?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no response, and Nesta truly does feel crazy for even uttering the words aloud, for asking that question to a fucking gargoyle of all things. Even still, it does make her feel a bit better, has some of those knots buried deep within her lessening and unfurling. Something about this roof, about sitting here beside this gargoyle has always seemed to help her. It’s the one place she feels like she can breathe. The one place she feels safe enough to cry.

In a way, it had almost been the gargoyles that first drew her into this apartment building. She still remembers the day she first came to view the open apartment here, when she had peered up against the glare of the afternoon sun and seen the gargoyles high overhead. Four of them, each facing a different direction. For a moment, staring up at them from the ground, Nesta had sworn some long sleeping beast deep in her soul had perked up, sworn she’d felt some subtle tug in the space between her ribs.

Whatever it was, it had led her inside. Led her to signing the lease. Led her to following those rickety stairs up to the roof access door once her boxes were all unloaded. Luckily, the questionable stairs meant that most of the other tenants in the building didn’t bother, so more often than not, Nesta finds herself up on the roof alone. It’s how she prefers it, and she supposes, technically, she’s not really alone, if you count the four massive stone gargoyles.

That first day up on the roof, Nesta had taken the time to examine each one of the gargoyles. She had been surprised to find that each was different, having expected a simple matching set. The ones that face north and south each have large, arching wings furled along their back and shoulders, while the other two gargoyles don’t. The gargoyle that faces east, toward the rising sun, is carved so there’s long hair hanging around the face, but there’s also gashes across the left side from eyebrow to cheek, almost as if the sculptor’s hand slipped with the chisel. And the gargoyle that faces west, toward the setting sun and darkness, seems to have some sort of intricately carved design on his knees.

But Nesta’s personal favorite is the one that faces north, toward the mountains. Even made of stone, the gargoyle is so large somehow, all perfect carved lines. Sometimes, she’ll trace her finger along stone, along the cut of the gargoyle's wide shoulders and down the lines of his bicep. She can’t help but marvel at how the sculptor was able to so perfectly mimic the ripple of muscle, how much love and care must have gone into creating the statue. She'll follow along the slightly raised lines of whirling stone that she's sure are meant to represent tattoos and imagine a slow and steady hand chiseling away.

If she's feeling particularly daring, she'll reach up to the gargoyle's face, slide the pad of her finger along the line of his jaw, up his cheek. The hair is another artistic marvel, made to look like curling waves that tumble around the face and to the shoulders. The gargoyle has his face tipped down, knelt on one knee over the edge of the building, as though he's bowing before some unseen queen, pledging his sword and ready to worship at her feet.

Nesta lets out another soft sigh as the breeze wafts over her again, filling her senses with the scent of a roaring fire, of pine, of the wind right before it snows. It has a shiver skittering up her spine that has nothing to do with the cool, night air. For a moment, her heart skips a beat in her chest, a small voice in the back of her mind suddenly alert and clambering for attention in her consciousness. She swears that she can almost feel eyes on her, boring right into her, but she hasn’t heard the loud creak of the roof door opening again the whole time she’s been up here.

The stone beneath Nesta’s cheek starts to slide, and her eyes snap open in a panic. Her hands scramble for the ledge, grip tightening to knuckle white as she tries to hold herself steady and regain her balance. But after a moment, Nesta realizes she’s not falling. In fact, she’s not even the one moving. It’s the stone beside her.

Nesta leaps to her feet, her heart lodging firmly in her throat. She already feels the loss like a gaping wound in her chest, the disappointment settling like a stone in her stomach, at what she knows is going to happen. Her gargoyle, her favorite gargoyle is going to go toppling over, and it’s going to be all her fault for leaning against it.

Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, unwilling to watch the disaster unfold. She waits for the crashing sound of stone shattering across the concrete below, but it never comes. Slowly, Nesta opens her eyes again, only to find her gargoyle still there. Except, where the gargoyle’s wings had been carved so they were tucked in tight, they’re now unfurled, stretched wide across the roof. It happens almost in slow motion, the gargoyle standing up from his knelt position, turning around and pinning his gaze right on Nesta.

She’s not breathing. Her limbs feel frozen in shock, in fear, and Nesta can do nothing but gape at the gargoyle now standing before her. The hair she had marveled at falls in dark strands to his shoulders, the curls rustling across his face in the breeze. They cut shadows across the strong line of his jaw, the scar etched through his right eyebrow, and Nesta realizes that his eyes are a piercing shade of hazel, sparking green and gold beneath the light of the full moon.

At least she was right about the tattoos. Whirls of black ink are etched across the golden brown skin of his chest, his shoulders. They weave their way down his arm all the way to his wrists. Down to his claws. Despite his large frame, despite the wide set shoulders and the bulk of muscle, looking at his face, Nesta could almost pretend he was human. But there’s no denying it with those claws. With the massive, purple wings that loom just behind his shoulders. With the tail that swishes out from behind his legs.

“Nesta.”

The gargoyle speaking her name, his voice a deep timbre that seems to rumble from deep within his chest, is enough to jolt her back to herself and into action. She whirls around and runs for the roof door, but the gargoyle lands right in front of her, those purple wings splayed wide and blocking her path. Nesta stumbles back before she can crash right into him, her heart thundering away in her chest. Now that they’re standing on equal ground, she can see just how tall he is, having to crane her head up just to keep her gaze on his.

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

The gargoyle tilts his head again, his eyes sweeping over her frame, and it feels like he’s studying her, like he’s cataloging every miniscule detail he finds buried beneath her skin. It’s unnerving. His attention slides back to her face, and Nesta is surprised to see anger etched across his expression, a burning blaze in his eyes and pinching his lips into a thin line.

He stalks closer to her, his hand reaching up between them, and Nesta’s entire body locks up with a flinch. She braces for the searing pain those claws promise, for the beast before her to kill her. Instead, his hand settles gently to cradle her face, large palm spanning her entire cheek and jaw. His thumb traces back and forth across her cheekbone, that small touch sending sparks ricocheting through Nesta’s blood.

“Who?” the gargoyle asks, his dark tone promising pain and death.

Nesta is confused by the question until she remembers the party, Tomas, the dried tear tracks she’s sure are marring her face. It’s then that she realizes the anger radiating off the gargoyle isn’t actually directed at her. It’s almost sweet, the way he seems to care.

Nesta reaches up and knocks his hand away from her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

The gargoyle huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. Nesta hates the way it makes his biceps bulge, the way it just draws further emphasis to the fact he’s shirtless.

“It matters when someone hurts my mate.”

“Stop calling me that,” Nesta snaps, taking a pointed step back from him. “You don’t know me.”

“I know all of your secrets, Nesta,” the gargoyle tells her, the sound of her name falling past his lips leaving goosebumps pebbling across her skin. “You whispered them to me every day.”

Heat prickles up Nesta’s neck and floods into her cheeks at that. She thinks back to all the time she spent up here. All the things she muttered, she shouted, she cried. It was meant to be a place for her to just let those things out. She had no idea the whole time this gargoyle was alive, that he was listening to her.

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that. You’re made of stone.”

The gargoyle’s hand reaches out again, claws curling around Nesta’s wrist this time, as he tugs her closer and presses her palm against the center of his chest. “Does this feel like stone, sweetheart?”

Instinctively, almost of their own accord, Nesta’s fingers curl and press against his skin. He’s just so warm, heat practically radiating from his body, and there’s no denying the firm muscles beneath her hand. They seem to jump and flex beneath her touch, and Nesta has to swallow hard. She tries to pull her hand away, but the gargoyle’s grip is firm, holding her there, and fluttering just beneath her fingertips, she feels it…

“A heartbeat…”

A smirk pulls its way across his face, the expression making him even more handsome. Nesta decides she hates that too. She hates that this gargoyle, this beast, could be so attractive. That the heat blazing through his hazel eyes caresses along her skin like a lover’s embrace. Keeping his hold on her wrist, he steps closer still until they’re toe to toe. Until Nesta can truly feel the heat radiating from him prickling across her whole body. Until her senses are once again flooded with that smoke and pine scent.

“It beats only for you, Nes.”

It’s like a corny line straight out of one of her romance novels. Straight out of one of her monsterfucking books, more like. She always joked with Emerie that she would never run screaming and scared like those heroines always did. Especially since the monsters always had them screaming for all the right reasons a few pages later. She never thought she’d actually have to put her money where her mouth is, never thought she’d ever have to put her own gripping fear to the test when staring down a monster.

“Do you have a name?” Nesta asks, hoping that if she can keep the gargoyle talking, can keep him distracted, she can figure out a plan.

“Cassian,” he tells her, his free hand burying itself in her hair, tilting her head up more.

“Cassian…”

Cassian groans when she repeats his name back to him, leaning down and burying his face in the crook of her neck. His nose slides along her skin, his lips following the same blazing path until he reaches a spot behind her ear. Nesta’s breath hitches in her lungs as he kisses there, his teeth scraping teasingly, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stay focused, but her body seems keen on betraying her. Both his hands move to settle at her waist, his grip on her gentle, almost reverent, but it’s loose enough to give her the chance she needs.

She counts to three in her mind, and then she tears herself away from him, sprinting for the roof door. Blessedly, it doesn’t stick for once, and Nesta runs down the stairs as fast as she can. She dares to look back over her shoulder when she reaches her floor, but even though there’s no sign of Cassian, she doesn’t slow down.

She slams her apartment door closed behind her as soon as she’s safely inside, sliding the locks into place and double checking them to be safe. With a relieved breath, she slowly backs away from the door, pressing a hand to her chest and willing her still thundering heart to calm. She wonders if she should call the police. She’s not quite sure what she’d say to them, but it seems like the logical thing to do.

The soft whooshing sound of her balcony door swinging open has Nesta whirling around with wide eyes, realizing she’s made a grave error in her escape plan. She never locks that door. It always seemed silly since her apartment was so high up. Who could ever break-in that way? Not to mention that balcony is a loose term anyways. It's more like a ledge, barely enough space for the plant Elain gifted her the first week she moved in.

But clearly it’s enough space for Cassian to land, his steps slow, measured as he walks inside Nesta’s apartment, a predator stalking his prey. She expects him to be angry, but instead, he merely smiles at her, a cocksure smirk that tugs up higher on the left side of his lips, hazel eyes practically glinting as he watches her.

“You keep trying to run from me, but I don’t think you realize it only excites me more.”

Nesta looks around frantically, trying to find some sort of weapon, something to defend herself with. She spies an old candlestick holder, something Gwyn had thrifted when helping to decorate her apartment. She grabs it now, turning back toward Cassian with it brandished, but he’s already crossed the distance between them without her noticing. His hand catches her wrist, halting her movements, and he raises an eyebrow, that smug smirk of his still painted across his face.

“Your fire excites me too.” Cassian squeezes until the candlestick drops from Nesta’s hand, his other arm sliding around her waist and pulling her into him. “I have waited a very, very long time to hear your song.”

“I’ll scream,” Nesta threatens, raising her chin defiantly.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

“Quite confident for someone who’s apparently waited a very, very long time.”

Cassian chuckles, the sound warm and low, as he slides his thumb across Nesta’s bottom lip. “A haughty witch, my mate.”

“I’m not your anything, you insufferable bastard,” Nesta tells him, jerking head back and away from his hand.

“You can’t lie to me. I know that you feel it too. Our souls are bound together.”

“Not interested. Go fly off and bother someone else.”

“But they wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful as you are.”

Try as she might, Nesta can’t help but preen beneath his praise. It’s only made worse by the knowing look that graces his face. Both his hands come up to frame her cheeks, tilting her head up enough that when he leans down their noses bump together. It leaves barely a hairsbreadth of space between them, Cassian’s breath skating across her lips with every exhale. She presses up onto her toes, her body leaning forward into him almost subconsciously before she catches herself, remembering that she doesn't know this man. Remembering that he's not even a man.

“Need something, Nes?” Cassian asks, his voice quiet but full of teasing.

The tone has Nesta huffing in frustration, latching back onto her anger. “If you try to kiss me, I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

Cassian snarls softly. “Do it then.”

Nesta can’t say she ever imagined what it might be like kissing a gargoyle, but it certainly wasn’t this. All other thoughts, all other protests, melt away as he crashes his mouth against hers. His lips slide against hers with practiced ease, rough and with abandon. His tongue presses hotly into her mouth, and there’s no stopping the moan that tumbles free from her throat. The sound only seems to spur him on, Cassian greedily swallowing down every sound. His arm drops back to her waist, pulling her flush against him until she can feel every hard ridge of his body pressed against her.

Before Nesta realizes they're even moving, her back bumps into the wall. Cassian's tail slides up her calf and curls around her thigh, lifting her leg so he can slide into the cradle of her hips. She can feel the hard line of his erection with every rock of his hips against hers, and heat cascades through her veins, pooling low in her gut. Her whole body feels alright, sparking in the most delicious way, and soon, she's shifting her own hips to meet his movements, chasing that blessed friction. She buries her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands, tugging him closer still until he's the one groaning into her mouth.

Cassian pulls his mouth away from hers, latching onto her neck. His teeth sink into the skin of her pulse point, tongue soothing over the pain, and that fire in Nesta's veins turns into a roaring blaze. The flames lick through her limbs and spark through her nerve endings, until she can do nothing but tug Cassian's mouth back to hers and kiss him greedily.

“Which door?” Cassian asks when he pulls away again, voice a breathless rasp and teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

Nesta blinks a few times, trying desperately to shake the hazy fog that's taken over her mind. “What?”

“Which door?”

“The left. Second on the left.”

The tail slips away from Nesta's thigh, just to be replaced by Cassian's hands. He hauls her up and against him, hands slipping back to knead at her ass. Nesta isn't sure if it's the wings or just his long legs, but it's no time at all before they're in her bedroom, before Cassian is depositing her on her bed. He clambers up after her, settling between her legs and leaning down to continue his ministrations along her neck. One clawed finger drags from her collarbones down, shredding her dress clean down the middle with precision and ease.

“Was that really necessary?” Nesta snaps, even as she sits up enough that she can pull what remains of her dress off.

Cassian hums noncommittally, clearly only half listening, his attention wholly on her heaving chest. His hand reaches toward her breast, but Nesta is quick to smack it away. Replacing her dress is one thing, but bras are expensive. She reaches her own hands back to unclasp the garment, sliding it off and tossing it aside. She settles back on her elbows against the blankets, her skin heating under Cassian's hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” Cassian whispers, to her or to himself, Nesta isn't sure. “My beautiful Nesta.”

He surges forward and connects their lips again, groaning into her mouth as he presses her back against the mattress. One of his hands finds her chest, the large span of it covering her breast completely. He kneads and squeezes, the prickle of his claws against her skin mixing the pleasure with pain.

Nesta is a panting mess by the time he pulls away from the kiss. He trails his mouth along her jaw, her neck, her collarbones, stopping periodically to nip at the skin, to suck until more breathy moans tumble from Nesta’s lips. His hand leaves her breast, and Nesta would be annoyed at the loss, except he replaces it with his mouth. She practically arches up off the mattress as his tongue swirls over her nipple.

She can feel the way Cassian smirks against her skin, and she would feel more abashed about the reaction he pulled from her, but his mouth working her over feels too good. The way his teeth graze slightly, the way he sucks, the way his tongue moves in languid circles, it’s obscene, and by the time he’s switching to her other breast, Nesta can do nothing but writhe beneath him, her hips bucking up in a desperate search for some friction. Cassian’s tail slips around his thigh, sliding across her hips, and Nesta lets out a frustrated huff as it keeps her pinned down to the mattress.

“Patience, Nes,” Cassian chastises, lowering his mouth again for extra, torturous, good measure.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but blessedly, Cassian moves down the mattress, moves down between her legs, pressing kisses along her sternum and stomach. He pauses to suck a lovebite near her hip bone, his hands sliding up her ankles, her calves, before curling around her thighs. They tug until she’s spread wide for him, one finger sliding tantalizing, teasingly, over her still clothed center.

“For someone who was threatening to scratch my eyes out, you’re practically dripping for me,” Cassian tells her, pressing the barest hint of pressure against her clit.

“For someone who was so confident, you’ve yet to prove anything,” Nesta fires back, burying a hand in his hair and shoving his head down where she really wants him.

Cassian chuckles, but he leans down and licks a long, thick stripe over her, his groan almost as loud as Nesta’s moan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to bury my face in your sweet cunt. How long I’ve waited for you to finally come to me on a full moon.”

The words settle in the back of Nesta’s mind, whispering for attention, but she’s too distracted watching as Cassian’s claws tease the waistband of her panties. Slowly, those claws curl, tugging the fabric down her legs and off. Her discarded panties have barely even hit the floor before Cassian presses his mouth against her, his tongue finding her clit and moving in those same delicious circles he’d used on her breast. Nesta tosses her head back, letting a low moan of his name, but just as quickly as he started, Cassian stops.

“Eyes on me,” Cassian orders, his claws squeezing at her thighs in warning. “I want to watch your face when you fall apart for me.”

Nesta whimpers quietly at his words, but she tilts her chin back down to meet his gaze. It feels like a mistake. All of his teasing already has her dangling by a thread, but the sight of him has her soaring even higher. His wings are splayed out wide across the blankets, his dark curls disheveled from Nesta running her fingers through him, and his eyes… The piercing hazel of them still glints in the moonlight that pours in through her bedroom window, but there’s a dark quality to them, a hunger, the pupils blown so wide they almost swallow any other color up.

And though Nesta can’t see his whole face, she can tell just from those eyes that he’s smirking again.

Cassian keeps his gaze pinned on her, but he devours her with a fervor that has Nesta struggling to do the same. Her fingers grip and tug at his hair just to give herself some sort of anchor. He alternates between swirling his tongue over her clit and fucking it in and out of her, every groan against her sending vibrations all the way down to her toes. Each hot, wet slide of his mouth against her has Nesta climbing higher and higher concerningly fast, and even though Cassian’s grip has her practically pinned so she can’t rock and grind against his face the way she really wants to, she’s already so close.

Every sound out of Nesta’s mouth is a breathy moan, a choked off sound of Cassian’s name. She can feel the familiar heat coiling low in her gut, twisting tighter and tighter, and it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes open, to keep her eyes on the man, the beast, buried between her thighs. Cassian’s lips close around her clit, sucking, and that’s it. Her eyes finally squeeze shut as she shatters, thighs pressing against his grip on them as she tries to clamp them around his head.

Nesta is barely able to catch her breath, has barely come down from the aftershocks of her orgasm still ricocheting through her, when she feels Cassian’s tongue on her again. She lets out a whimper at the overstimulation, trying to squirm away from his mouth, but he lets out a snarl, his claws digging into her thigh until it starts to sting. It’s a firm reminder of exactly who’s between her thighs right now. Exactly what.

“It’s too much,” Nesta whines, trying to move away again, her knee knocking against his temple.

Cassian’s tail whips around and curls around her ankle, tugging her leg back down and pinning it there. He licks another stripe up her cunt, moaning at the taste, before meeting her gaze again. “My mate can take it. I know you can.”

“Cassian…”

Nesta's protest ends in a choked off moan as Cassian sinks one of his claws into her. Just one of them is thicker than her own fingers have ever been, the stretch somehow too much and not enough at the same time.

“That's it,” Cassian praises, leaning down to lick at her clit again while his claw moves slowly in and out. “So tight, sweetheart. Can't wait to feel you squeezing my cock.”

Nesta whimpers at his words, at the way he curls his claw inside her. She's already dangerously close again, her whole body on pins and needles as she balances on that precipice. Her hips start to rock down against his hand, against his face, while she chases that release, back bowing off the bed with every lick and suck to her clit.

“Eyes on me,” Cassian snaps, his hand stilling until Nesta drags her attention back to his face. “That's my good girl.”

Cassian's eyes widen as Nesta's whole body responds to those words, as she clenches around him and a loud moan tears free from deep in her chest. Somewhere, in the back of Nesta's mind, she knows she should be embarrassed, but the praise shoots through her like lightning, and she wants to hear it again.

“Do you like that?” Cassian asks, that smirk of his returning. “My good girl, my pretty mate, taking my fingers so well.”

Cassian presses in a second claw beside the first, and Nesta's toes curl, her thighs shaking against the hold of his free hand and his tail.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful like this. But you're even more beautiful when you come. Come on, Nes. Be my good girl and come again for me.”

Cassian dips his head back down, and one lick of her clit has Nesta tumbling head first through another orgasm. The force of another one so quickly has tears prickling in the corner of her eyes, but thankfully, when she slumps back against the mattress, Cassian’s grip on her thighs finally relents.

He slides back up her body, connecting their lips again. Nesta can taste the remnants of herself on his tongue, and it has her moaning into his mouth. She slides her hand down his hair, his shoulders, his chest, until she reaches the waistband of his pants, the only garment of clothing he’s wearing, but before she can tug at them, her wrists are pinned back against the mattress, just one of Cassian’s clawed hands holding both of hers.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines against his lips, trying to buck her hips up against him. “Fuck me.”

Cassian chuckles and shakes his head teasingly. “So demanding.”

“Get used to it.”

“Happily.”

Cassian shifts off of Nesta and the bed, reaching for the waistband of his pants and shoving them down his legs. Nesta’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him. With his large frame catching in the moonlight, his purple wings stretched wide over his shoulders, his hair falling in dark rivulets around his face, he looks like a fallen angel, a warrior from some long forgotten, ancient, magical people. He’s beautiful. The most beautiful man she’s ever seen despite not even being a man, and something tugs deep in Nesta’s chest almost in recognition, as her eyes sweep over him.

And his cock. Realistically, Nesta knew that with how tall he was, he was bound to be large, but knowing and seeing are two different things, and seeing the long, thick length hard and already weeping between his strong thighs has her swallowing hard. Has her clenching in anticipation. One clawed hand wraps around it, stroking once, twice, before Cassian steps back over to the bed, kneeling up onto the mattress. Nesta spreads her legs wider almost instinctively, and when Cassian settles back between them, she tugs him down into another kiss.

She waits for Cassian to press his hips down, for him to finally sink into her, but he continues to hold himself up above her. She lets out a frustrated huff and wraps her legs around his waist, digging her heels in encouragingly, but it doesn’t work. Cassian merely laughs amusedly against her lips and presses a line of kisses across her cheek.

“Be a good girl and beg for it,” Cassian breathes against her ear.

“Cassian, please. Please fuck—”

Nesta doesn’t even finish before Cassian is shifting and the tip of him is sliding into her. His thrusts are shallow, sinking in inch by inch by inch, and the stretch borders just on the edge of pain, but Nesta has never felt so full in her life. When he finally bottoms out, Cassian stills, their hips pressed flushed together, his nose and lips tracing a path along Nesta’s neck, her jaw, to that spot behind her ear that always has her shuddering.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Cassian groans against her skin. “So perfect for me.”

Nesta experiments with clenching down around him, and the moan it draws out of him goes straight to her head. She does it again, and at least, this time, she doesn’t have to beg for anything. Cassian pulls his hips back just to snap back forward again. He sets a brutal pace, hips knocking against hers with every rough thrust. It’s just the way Nesta likes it, and she digs her nails into his shoulders, dragging them down his arms, as he works her into a moaning mess.

Cassian sits back on his haunches, pulling Nesta’s legs so they’re splayed across his thighs, as he continues to move. “Gods, look at you. Look at how you take me.”

“Look at you,” Nesta breathes around a moan, and gods, does she mean it.

With his wings flared wide above them, with his hair falling into his face, with the muscles in his thighs and stomach flexing with every snap of his hips, the sight is obscene. Almost as obscene at the sounds echoing around the four walls of her bedroom. She had already been absolutely dripping from her two previous orgasm, but now she’s sure she’s made a complete mess. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but it just seems to turn her on more and more, and she can feel herself cresting higher to that blessed peak.

Cassian’s thumb finds her clit again, and Nesta barely lasts a few tight circles against it before the dam breaks. He continues to move his hips, working her through it and stretching out her orgasm. Nesta’s entire body feels wrung out by the time she comes back down, her every muscle loose and sated as she sinks into the mattress.

She tries to focus on her breathing, on calming her thrashing heart and shaking the pins and needles feeling that pinches at her fingers and toes. But she realizes with a jolt that Cassian is still pressed hot and hard inside her, and when he thrusts his hips shallowly, her eyes snap back open again.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines in protest, her nails digging in hard enough into his bicep she’s sure she’s drawn blood. “I can’t.”

Cassian leans back down over her, pulling her legs back up and around his waist. “I know my pretty mate can give me one more.”

He presses in deep, merely grinding his hips down against her, and Nesta lets out a choked off sob of a moan, tears leaking freely from the corner of her eyes. She tries to shift beneath him, tries to find some relief, but Cassian’s tail curls around her ankles, keeping her legs locked around his back.

“You promised to scream, remember?” Cassian continues, keeping the drag of his cock in and out of her slow and torturous. “Want to hear you scream my name while you come all over my cock.”

Nesta wants to hate the way her body is already heating again at his ministrations, but it feels too good for her to care, some part deep within her keening at the roughness of it all, rising to meet the very beast above her. She drags her hands back up and into his hair, tugging hard at the strands until she can pull Cassian’s mouth down to her, until she can sink her teeth into his bottom lip.

“Then make me scream.”

Cassian lets out a growl, and then the monster is truly unleashed. His hips slap against hers, the mattress rattling in the bedframe with every inward thrust. With her legs still secured by his tail, Nesta can do nothing but hold on, loud moans and screams of his name falling past her lips just like he wanted.

She dares to reach a hand up over his shoulders, dares to slide her fingertips against the leathery skin of his wings, and Cassian practically roars. He slams himself to the hilt, his hips stilling and warmth spreading through Nesta as he spills inside her. It’s enough to send her tumbling over the edge with him, her whole body shaking with this release, spots popping in her vision.

They both take a moment to catch their breath, and then Cassian is shifting off of her and the bed. She hears the shuffle of his feet, hears rummaging and the sound of running water further in her apartment, and when he returns, he has a warmth cloth to help clean her up. He helps Nesta to slip beneath the blankets, and though it’s a bit awkward with his wings, he slides in beside her, curling his arms tight around her waist. Nesta practically melts into him, letting out a soft, happy sigh as her eyes flutter shut.

Cassian’s finger traces lines and patterns between the freckles on her shoulder before he dips his head to press a kiss there. “Sleep, my mate.”

Nesta doesn’t need to be told twice.

~ * * * ~

When Nesta wakes, her bedroom is flooded with the murky light that comes from early dawn, casting shadows across the space while the sun’s few first morning rays creep their way through her window. She feels surprisingly cold, and she shivers, curling the blankets tighter around her shoulders. She realizes belatedly that it’s Cassian’s warmth that she’s missing, and when she stretches a hand out, she only finds sheets beside her.

With a frown, she rolls over properly, only to find Cassian standing in front of the window, looking out at the morning and the streets below. At least, she thinks it’s Cassian. He still has those dark curly strands hanging down to his shoulders, still has that expanse of golden brown skin and whirls of black ink. But gone are the claws, the tail, the sprawling purple wings.

“Cassian?” Nesta asks, sitting up and scrubbing a hand across her eyes.

Cassian turns at the sound of his name, smiling at her. There’s a softness to his hazel eyes that has them glinting pure gold in the early morning light, a softness to his smile and his expression that has Nesta’s heart stuttering between her ribs until warmth bursts and blooms there.

“You’re not a…”

“You broke my curse,” Cassian explains, stepping back over to the bed.

Nesta blinks a few times, willing her brain to fully wake up. “Curse?”

“Yes,” Cassian tells her, sitting on the mattress and reaching a hand up, gently tucking a strands of hair back behind her ear. “In my village, mates were rare, but they were sacred. Everyone hoped and dreamed of meeting theirs someday. But there was this witch, Amarantha, and she didn’t take too kindly to being rejected, especially because of mates, so she cursed us all.”

“But I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.”

“You found me. Amarantha thought she was so conniving with her rules, finding a mate under a full moon, but you did. My pretty, clever mate.”

Nesta can feel a flush creeping up her neck at his words. “So, what happens now? This whole mate thing?”

Cassian chuckles softly and takes Nesta’s hand in his, pressing her palm against the center of his chest just as he did last night, his heart still a steady beat beneath her fingertips. “I told you. Our souls are bound together. You are mine, and I am yours.”

Nesta can’t stop the incredulous laugh that tears free from her. “So, that’s it then?”

Cassian’s smile is blinding as his hands come up to cradle her face, as he presses her back against the pillows. “That’s it then.”

Nesta is sure that she’ll have a million other questions later, but it’s hard to focus on anything else when Cassian starts pressing feather light kisses along the skin of her neck. She sighs contently as he nips at her pulse point, her legs wrapping up around his hips. She buries one hand in the dark strands of his hair, the other sliding down his spine, but as her hand slides over his skin, she pouts over his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss the wings though.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head

#nessian #cassianappreciationweek2023 #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #gargoyle cassian #my fic

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shini--chan · 11 months ago

Note

Ok, but, 1p France finding out that reader does love him?

Yandere France - Reciprocation

Here we would have a man over the moon. On one hand, he would be smug about it, because of course you would fall for him, the epitome of the perfect paramour. Who in their right mind wouldn't? On the flip side, he is relieved because deep down, he was scared that you would fall for the charms of a lesser person and be blind to his dazzling perfection. Can you really blame him? Francis has been in many relationships before, but a lot of them were of the lassi faire variety, where it was a given that the love and connection would wane and fade, or the romance came with little effort. But here, with you, he would be filled with desperation and yearning and yet-fulfilled desire and it would push him to madness. You're so important to him, and he would want you so badly.

While you falling in love with him would make him all the more smitten and obsessed with you, it would only temporarily soothe his fears and doubts. After all, he had often fallen in love with another, promised them the moon and still winded up leaving them. Who says that the reverse can’t happen? Who says that what is true love found for him is just a liaison for you?

He’ll do everything in his power to ensure that you stay at his side. Francis will treat you like a princess from the court of the Sun King, all the more so that he’ll stand out from all the other rubble. Just don’t think that he’ll turn into a bootlicker in that case, or appease you at every turn. A princess has to follow strict rules in order to hold her position, after all. You’ll have to treat him as your liege lord, with all strings attached - when he says “Jump!” you ask “How high?”. While he’ll treat you like a gift from god, he’ll still be scared that you’ll turn away from him, or that somebody else will snitch you. All the rules he’ll impose on you will be framed by him as him caring for you, but that will still not be enough to distract from his controlling and smothering treatment.

Should you protest, he’ll guilt trip and gaslight you, pointing out that he just loves you like you love him, and that you are overexaggerating with your complaints. Besides, didn’t your relationship work so splendidly in the past? So why are you protesting? It is not like everything has changed. He doesn’t always demand you tell him where you are going, when you leave your home, so don’t depict it like that. Though, such a setting of boundaries will only come over as nagging in his mind. Surely you shouldn’t be reduced to the stereotypical old married couple already? It would make him think you are falling out of love and that would lead him to tighten his grip on you.

In short, while loving him in return will make some things better, as in that it would lead to outright kidnapping and a very doting lover in the beginning, it will also make some things worse. Later on in the relationship, you’ll very much be walking the tightrope between demonstrating your love and retaining your own independence and sanity.

#yandere hetalia #yandere x reader #yandere france #yandere

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just-a-strange-boy · 2 years ago

Text

boiling tempers

He might be an excellent neurosurgeon and your colleague, but Stephen Strange has the talent of winding you up like no other person can. After a surgery nearly goes wrong, you finally clash.

Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), hate sex, rough sex, unprotected, semi-public, mature language, one act of physical violence, mentions of surgery, Stephen being an asshole

A/N: we all feel some type of way about surgeon strange, don't we?

There was not a single human being that annoyed you more than Doctor Stephen fucking Strange.

Maybe it was his stupidly smug face, the cold look of superiority he tended to wear, trying to convince everyone that yeah, he was the best neurosurgeon and yeah, he did perform miracles on the human nervous system and no, your disease just simply wasn't good enough to be treated by him.

Maybe it was his arrogance, the way he put himself above the rest of the hospital staff, his dismissive stance on cases that were not challenging and therefore not deserving of being put on his surgical records.

Perhaps it was the way he talked down to other nurses and doctors alike, the way he never even spared as much as a glance or a tight-lipped “Hello” when crossing familiar faces in the hallway, going along his day like there was no other as good as Stephen Strange.

It irked you that you couldn't even deny him all of the fame and praise he earned, considering the fact that he was actually the best neurosurgeon the country could offer and he did damn good work.

That also unfortunately ensured him the top spot at the Metro General, which was the perfect opportunity to be an absolute dick to others and most turned a blind eye at his behavior.

The directors board of the hospital was most pleased to have Strange as their top neurosurgeon – any hospital would have – but that likely had to do with his abilities and definitely not with his personality. Doctors, students and nurses were in adoration of his surgical skills, marveling how Strange spoke about his work and how passionate he was about taking on cases (if worthy of his attention), and of course mooning over his looks.

Though did anyone of them possibly think he was a great person?

He was a great surgeon, sure. You could admit to that. You had quite a bit of respect for the work he did, unmatched in his capability and passion. An excellent, fast and hard working doctor, definitely admirable for his accomplishments, truly someone to look up to – for as long as he was in his scrubs in the OR, fingers busy with reattaching nerves or scrambling around in other people's brains.

The one and only Doctor Strange sure messed with your brain too.

If that weren't already enough... being around him was simply unavoidable.

Because the doctor was not only head neurosurgeon, making you – after years of studying, going through multiple exams and with a good eight years of work experience under your belt, now a perfectly capable surgical assistant – his stepping rug on every opportunity. No, he also happened to be a friend of Christine's.

How she had come to find someone like Strange even bearable in the first place was a huge mystery to you.

When you had first started at the Metro as a surgical assistant, working alongside resident doctors day by day, Christine had been one of your first good friends here and you quickly learned of her admittedly very silly crush on Stephen Strange.

You had heard more than enough about it. The way he had denied any of her advances straight away. How he had downright refusing to date her, up until the point that she had finally decided to put an end to trying and accepted they were never going to be anything besides friends.

Friendship seemed to work just fine for them. She still continued to spend time with him on the regular, plenty even, and you never really understood why. Her connection to the neurosurgeon was by all means strange – having asked times and times again what she might gain out of it, Christine never really went into detail why she was enduring the way he was. And god forbid, why she was even caring for him in this way.

Who knew what kind of secret Strange was hiding that made him actually likable in her eyes? Whatever it was, Christine kept it to herself. All she ever said was "He's not that bad when you get to know him."

You sure as hell didn't want to get to know him any more than you already did.

It was worse enough that you had to see him all the time.

He was in Christine's presence constantly – loitering around her office whenever they had a second of time to spare or interfering in lunch breaks and conversations you had meant to have with her. Of course, they were colleagues and their shared work was commendable, so in some way it seemed like Strange counted a lot on her opinion – whether it was going over cases together, creating a new surgical procedure, bothering her with preparation for speeches or events.

There was not a day you didn't run into him at the hospital either. As to be expected, you mostly saw him in the OR, where you had to assist him because it was your job, where you had to do his bidding in order to ensure a successful surgery. You never let your opinion of Strange influence the way you worked with him, passing tools from hand to hand. If anything, you've learned plenty about neurosurgery and the surgeon himself in your time assisting him.

But being constantly put on the same shifts with Strange also meant you saw a lot more of him during an entire work week than you would have wanted to. All you got to see of him outside the OR was not convincing you to seek out even more of him.

Plus, you were pretty sure that Stephen Strange had no fucking interest in getting to know you either. He knew you were friends with Christine, he seemed to hold no grudge against you personally, had never complained about the times you worked together at the operating table, but he was as indifferent as he always was with others. Constantly referring to you by your last name. Tending to ignore you whenever you came across each other in Christine's presence. Certainly not going out of his way to be particularly nice to you.

Sometimes you understood.

Neurosurgery was nothing for the faint of heart.

They all took hours and hours in the OR sometimes, remaining up on their feet and concentrated for a really long time. Surgeries were challenging, nerve-wrecking, tiring. Emergencies were most stressful. Of course, everything had to be in place for the head surgeon right in time, everyone needed to be prepared for complications at the worst times, everyone needed to stay focused and ready for the surgeon's requirements.

That was the job you had signed up for and you didn't require Doctor Strange to use a kind tone in the OR. You didn't mind that he scoffed at his staff occasionally or that he wasn't thanking you for doing the basic assistant work.

What you minded was that Strange sometimes used others as a personal punching bag when something wasn't going right, making sure to point out everyone's mistakes, except his own of course.

And this had almost gone terribly wrong.

Though it was neither your teams nor the doctor's fault that the scans had failed to show the true expense of the tumor of your most recent patient, it was a certain someone's fault for wanting to make the impossible possible.

The entire surgical team had advised Stephen Strange not to do it, to not even try to touch that tumor after opening the patient up, but he had been so convinced of his surgical skills that he tried it anyways, wanting to please his own god complex like he just loved to do.

Only a couple of minutes later, though working with a calm and steady hand as usual, he had to calmly admit to his personal mistake and stopped whatever he had planned in his genius mind when he noticed he had underestimated that tumor, having unfortunately triggered some hemorrhage that disabled him to keep on operating. Instead of a resection, he now had to opt for clipping the bleeding, which was a difficult and stressful change of action for the lot of them – not impossible, but looking at the great schemes of things preventable, had he listened.

The team had barely managed to stabilize the patient's condition after he had done his best to fix the mistake.

You could tell that Strange was in a sour mood, his inflated ego having taken quite the damage after realizing that playing god didn't work out for him so well sometimes and needing to admit his personal failure, while he was closing the patient up again, tumor remaining in place.

Even so, you thought he should count himself lucky and were thoroughly relieved that him acting out had not taken this man's life. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to drop a negative comment about what had happened to the surgeon himself, who was already tense and on edge from his failed attempt.

Instead you had decided to say something nice, whatever had made you get this idea.

"I've never seen such a massive tumor. It would have taken hours of preparation to even ensure a partial resection. Let alone a miracle to get rid of it entirely", you so casually mentioned to the doctor as you were getting changed side by side like so often, the only two remaining in the locker room.

You were hardly ever chatty around him, neither was he with you. And yeah, you were very aware he could get nasty in one of his moods, so perhaps opening your mouth to him now wasn't a smart decision. However, you were a fairly decent person, his colleague, showing sympathy when it was due, and you were under the impression that he could use a kind word.

Stephen Strange was arrogant and a downright asshole sometimes, but only human – and like any other person he had made a mistake, a lapse of judgment. While it shouldn't have happened in the OR or almost cost a person's life, there was no way of turning time back to prevent it. He had owned up to it by admitting his defeat and would carry the possible consequences.

"It was the right decision to stop. A good decision. You did what you could. Going on would have been too big of a risk and I'm glad you managed to clip it entirely."

Strange grumbled a little, seemingly ignoring your comment at first and wordlessly slipping out of his scrubs to reveal a sight you knew all too well for getting undressed in the same room quite regularly.

And dear lord, the sight of him only.

You were too defeated after the chaos in the OR to keep yourself from looking. Wasn't it annoying how good he looked too? As much as you hated his smug face, he was a painfully attractive man. Taking good care of himself and his body, certainly fitting in the occasional work-out between shifts. What he lacked in personality, decency for one, this body made up.

Judging by looks alone, couldn't let your gaze wander too often or obvious, the man was likely sporting a big dick too – and to say the least, Strange might not have been very desirable when it came to character, but you were certain he would be a good fuck.

"Bleeding was horrid, yeah, but as I said... a partial resection still should have been possible. But for that I would need a team that backs me up when it gets critical and doesn't retreat when things seem a little more challenging", the surgeon eventually spoke, “Didn't help that everyone was so stressed out all of the sudden, threw me a little off guard.”

As soon as he had opened his mouth, every positive impression or thought you had ever harvested for him seemed to instantly leave the room, the building, the city and Earth itself. His enormous ego was once again infuriating you.

The audacity alone to claim what he had just said made you see red.

Everyone on your surgical team was used to Strange, he was used to all of you. You worked together well, hand in hand, especially when things were tough!

It wasn't any of your jobs to kiss his ass because it suited him better, and that very well included giving him counterpoints in the OR, in order to prevent him from pushing past the limits. Which he had done. Which would have gone wrong hadn't you all been there to assist him in undoing the mistake.

And yet he had just said that, convinced of his god-like ability, accusing your team was at fault, denying that he was fallible like any other human being.

While you had really meant to be nice to him and not to scratch his already vulnerable ego any further, that was one word too much.

Stephen Strange had the talent of winding you up like no one else could.

"With all respect, doctor, you can count yourself lucky that this man is still alive and didn't end up in the morgue like he almost did", you eventually snapped and it sure must have looked ridiculous: you in your underwear, furious with rage, significantly smaller than Strange himself, as you faced him.

No smug look on his face anymore, but a suddenly darkened expression, jaw tensing, his facial muscles twitching in annoyance, Strange went from zero to one-hundred real quick too.

"Watch your mouth", he snarled, sharply addressing you with your last name like he always did, though not looking any less ridiculous in his underwear. He stepped towards you with a somewhat threatening intention, obviously wanting to impose.

Strange was a broad man, healthy, strong, could have easily overpowered you. You noticed that his whole body had gone rigid with tension, fists clenched, muscles visibly tense, and on any other day you might have gladly allowed yourself to admire the sight, but not today.

You both kept your stances.

"Yeah, or what?", you spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm warning you here", Strange replied, the air between the two of you intense and heavy with both your frustrations. Any more tension and the air might have cracked under the pressure. "Don't push it, boy. Only because you're Christine's friend doesn't mean I won't get you into serious trouble with the board."

"Threatening me now, doctor? Oh, you must really think you're so untouchable, don't you?", you snarled right back at him, almost butting heads together, so close to one another like never before, only a sliver away from actually touching.

"I'm just saying it how it is. You're a huge asshole, never able to look past your own arrogance, and you'd know how much people actually despised you if you looked left and right sometimes."

"And you're an insolent and incompetent brat. This behavior is entirely unprofessional", Strange spewed, anger and frustration glowing in his eyes, written all over his face, "and I will make sure you're going to regret this."

"You're not any better, Strange", you spoke with sheer despise and must have looked just as frustrated, facing him like this, not backing down, absolutely enraged by his stupid threats and the simple overestimation of his own person.

Brows furrowed, nostrils blowing furiously, so up in each others personal space that you felt his warm, heavy breath on him, standing there in nothing but your underwear, bodies tense with every single second and then... all hell broke loose.

Strange took another step forward, grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you backwards into the lockers, with a little more force than you had initially expected. The sudden impact made you groan in pain, your back colliding with the cold metal doors, as the other man now held you wedged between them and him.

Your heart leaped in your chest, your breath hitched for a moment. Because you hadn't expected this form of aggressiveness from him, the sheer dominance, getting so physical when it could get him in serious trouble to assault someone in such a way, even as a doctor. Especially as a doctor.

But facing him like this, it wasn't fear that surged through your body. No, definitely not fear. It turned you on.

"Fuck you", you just said, trying to push back and shove him away, slamming the flats of your palms against his pecs. Though when you noticed that you had no way of escaping, Strange's hot and tense body keeping you trapped, him being so much stronger than you were, your brain simply short-circuited.

Instead of struggling against him further, you leaned towards him and clashed your mouths together in a whim, immediately thinking to yourself that whatever you were doing right was really foolish.

You would have expected anything from this unpredictable man, being shoved to the side, being called slurs, perhaps even being truly physically hurt after doing something so ridiculously stupid – but all the doctor did, while seemingly surprised by the action, was pressing his mouth right back onto yours, almost hungrily, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

Strange was responding to your attempt of a kiss, the both of you pouring all of your sheer anger into it. Teeth clashing and biting, tongues plundering each others mouths, he kept you pressed up against the locker with all of his body, his hands holding you in place, nudging his thigh between your legs which definitely added onto your undeniable arousal.

"You're terrible and I hate you", you groaned against his lips once gasping for air, though wasting no time to pull him in close again, hand sliding into the doctor's hair as you tugged hard on it, the other finding his upper back, fingers digging into his shoulders to a point where you knew it was likely going to hurt him.

You were hoping it would leave stinging marks for him to remember this.

"Feeling's mutual", Strange hissed into the kiss, thigh pressing further into your growing hardness, holding onto your waist with a firm grip, fingers digging into your skin so tightly that you almost hoped they would bruise you too.

"Look at you, like a little slut, getting all hard and desperate when someone treats you like deserve it", he continued on, the low gravel of his voice sending shivers up your spine, the bite of his harsh words even more so sparking your arousal.

"Yeah, as if you're not into it", you replied immediately, knowing that Strange was hard too, feeling him pressed up against your leg. Something within you screamed to be taken apart right here, like this, wanted the doctor to use you, to fuck the frustration right out of the both of you. You had no idea why that sounded like such a good idea.

"Why not be a man of your word and put me in my place?", you asked quietly, suggestively, kissing him hard once again, catching his lip between your teeth and biting down, earning yourself a scowl.

When Strange pulled away, you could make out his dark pupils dilating in those icy blue eyes, a gaze full of lust, his lips parted with heavy breaths seeping through, red and swollen.

He didn't reply anything and let go for a moment to grab you hard by the shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You could hardly stop yourself from being shoved into the lockers again, bracing yourself up against them with your hands, back arched, displaying your ass to him quite nicely.

“Remember you asked for it”, he growled then, seeming amenable to give you what you what, pushing his hips into yours. Now you could definitely feel that Strange was hard, pressing up against the curve of your ass.

You reveled in the feeling for a moment, fearing that it might be gone in the blink of an eye, but something told you he wasn't going to let it go now. He wouldn't back down, not after this amount of disrespect.

As it happened to be, without a single precaution, he nearly ripped your underwear off you, leaving you entirely bare and in anticipation of whatever he was going to do to next. You were shuddering, the cold of the room brushing over your body, goosebumps forming, but remained standing steady even as the doctor's hands returned to you.

Skilled surgeons hands, kneading your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, as fingers delved between them, brushing over your needy hole. Even just the touch made your breath hitch, feeling his fingertips circling the sensitive ring of muscles, and god, your cock was already stirring in interest, leaking a pathetic trickle of precum.

How was he turning you on this much?

"Do you have any idea how much you rile me up all the fucking time? How often you make me want to bend you over the operating table? How much I want to teach you a lesson whenever you're getting snappy in the OR? You're such a damn brat, it makes me wanna do all kinds of things to you", Strange mewled into your ear, kissing the spot behind it, moving down to suck hard on your neck again, bruising you, biting you, “I bet you'll look so pretty on my cock. Gonna fuck you raw, would you like that?”

"You owe it to me, Strange", you moaned, surprised by his words. Him? Riled up by you? Wanting to bend him over? Wanting to discipline him? For how long had he been having these fantasies?

He didn't leave you much time to go on wondering. You heard the man spit then, feeling a trickle of wetness being spread around your hole, a single digit easing into you, accompanied by the slight burn of the stretch, though not unfamiliar.

Would have been better with preparation, but this would do. You would let him fuck you like this.

"I knew you were gonna be a real cockslut", the doctor mused but seemed to be a man of his word, spreading more of his spit over your hole, working you open with precise movements, like one would expect from someone with such skilled hands. Two fingers in, you couldn't have cared any less if anyone found the two of you like this. You were gone and beyond as those fingers found your sweet spot, their intrusion leaving a nice burning stretch, then brushing over your prostate, making your cock jolt in response, a moan slipping passed your lips.

"Gosh, can't you just fuck me already?", you begged, thighs already shaking from the stimulation, especially the way he seemed so keen on prodding your prostate all over again.

"Oh, we're getting there and I'll make sure you'll remember it well", Strange growled at you, pulling his fingers back, "Gonna make you feel me all night, all day, all week. Every time you get in here, every time you see me in the OR, you'll think of this.”

It sounded more like a promise than a threat though. You just knew Strange would fuck you unforgettably well. It wouldn't matter how rough or angry it would be, and you craved to feel it all week, even just as a reminder that you had fucked Stephen Strange, out of all people.

"Stop talking so much", you bit back, feeling the tip of the doctor's cock gently nudging your hole, smearing more spit and his own precum all over you, before finally pushing in, the intrusion of his impressive length making you gasp.

The long-awaited stretch of a cock inside of you was sudden and damn, Strange was filling you out good, to the point where you certainly needed a moment to adjust to all his girth and might, finding it hard to breathe.

Balling your hands into fists, you took deep breaths through your nose, but pressed back into him, making sure to allow all of the man in. “G-god, knew you'd have a huge cock”, you huffed out, eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it would do nothing but stroke his ego. However you just didn't care about the size of it anymore now that he was fully sheathed inside of you, leaving you rather focused on the size of something else.

"Fuck, you're damn tight", the doctor groaned, stilling inside of you for a moment, noticing that you needed the time to get used to him, which was in some way almost kind. His large, precise hands came to rest on your waist, holding onto you, absentmindedly stroking the skin there.

"Already regretting this?", he mocked, fingers squeezing into the softness of your flesh, but didn't start moving yet.

"No", you huffed, unashamed to add the next comment as you deemed yourself more than ready, "And you should start moving before I get bored."

That certainly stirred up a fire in Strange again, though perhaps less out of anger and frustration, now shrouded with desire and lust and the challenge to make you feel all of him. He began moving painstakingly slow at first, pulling slightly back before thrusting into you without holding back, and then settled quickly on fucking you hard and deep, filling you out so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot within you immediately.

The two of you were soon enough in a complete trance, Strange's eager and hard thrusts, his cock stretching you out all over again, both of you moaning and groaning and panting heavily, your legs almost giving in as the rapid strokes sent a shudder through your entire body, the metal of the locker doors rattling under the sheer force of your coupling.

You couldn't focus on anything else than the waves of pleasure all through your body, the thought that you liked being used by Strange like this, how glad you were the anger and the frustration was fucked right out of you by the exact man who had riled you up like that in the first place. A man you riled up just as much, who had apparently waited to put you into your place for a long time now.

The grip on your hips was bruising, Strange's mouth must have left marks all over your neck, your shoulders, your upper back, as he kept on latching onto you everywhere he could reach – and you would most certainly feel the sting of being stretched out so wonderfully whenever you would try to sit down the next few days. You found it harder and harder to keep yourself upright, still bracing yourself against the lockers.

As you could feel your orgasm beginning to hit hard, crawling up your spine, white hot flashes etching in your brain, you quickly reached down to grab your painfully hard cock, tugging on yourself as the hard thrusts into you sent you over the edge, your hole clenching around the man's length, eager to keep him in place, trapping him inside of you.

Strange made an ungodly noise as you tightened around him, slumping forwards against your back and coming to his own undoing. With his head coming to rest on shoulder, cock buried within you to the hilt, he spilled himself inside of you, holding onto you as both your orgasms completely ruled over you.

It took you a while to come down from that high. The rush of passion and adrenaline had long passed, your head found some clearance again.

You sighed loudly, breathing hard, sweaty and definitely in need of a shower now. There was a distinctive ache in your body and you grew awfully aware he was still inside of you.

Strange's arm came around your middle and he simply held onto you instead of drawing away. You almost found yourself a little puzzled when the man nuzzled your neck, placing an almost gentle kiss on it, and even more so by the way you weren't fully disliking his embrace.

He asked you an odd question then too. You hadn't expected it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I am", you answered after a moment of silence, only now noticing the mess you had made, your own cum having spurted onto one of the lockers, on the floor, covering your hand too. Even though you were sticky and kinda sore, it made you grin. He'd sure fucked you good.

You were definitely going to feel the burn for days to come and would not forget about your interaction any time soon. You sure hoped that neither would he.

"Are you?", you asked him, not even knowing why you were trying to respond with the same kindness. It didn't match the situation at all, didn't match the smell of sex hanging in the air, didn't match the fact you had literally just fucked your frustration out of each other, the argument entirely dissolved – for Lord's sake, you could feel his cum trickling down your thighs, once Strange eased his hold and pulled out of you, and yet you were chatting each other up so casually.

"More than", the doctor admitted, "I think we settled that argument at least."

You wriggled out of his grip, turning around in his arms, facing the man that now seemed a lot more relaxed and calm, not angry or upset anymore in the slightest, though just as messy and disheveled as yourself.

The tension had just been whiffed away.

"We did", you mused, oddly talkative after just getting your brain fucked out.

You pondered whether to say something else, whether to just shut up and go your ways, whether to confront him about what had just happened and what it would mean for the two of you.

He was still looking at you, questioning, perhaps even waiting for you to add something. So after a slight pause, you did.

"What happened in the OR today was unfortunate. What you said made me angry and sure, you're an arrogant asshole and I don't agree with the things you do sometimes. I get annoyed by you on the regular, but I didn't actually mean it when I said that I hate you. If anything, I'm kind of surprised by you.”

“Why, didn't think I'd dare to fuck you?”, Strange chuckled, probably unsure what you were meaning to tell him – you didn't quite know yourself – and no longer looked at you in disapproval, but like he was in good spirits. There was this cockiness to him again, something to usually disliked, though in the afterglow it more so wanted to make you smile.

“Well yeah”, you shrugged, “Didn't think you'd be interested.”

“I was pissed off after fucking up and then of course it had to be you approaching me. So as I've said... I've been feeling some type of way about you before. I shouldn't have said you're incompetent, because you're not. I find you irritating and annoying. You are a brat, no doubt, and I've wanted to fuck that out of you for a long time. Didn't think you'd let me, especially not that way. It was kinda hot", he replied nonchalantly, bending down to pick up both your underwear from the ground, handing yours over.

“So you're saying you're actually into me?”

“I said I wanted to put you in your place and fuck you, which I just did. But maybe, just maybe, Christine is right after all and I should get to know you."

"Funny. She told me the same thing", you responded, opening your locker to grab a towel and the bag with toiletries, thinking that you would now definitely have to hit the showers, needing to get rid of all your traces, at least the once you could get rid of. Your skin was stinging was his marks and you sure were sore. But damn, hadn't that been just worth it.

It was weird to suddenly see Strange in such a different light.

"Well, considering she might have a point, we cleared the air, we both know the sex will be good... maybe we could go for a coffee sometime?", he asked, picking his own stuff from the locker.

"Asking me on a date now, Doctor Strange?", you wondered, looking him over in all his naked glory and musing whether it would really be a good idea to get to know him beyond the OR, not quite knowing where the change of heart came from all of the sudden. Couldn't have just been the sex, could it?

You had always felt some type of way about Stephen Strange. It usually hadn't been very positive and it didn't help you faced a bunch of conflicting feelings now, not knowing what to make of this.

He would certainly make for another good fuck, you had no doubts about that, and it would be worth it, if going for a coffee together meant getting to fuck him in a proper bed some day. Strange would certainly still make you mad and put you off plenty of times, especially with his attitude and all, but as had been proven today, it definitely ensured some hot sex.

Could it be more than just sex one day? Maybe it was a bit too early to think about that.

"Would it be that weird if I was? I already fucked you, so I might as well go on a coffee date with you", Strange shrugged, looking you over in return, eyes raking over you like he could have devoured you another time right there, right then.

"Look at you being all chivalrous. Do you even know my first name, doctor?", you couldn't repress the cheeky question.

"Don't be silly, I can read a name tag. Though I think, brat suits you just fine", the older man stated, giving you a wink and a cocky smile, before throwing the towel over his shoulder and heading off to the bathroom.

Stephen Strange sure was a man to behold.

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