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sanspuppet · 1 year ago

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𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 (hyung line)

W/T: explicit content (18+)

- short scenario for each member

- not proofread so sorry any mistakes

A/O: here's some hard thoughts of my fav men, maknae line will be uploaded soon! sorry if the hwa one isn't as long as the others, dragged away a little too much by the yeosang one 🤭

read here the maknae line

✩ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

He's never tried to make you uncomfortable by mentioning sexual stuff, he wanted you to do the first move so he'd be sure you want it. Can't deny that it was pretty difficult to hold your horses when your boyfriend is a fucking hot guy, his smirk always has a specific effect on you, you also touched yourself a couple times thinking of him, when he was at work. You were quite shy to propose it, but this morning, seeing his boner standing under the blanket got you over the edge, you surely want him and you gotta take what you crave for. You sit on his lap with him still asleep, how can he be so damn gorgeous without even trying? he's fucking sleeping and he still seems a work of art. You start to dry hump yourself against his crotch, your lower lip between your teeth trying to hold back your whimpers. He slightly opens his eyes at the sudden friction, he stretched his arms yawning lazily: "Y/n..." once he realizes what you were actually doing his eyes open wide, his heartbeat accelerating at the sight of you grinding over his hips. "Joong... wanna take you right now, pretty please" you lean over him to leave a small kiss on his lips, your hands caressing his neck. You smile when he giggles, his hands dragging down your body, while kissing you back. "Happy to have you getting rid of my erection, love"

✩ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

Your relationship with Seonghwa was intimate, private times with him never missed, and he also had seen you barely naked a few times, but still you had nothing more than cuddles sessions. You arrive at home at late night, after a date with your boyfriend. You're about to head towards the bathroom to took your makeup off and brush your teeth, when he comes from behind holding your hips still. He approaches your ear, his sweet low voice whispering: "We're not done yet, sweetie" you turn yourself and face him with a smirk: "Oh, what did we miss?" he gets closer to you, noses a couple of inches far. "gotta ruin your lipstick first" you take his hand and drag it down your body, going slower when on your chest and stopping when they are between you thighs, his hand is shaking, you can feel his heartbeat accelerating while squeezing his wrist: "What about ruining something else?" he murmurs a small "fuck" before kissing you on your collarbone, biting your skin slightly. "Can’t wait to be inside you, baby"

✩ 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

He could seem a tall cute baby boy, but in reality he perfectly knows he's a fucking horny man. who goes crazy everytime you wear short skirts and accidentally reveal him the under cheeks of your ass, he immediately develops the need of pin you at the wall and finally feel how good your pussy can take him, despite you looked too innocent to be able to do it. (You looked). You walk towards the living room, wearing only your underwear and one of his sweaters. you lay on the couch on your stomach and start watching tv, after some minutes, you hear your boyfriend walking in and suddenly stop. You shake your head, chuckling: "Stop staring at my ass, man" You hear him gasping from behind, he clears his throat coughing: "uhm... i wasn't..." you turn yourself, laying on your back, staring at him while a smirk took its was into your face: "why don't you just take your girlfriend and mark her?" he doesn't say anything, his body's blocked. "i noticed how you keep staring at me with those pretty eyes" you keep saying. he quickly reaches you, his body on top of yours, his hands wrapping around your waist: "i want you so fucking bad baby" you shake your index finger to him: "you should ask for it first" you tease him. "please let me fuck your pretty ass"

✩ 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Yeosang has never showed you that side of him, which it quite surprised you, being a grown man just like others. You even thought that he wasn't physically attracted by you, what a silly, he is just a shy guy and he isn't certainly as innocent as you thought. You're walking through the hallway of your apartment, but suddenly stop when you hear weird noises coming through the bathroom. You bring your ear closer to the door, what you can hear now is something that seem apparently a squelching sound. Your breath stops as you figure out what is happening in there, you're about to ask at Yeosang if he's okay, but you can clearly hear is voice now booming inside the room: "Fuck- o-oh God, mmpphh fuck! wanna feel that tight pussy..." you wide your eyes, your mouth hangs open from hearing how hot his moans sound. "Ah... y/n.. f-fuck oh fuck! So close! Working this dick so well... shit!" you can tell that he's speeding up his pace by hearing clearly every single nasty sound he makes while stroking his cock. You can't contain yourself anymore: you shut the door open, finding your boyfriend sitting on the toilet while jerking off. He gasps, his heavy breath making his chest widen intensely, he looks at you with a mist of shame, fear and neediness to finish what he started. "What the fuck Yeo? I'm right here, why didn't you fuck me instead??" without even waiting for him to say anything you undress yourself and sit on his lap, taking his length at once inside you. He moans loudly your name, barely looking at you because already too fucked out. "Gonna let you know how good my pussy feel"

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poppy-metal · 5 months ago

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moot said sm abt art letting out a moan when he pisses in the morning and now im thinking of having that be your fantasy - wanting art to piss on you - but he's so embarrassed about it, the act so degrading he doesn't know if he can bring himself to do it - but he wants to please you so bad and you look genuinely discouraged when he makes a face when you bring it up, he's quick to reassure you its just something he has to think about more. honestly, he'd be more into you pissing on him - that feels more right, in his eyes. it also kinda brings the curtain down around this shiny image he held of you, this sweet girl who liked missionary sex and holding hands - you were secretly touching yourself to the sound of him pissing into the toilet every morning? he doesn't know what to do with that.

arts done alot to keep patrick out of his relationship with you - hes stingy about it. protective of you - for what, he doesn't know now - some deep rooted worry that you'd want patrick more, like every girl does. but he can't stop thinking about it. and patrick notices him brooding. and art knows - knows patrick is, well. more liberated when it comes to sex than art is. has more experience. is less romantic about the whole thing. so he caves.

"have you ever...... um. has a girl ever wanted you to - you know -" he makes a gesture with his hands, flushing.

"cum on her tits? yeah, loads of tim-"

"no not cum - the other. the other thing. that, uh. comes out."

"piss? you mean piss?"

"yeah."

patrick stares at art long enough for art to squirm. "fuck off. it was a question, alright? forget it."

but patrick is grinning now - "holy shit."

"stop it."

"your girlfriend wants a golden shower?"

"that's disgusting - "

"give me your phone."

"what? no. why?"

"i need to see this chick."

"i introduced you months ago, patrick."

"yeah, and i fucking forgot. hand it over -"

art pretends hes annoyed but he surrenders his phone regardless into patricks outstretched hand. thumbs flying over the keypads to find his gallery. art scratches behind his ear, still blushing, wondering if it was a mistake to bring it up. he feels guilty he basically outted this kink of yours to his friends when its private. he wonders if you tell your friends he likes it when you spit in his mouth. flushes more at the thought. god, is he a shit boyfriend?

patrick lets out a low whistle. "shit - how'd i forget those tits -"

"alright -" art snatches his phone back, pocketing it. "lets just drop it, yeah?"

patrick doesn't drop it though. in fact he has a long conversation with art that evening.

and the next time you're in the college cafě, getting a blueberry scone, you jolt when you feel an arm brush yours. are startled to look up and see patrick zweig already looking down at you. he nudges your shoulder with his. nods to your scone, and then his plate. "I got it."

you're not one to argue with free stuff. patricks loaded anyway, so you nod. you look around him. "is art with you?" he was supposed to meet you for lunch.

"we're going to meet him." patrick pays for your stuff and turns to you, walking backwards into the cafeteria. he jerks his head, "come with me."

you do, hesitantly. as you walk beside him, you catalog him. of course, you know him. but you dont really know him, know him. he's arts best friend, and a bit of a tennis prodigy, if one that might burn out too quickly if he doesn't regulate himself soon.

still. you aren't around him much, you think because arts worried you'll cheat on him if left alone with patrick for too long. and you get patricks appeal - hes tall and athletic - more filled out than art is yet, he has that whole devil may care kind of look to him, mussed up hair. a smirking pink mouth. something about the way he carries himself, too. confident and assured. its..... hot. you can admit that.

but you love are. you're in love with art. and its for the ways that hes opposite to patrick, that you do. hes a golden aura. a beam of sunlight where patrick screams night - he's soft and kind and he cares about you. he thinks about you. he considers you. he's not shy, but he's soft spoken. he listens. he's like a lazy river - or a fluffy cloud.

patrick leads you up the bleachers to one of the outside tennis cours, and you look out - spot art practicing with someone on the other side of the net. he doesn't see either of you yet, and you dont call out to him. you like watching him play. his precision and grace.

you sit near the top row of metal slats and patrick sits one row below you, so he can prop his legs out and spread his arms behind him on the one you're sitting on. "you sit like a third grader." you tell him, which is true. all sprawled out with his big long limbs.

patrick tips his head back to look at you. green eyes spark - he has a water bottle that he tips back and pulls a long swallow from. you dont watch his adams apple bob.

"i need alot of space to air my shit out." he parts his thighs wider as if to cement that statement and you try not to notice the way his shorts slide down his thick tan legs. they bunch all the way nearly down to his crotch.

"classy." you tell him. picking at your muffin as you stare out at art again. when he hits the ball, he jumps. his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of pale skin and you rub your bottom lip. mouth filling with saliva because you know what that skin tastes like, feels like, under your tongue. like faint salt, and soft toned muscle.

"you'd know all about being classy wouldn't you?"

something about the way he says it - like there's a hidden meaning, makes you glance back down at him. hes still looking at you.

he's rolling his water bottle sideways up and down his thigh, and he looks like he wants to say something else, but it'll make him laugh, so he doesn't.

you squint. "huh?"

one side of his mouth quirks up. he takes another swig from his bottle - looks out over the courts and shrugs.

well, no.

you swat at his shoulder, irritated, he's pulled you in somehow. "what does that mean?"

he shrugs again - holding a mouthful of water. he swishes it from side to side as he looks up at you. swallows it slowly. holds his mostly empty bottle up and taps your knee with the open lid - "just means you're not as innocent as we all thought."

your eyebrows draw together. your stomach does a little flip. you have the distinct feeling he's making fun of you. like hes in on something you're not apart of.

you settle on, "whose we?"

green eyes flit back to the court - you follow and you find art again. he's turned from his opponent, using the end of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. he fishes a sports drink from his bag and downs nearly all of it in one go. as hes wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he turns slightly, casually taking in his surroundings. you can tell the moment he spots you and patrick because he freezes. his wrist still at his lips. he doesn't wave. you dont either.

you look back at patrick. hes still looking out at art.

"you and art...." you start. "you talk about me? together?"

patrick takes his time turning back to look at you. he seems to be communicating something across the distance to art. he says, without looking "uh huh." and when you shove his shoulder with your knee, he finally gives you his full attention. bad idea. something about him - you feel - like prey or something. you dont know. pinned under his gaze. "art tells me everything."

he puts emphasis on everything, and lets that sink in for you, which it does. slowly.

because there's really only one thing you've brought up with art recently that would be anything worth the dramatics of this. you feel your cheeks fill with blood. your gut pitch with shame.

"i -" you look down at your shoes. pink sneakers. with a frog sticker art had given you, because you like frogs and you told him that and so he got you a sticker of one. "um."

"hey, its cool." a warm hand pats your knee. "its why i wanted to talk to you."

your head jerks up. you shy away from his touch. you want to look out for art and signal him over but you dont know what to feel about him talking about that..... with patrick.

"really." patrick says your name, softly this time so you'll look at him. "im not making fun of you." he tongues the inside of his cheek, half smiling. "i think its hot, actually."

you do glance out for art now. he's back in position, but he keeps shooting glances over where you sit. you swallow. "you do?"

"fuck yeah -" he says it with such conviction that you believe him. "the way you look like you read five verses of the bible before bed and sign the cross over your chest before you give head just makes the fact that you want some depraved shit like that fucking sexy."

you shift around on the bench. you feel at once, buoyant with the praise and wrong for liking it so much.

"i dont know if art sees me that way." you fiddle with your fingers. "i think he thinks its gross - that im. weird."

"art is very repressed sexually." patrick states this like he knows this very well. and well, yeah, you cant exactly dispute it, can you. "but he's a fucking freak, trust me. I've seen his porn history."

you want to see his porn history. god. you want to know every depraved undignified thought arts ever had.

"i think that's why i want him to-" you flush. "to do that. because he's so.... good. and i want. i dunno - i guess i want him to act more shameless with me - maybe that weird - like i want to corrupt him or something -"

"it's hot." patrick interrupts. and you look at eachother. and you see a kind of kinship in him, thats in you. a kind of.... love for the depravity. of wanting to introduce people like art to it. "give me your phone."

he takes it from you before you even hand it to him. he fiddles with it, and you take the time to admire all the freckles on his sunkissed cheeks. he slips it back to you. grins.

"what did you do?"

"gave you my number." he stands. shoulders his own bag - caps his waterbottle. "art's gonna chew your ass out in a minute, sorry about that. I'll be in touch, though." and he's bounding down the bleachers before you can say anything, giving art one of those aggressive, half hug, half wrestle moves as he passes.

you blink - startled to realize art has finished up. his bag is over his shoulder and he's making his way up to you. he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"did you give patrick your number?"

"he wanted it for notes he forgot to take, i think." you lie. stand up. greet your boyfriend who you want to piss in your mouth and on your tits, with a kiss. "hes a nice guy."

"mm" is all art says.

and maybe you should have been more mad that art went behind your back to talk about something you shared in confidence. maybe you would have been, if you hadn't shared something secret with patrick too - a plan of sorts. you'd feel more guilty about it if you weren't so turned on by the thought.

and can you really be mad, when it works out so beautifully. after one of arts matches - where you'd so sweetly been on the sidelines to give art water between his sets. when patrick had rushed him out the door in the morning with no time for a bathroom break.

its almost too perfect the way you both corner him in the locker room after. when hes desperate and about to burst. bladder full and heavy from all the water he'd consumed.

when patrick blocks him and corners him in the shower, twists his arms behind his naked back, you're there in a flash. a look of betrayal flashes in arts eyes, but its quickly replaced by desperation when patrick reaches around him and grips his cock.

the whine he lets out is long and pained. "no - dont -" he gasps.

you cant really be mad at art for going behind your back at all because you aren't sure if he could ever bring himself to do this on his own. you tell him that, with coaxing hands up his trembling thighs. looking up at him in utter adoration as you tongue the pink slit of his cock. "its okay, baby." you tell him. naked and kneeling before him, licking licking licking at his tip, until you coax out a bead of piss, just a drop. and you moan as you close your lips around his head and suck it into your mouth like honey.

art sobs. he knees wobbling with the force to keep his urine from flooding out into your mouth. "stop -" he pants. "i cant hold it it - if you - if you keep - oh god -"

"she said its okay, man." patrick coos. licks the shell of arts ear. his hand comes down to press against arts pelvis. "look at her." art forces himself to. "thats your girlfriend, dude. she's fucking hot - and shes naked on her knees for you in a lockeroom shower after you fucking dominated that match. and all she wants." the heel of patricks hand digs in. "is to soak up all that piss you've been holding onto for her."

another little drop of piss slides down your throat and art gasps. his hands weakly come to press on your head, fingers curling in your hair. hes giving in. looking down at you with near awe in his expression instead of his earlier fear and panic. pink lips parted.

"dont you wanna see her swallow it?" patrick breathes. "fuckin rub it into her tits - you can do anything to her. she's fucking yours man - so why dont you be a man and fucking stake your claim, huh?"

that's what does it.

art groans, eyes nearly rolling back in ecstacy. right before he releases, he knock away patricks hand from his dick, grips himself by the base, and uses his other hand to keep a grip on your hair.

the tip of his cock, flushed and throbbing, rests on your fat bottom lip, "its coming - " he chokes, tightens his grip on your hair, "fucking take it -"

and then it explodes out of him all at once. a thick pulsing stream of hot piss pours into your mouth, half of it going right down your throat, while the other half splashes down your chin, flooding down your chest, between the valley of your breasts.

the moan art lets out if pornographic. his legs weak as jelly as his bladder unloads in a yellow stream that soaks you nearly from head to foot.

it seems to go on forever. both art and patrick seem entranced by the sight. the way you moan and swallow what initially went down your throat. gasp when it hits your chest like it actually feels good.

art feels another part of his brain click on. whir to life.

"s-stick your fucking tits out." he grunts, still whiney. but you listen anyway. pushing your chest out towards them, your nipples hard and on display.

art bites his lip. angles his cock so the rest of his stream splashes wetly over your hard nipples. he trails the rest of it down your stomach and - most blodly - the last of it hits your pussy - you whine when it does.

"of fuck." patrick grunts when he sees it.

when the flow peeders out, you pant like you ran a marathon. buzzing with electricity.

art looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing hes ever seen in his life. on your knees soaked in his filth.

patrick has to reach down and grip himself.

"c'mere" art calls to you, holding out his arms. you fumble and stumble into them. wet chest smashing into his. he doesn't seem to care. his hands are feverish as they run down your back. cup and squeeze the globes of your ass. he licks into your mouth and you're both moaning into eachother. tongues smacking wetly.

patrick rolls his eyes. turns on the shower to its hottest setting. which is just warm for a lockeroom shower.

"you two freaks come over here," he calls out, stepping into the warm spray. "you both smell like fucking piss."

you giggle against arts mouth.

yeah. maybe you're glad he told your secret after all.

#poppy speaks #WHY IS THIS SO LONG ??????#piss does something to a woman.#patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut #tw: piss

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lesbianwyllravengard · 10 months ago

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CRYING MY STUPID LITTLE EYES OUT HOLY FUCK THIS IS SO GORGEOUS I CANNOT TAKE THIS I'M SOBBING INTO MY HANDS I LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU

for @hamartia-grander ‘s fic Another Time 🧡

this scene in the epilogue got me 🙃 i love them.

#The bite mark.... Lordylordkfjrkfuslahdjehejdshaurhe I am unwell how could you do this to me <- literally wrote the bite mark happening #This is literally so beautiful I cannot stop staring at it #I sent this to my friends literally 20 minutes ago and I've just been staring at it since #You are literally the lifeline of this fic istg #It wouldn't be half as good without your incredible art bringing it to life #I'm so thankful for you like this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done and I can't stop crying over it #It's literally perfect #Also ->#and again.. might not be the same looks you had in mind ( i could not for the life of me remember if Leon was blonde)#but its the brain image I got in mind #a little grown out blonde lol #and they might’ve been wearing clothes lol #<- no you're absolutely correct always Leon was def still blonde in the fic and they never wear shirts to bed it's canon #HAJDHSKAHD #Even if that wasn't the case it is now you are always right 🫡#Literally in tears over this I'm not joking there are literal physical tears running down my face right now #It's so fucking beautiful #I need this tattooed on the back of my eyelids #God #I will never recover from this #I will be thinking about this for the rest of my life #Serennedy

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harksness · 3 months ago

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Distraction

A/N: i suffer from severe agatha harkness brainrot 24 hrs a day 7 days a week. i also couldnt help but make this one a little sweet too ajsadkgj im so down bad for her

the request!

Warnings: hand kink, quickie, slight mommy kink bcs im a hoe who can't write smut with agatha without working that in at least a little bit. lmk if i missed any warnings as per usual <3

WC: 3.5k

You find every little thing about Agatha to be insanely attractive. How could you not? She’s absolutely perfect. Her smooth, sultry voice and calculated words. Her pretty blue eyes that always seem to have that mischievous glint to them. Her tempting pink lips that are almost always quirked into that evil little smirk of hers. And oh God her hair, her wild hair you could play with for hours.

She's ethereal. Agatha Harkness is the definition of beauty and all of its synonyms. Alluring, lovely, heavenly, ravishing, irresistible, beauteous, divine, bewitching and as ravishing as they come. Something pulled right out of your dreams, or some grand work of art.

But something about her hands just stuck out to you. They drove you crazy.

Her long, nimble fingers.. Watching how deftly they work her magic, the fluid movements she makes with them always has you biting your lip and wondering if she’d repeat those same movements elsewhere.

As if you didn’t have a hard enough time keeping your eyes off of her hands, all of those pretty rings she found recently aren’t helping. They draw more of your attention to how skilled she is with her long digits, the soft silver, the pretty jewels and carvings into the metal always catching your attention. The problem is that once that happens, you just can’t seem to get your attention off of them.

You clear your throat, catching yourself staring at her hands… Again. Reluctantly, you refocus your attention back to the meeting at hand as you quickly cast your gaze over all of the people sitting around you, Agatha’s voice background noise.

Your lover finds your gaze as she’s speaking to the group, sending a quick wink your way.

Immediately you feel your cheeks flushing when you realize that’s her way of telling you that you’ve been caught red handed. Billy, of course, catches on right away with a little gasp as he raises his hand into the air, a sly grin overtaking his features as he interrupts Agatha.

“Can you two stop flirting with each other for five minutes? It’s so distracting for the rest of the class.”

You pinch your lips together at his words. Ever since you two became a thing and he figured out about your relationship, he’s really taken to the two of you as his “gay aunties”, loving to tease you every chance he gets about your sappy romance.

There’s a few beats of dead silence in the room as everyone waits for Agatha to say something.

“What are you talking about?”

She’s so obviously just trying to mess with the younger wiccan.

But still, even knowing this you try so hard not to smack your hand to your forehead at her response. She’s had over three hundred years to master the art of snappy comebacks and witty one liners, her charisma is off the charts. You’d personally say she’s more skilled with how she uses her words in conversation than magic itself, it’s one of her greatest weapons.. But that’s what she decided to say?

“Really.”

Billy says, less of a question and more of a statement. You release a big sigh, and you can feel Rio rolling her eyes from the spot next to you.

“I mean.. Of course I can’t go five minutes without flirting with my girl.. Have you seen how gorgeous she is? How impossibly perfect?”

Agatha says, gesturing towards you dramatically. You’re surprised that you haven’t passed out from the amount of blood rushing to your cheeks, a bashful smile crossing your lips at how outspoken and dorky she is.

“Eugh! You two are too cute.. I need to go vomit…”

Billy is smiling regardless of his teasing.

“Oh! Absolutely feel free to do so! Meet back here in ten minutes!”

Agatha claps her hands together excitedly, a puzzled look crossing the boy's features.

“I was only joking..”

No one seems to pay any attention to the words he mumbled under his breath. Agatha was just so eager to take him up on the offer.

She’s being so dramatic with her hands- waving them around and gesturing so much more than usual. Not many other people would notice, considering how dramatic Agatha just is as a person, but you do.

Rio rolls her eyes at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You two are worse than lovesick teenagers.. Disgusting.”

You smile softly, watching Agatha shoot you a look before she leaves the room, her gaze lingering against yours as she quirks an eyebrow at you suggestively. Slowly she presses down on the door handle and pushes it open, the door swinging closed behind her a moment later with a soft click.

“I know, it’s so disgusting…”

You’re barely paying attention as you get up to follow your witch. You cross the room, winding between the fold out chairs and the women stretching and mulling about as they take advantage of their free time. Pushing the door open, you scan the room quickly before finding her leaning on a wall across from you.

“Sooo…”

She starts as you approach, holding her hands out in front of herself, as if examining her nails. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly at her incessant teasing.

“Someone seems to be fixating on my hands..”

Agatha holds them up, palms facing her as she wiggles her ringed fingers at you, and wiggling her eyebrows to match. You roll your eyes playfully.

“No..”

You simply say, once again as you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. She lets out a disappointed hum.

“Shame. Because if you were.. I was going to suggest that we go into the back room and take your mind off of my hands for a little bit.. And put my hands on something else…”

Agatha implies suggestively, your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen at her suggestion.

“With everyone in the next room?!”

You hiss at her in surprise, terrified that someone was going to walk in on your conversation, let alone catch the two of you in the act. She shrugs, indifferent.

“Two rooms over.”

You watch for a moment as she slowly saunters over to the next door, leaning against it with her back to push it open and hold it ajar for a moment. She raises her wrist, shrugging down her sleeve to check her watch as two strands of her curly brown hair fall over her features, blue eyes lidded as she looks down.

“Eight minutes..”

She trails off suggestively, and that’s all you need to remind yourself this isn’t a daydream as you run after her, following her into the dingy little storage room.

The door falls shut. It’s dark, and you’re about to start groping around for a light when suddenly a warm orange glow fills the room with a little click as Agatha pulls on the string hanging from the lightbulb on the ceiling.

The room is filled with random boxes and equipment piled up and leaning on the walls, and conveniently- a worn, plush, yellow chair that used to sit out in the main room. You raise an eyebrow at Agatha as she plops herself into it, leaning back and spreading her legs as she leans one arm on the armrest, the other coming up to her mouth as she bites one of her gaudy rings.

Her hair is piled on top of her head, two strings of hair hanging in her face. Her coat is unbuttoned and fanning to the sides as the purple fabric of her nice dress pants stretch around her soft thighs perfectly.

She’s smirking around the ring she’s biting, eyebrow quirked curiously as she gazes up at you with her mischievous blue eyes. Agatha pats her thigh invitingly.

“Come have a seat, baby.”

You could’ve melted into the ground right then and there.

You’re sure you look a lot less put together and sexy as she does as you basically scramble to jump into her lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushion of the chair as you straddle her thighs. She smiles warmly up at you, humming happily as a hand comes up to rest on your waist.

“Good girl..”

Agatha praises, looking up to meet your gaze as she trails a hand up your waist lovingly. Her other hand comes up to stroke at your thigh, sliding slightly up under the hem of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat.

She raises the hand from your waist, fingers curling around the back of your neck as her thumb caresses your cheek… The cold of her rings digging into your skin. You lean into the feeling.

“C’mere..”

Agatha speaks softly as she pulls you down to meet her lips, your eyes fluttering closed as her soft lips move against yours. You hum into the kiss, raising your hands to rest on her shoulders.

She runs her hand further up your skirt, her soft skin smoothing over your hips and across your ass as she squeezes the plush skin lovingly. Your hands caress the exposed skin of her neck, toying with the loose hairs hanging from her bun.

Her warm hands run along the line of your lacy underwear, tracing back up over your hips, then down between your legs. Your breath hitches, breaking the kiss as a soft, breathy moan escapes your lips when her fingers trail downwards and start to grind her fingers up against your center. Gently she presses her fingers up against you, and you rock against her, little sighs of pleasure falling past your lips. Agatha’s eyes are lidded, but fixated on your features, her gaze flickering to your lips and her smile quirking upwards just the littlest bit every time you let out a desperate noise.

“You make the prettiest noises, angel..”

Agatha whispers against your skin as she starts to leave lingering kisses along the exposed skin of your neck. You raise your hand to cradle the back of her head as she presses her fingers into you more firmly, your hips rolling against her hand desperately as you toy with her hair.

“Mmm.. Ag’s, please.”

You plead into her hair, all you can focus on is the sparks of pleasure you’re receiving, just enough to keep working you up but not get you anywhere. Your features twist in frustration.

“What’s wrong baby, is this not enough?”

Leaning back, you notice the taunting smirk etched onto her lips. You narrow your eyes at her, unable to help the little pout that overtakes you.

“Please.. We don’t have a lot of time..”

Agatha hums in thought, moving her hand that was cradling your neck to wrap around your jaw. The metal of her rings have heated against your skin, and it feels good to have them bite into your cheek just a little bit as you press back against her hand.

“Oh, sweet pea, I know you can do better than that.”

She quirks an expectant brow at you and you know what you have to do.

“Please… Agatha I- I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and how good you are with your hands... I’m so desperate for it.. Mommy, please, I need you..”

You do your best to pour your heart out, knowing you sound like a scrambling mess, but also knowing Agatha loves it when you sound that way. When you're desperate and keening for her, and she always melts when you call her Mommy. You know her weakness just like she knows yours.

You were right because you can feel the air around her shift a little bit, her lips hanging open and blue eyes clouded with desire as she looks up at you.

“Such a good girl, baby..”

Agatha says lowly, crashing her lips onto yours one more time in a desperate, frantic kiss before she pulls back, splaying her fingers out as she makes a show of taking off her rings. Your eyes drop to her hands.

She pinches her fingers around one, twisting it to the side as she slowly drags it off of her long fingers before setting it on the armrest to her right. She repeats the action over and over, until a little line of rings is forming.

Once she has her dominant hand free of rings except for one, you grab her wrist shyly.

“Here.. Let me help..”

Agatha gazes up at you curiously as she waits to see what you’re going to do.

You carefully bend her fingers so that they’re all curling in towards her palm, her pointer finger the only one sticking out. You raise her hand to your mouth, biting down softly onto the chunky metal ring pressed down to her knuckle, and using your teeth, you slowly pull it off of her finger, dragging your tongue along her soft skin as you do.

She watches you intently, eyes locked onto your movements. When it’s off of her finger, you raise your head and take it from your mouth, placing it with her other rings, completing the little line. Agatha’s staring up at you with parted lips and a wide smile.

“Well, that was insanely hot..”

She says breathlessly before pulling you down to kiss her again, your lips melding as you moan into her mouth. You don’t think you could ever get tired of how good her smooth, warm mouth feels against your own as she claims you, quickly taking control of the kiss. You also don’t think you could ever get sick of her taking what she wants from you, because you’ll gladly give her anything and everything you can.

Agatha’s hand starts to travel up the plush inside of your thigh, running her fingers over your skin lovingly as she reaches your center once again. Pulling your underwear aside, you gasp against her lips as she runs her fingers through your wet folds, softly parting you and gathering your arousal on her fingertips before finding your clit.

“Oh my poor girl.. You really were so worked up just from looking at my hands and imagining what I could do to you with them, hm?”

She asks you with such a cocky grin on her face. You moan softly, desperately as she toys with you, experimentally drawing patterns over your clit before dragging her fingers back to your soaked entrance.

“Ohhh, oh yes…”

You let out a long moan as she gently, carefully eases one finger into you. She’s smirking up at you, leaning down to press sweet, wet kisses into your neck as she starts to move, experimentally, getting you used to her touches before she can really fuck you.

“I’ve really got a hold on you, don’t I?”

She speaks against your skin, shifting forward a bit as she carefully slips another finger into you, and you moan at the stretch. She curls them with every thrust, the pads of her long fingers brushing against your sweet spot with precision. You brace yourself, mouth falling open in a silent moan as you curl your fingers around the top of the chair, gripping it tightly as you begin to feel your orgasm building, tension winding in your abdomen.

“Haa.. Oh, yes, Ag’s.. You do, more than you know.. You’re my everything..”

You pant out desperately, the rough fabric of the old chair scratching your knees but you don’t care. Being the center of Agatha’s attention, being touched by her like this, is the most important thing in your world. It’s all you want and you’ll savor every moment of it. Rugburn can be a future you problem, and you won’t regret it one bit. You know you’ll smile at your scraped up knees when the injuries remind you of how you got them.

“Am I now?”

She has that taunting tone to her voice that you fear but also adore so much at the same time. You hum in agreement, nodding your head in affirmation as your eyes pinch shut, an overwhelming amount of pleasure starting to make you slip and lose control of your senses as she keeps working at your center.

“Oh- Shit!”

You gasp out a bit louder than intended, throwing your head back when you feel the familiar sensation on your clit- her magic pressing into your sensitive nub has you digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

“Please, baby.. Tell me more about how much you adore me..”

She ghosts her lips against your ear, working her fingers faster, lingering her thrusts so that they can curl against that sensitive spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You don’t know how much longer you’re going to last, you can feel your legs beginning to tremble. Agatha raises a hand under your skirt so that she can fondly caress your hip, her fingers savoring the soft feeling of your skin under her hand. You love her warm hand pressed against you, and the metal of her rings against your skin.

You’re letting out short and desperate moans of pleasure as you attempt to speak. You try to form a coherent sentence, but fail.

“You’re everything to me, Agatha… God.. Oh my God, you’re so perfect.. So beautiful… So, so good to me..”

You mumble out, your thighs tensing as you desperately try to focus your attention on keeping your balance. You can’t help it, all of the stimulation is so much, you can feel yourself tumbling towards the edge as you lean against the back of the chair. Agatha plants her lips against your neck, her free hand running over every inch of exposed skin she can reach as she speeds up her movements, your hips rocking intime with every thrust of her long fingers deep into your waiting cunt.

“Haa.. Oh, Agatha… You take such good care of me.. Ag’s.. Love you so much..”

She laughs softly against your skin, her tone laced with so much fondness and adoration.

“You can’t even form coherent sentences… I love seeing you like this.. My girl, so desperate for me and anything I’ll give… I love seeing you so wrapped around my finger..”

Agatha leans back to watch you as you become overwhelmed with the pleasure she’s giving you, to enjoy the mess she’s made of you as you desperately paw for her. You whimper out as you nod your head, feeling the pressure on your clit intensify. Your lips for a wide o, your movements becoming frantic as you rock against her hand, but her movements remain controlled and steady to guide you through your high.

“Yes! Yes I am! Yes, anything.. Anything, Ag’s..”

You babble mindlessly, your nails digging painfully hard into the soft fabric of the chair, nearly biting into the wood underneath.

“Oh! Cumming! Oooh..”

You moan out, your movements sloppy against her hand as you feel electric pleasure shoot through you. You tense up, your thighs trying to clamp shut but finding themselves unable to, so instead they just violently tremble as Agatha guides you through your orgasm, peppering sweet kisses up and down your neck, an arm wrapping around your waist to support you and a smile toying on her lips as she talks you through..

“Such a good girl for me, baby… Oh, you’re so pretty when you cum.. I could never get sick of seeing you like this.. So pretty..”

You let out a pathetic hum as you collapse and melt into her lap, your body limp and exhausted as you relax. Agatha guides you to lay against her chest as she slips her fingers out of you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you as close to her as possible.

“Oh, sweet girl.. You did so good for me..”

She speaks into your hair, leaving little kisses along your head as she guides you to lay against her chest. You smile, burying your face into her neck, trying to take in as much of her as you can.

“Mmmm.. You also did so good for me..”

You cast her a knowing look and she grins in response.

“Happy to be of service.”

You’re desperately trying to catch your breath as Agatha lovingly runs her hands along your body, petting your hair into place, giving you little kisses wherever she can reach to help you calm down and catch your breath. You’re mushy, overflowing with love for the older woman as you wrap your arms around her middle and bury your face into her neck.

Suddenly there's an insistent knocking on the wooden door.

“Okay, lovebirds… Or horndogs.. We’ve been waiting on you two for twenty minutes. Make yourself decent and come on out.”

Rio’s familiar voice calls from the other side of the door, agitation lacing every word.. You groan out, embarrassed as Agatha laughs.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness/reader #agatha harkness reader insert #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader smut #smut #wlw smut

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

Note

HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ��️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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strawberries-and-summer-days · 8 months ago

Text

MIDNIGHT TROUBLES

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing, fluff (i guess?) angst, mentions to the giggidy (nothing actually happens), derogatory terms/names used

A/N: i was sleep deprived and cluelesss when writing this so enjoy :)

part two: meet me at midnight | part three: its not midnight anymore

You've been friends with Luke Castellan since the day you showed up at camp drenched in water and he showed you around. You've been inseparable since then - y/n and Luke. Luke and y/n, you were a package deal, wherever one went the other followed.

On this particular day you had seated yourself down on a sunny patch of grass to sing. Luke had settled himself a few feet away from you pretending not to listen as your lips parted and sound sweeter than any strawberry escaped your mouth.

His eyes shut peacefully as your song washes over him. He's always loved your singing, everyone does, your song can seem to stop time for a few moments. But Luke likes to think he loves it the most - he's your best friend, of course he gets that right.

Once you finish singing you open your eyes and Luke is staring at you with pure amazement and... something else you can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's gone in a blink. "That was beautiful, y/n," he smiles.

"Like you," you tease standing up and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You do know you don't have to sit with me and listen every time I sing don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to," Luke says, standing up with you and pulling you into a side hug. "You've got a really beautiful voice y/n."

You brush it off and wrap your arm around his waist walking along with him. "Oh but its not as beautiful as yours," you joke and Luke's laugh vibrates through you sending a jolt of tingles and a wave of repressed feelings.

You watch as Luke laughs and can't help but smile yourself. You and Luke have been deemed the camp's Mom and Dad. If anything was wrong and you didn't want to take it to Mr D or Chiron the campers would go to you two, Apollo and Hermes cabin counsellors. That's when the rumours started. Luke and y/n are dating. Although you've both denied it several times the campers never listened and you were dubbed Mom and Dad.

Even though you denied it, a small- a medium- okay a pretty huge part of you wants it to be true. I mean who wouldn't want Luke Castellan to be their boyfriend? He has offers piling up every day from girls. You're pretty sure you've even seen someone offer him a fucking apple with the words 'will you go out with me' carved into it. Luke said no of course - she was a frigging psycho - but even then he never said yes to any of the offers, the ones that you knew about anyway.

"I got patrol tonight after the campfire," you sigh and break away from Luke to give a younger boy from Aphrodite a hug when he showed you his result from arts and crafts. Not noticing how Luke tenses beside you until the boy runs off to tell his friends you hugged him.

"I'll come with you, there's bound to be some shit heads sneaking off to go hook up," he rolls his eyes looking directly at some Ares camper who you've both caught several times. "And besides, gods know you couldn't handle the dark without me."

You scowl at Luke smacking him. "Haha very funny, a daughter of the sun god is afraid of the dark, it's hilarious." Luke just grins and catches your hand against his chest, holding it there, when you go to hit him again. Your laughter fades and you both just stare at each other for a moment neither of you wanting to break it but also wanting to admit to the other that there was something happening.

Luke clears his throat and drops your hand gently. "Whatever loser, you're the one stuck with me," you tease and kiss his cheek. Walking away before you lose your nerve. Holy shit why'd you do that? you scream inside your head. What the fuck? Why? Why? You couldn't have walked away normally, but noooo you had to kiss his fucking cheek.

You press the palm of your hands into your eyes and accidentally slam into someone. "Shit sorry!" you cry out looking down to see the poor camper you practically ran over.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Percy says looking up at you and then over at Luke who hasn't moved since you walked away. "Did you break him or something?"

"Or something," you mutter, helping Percy up. "Sorry again, Percy." You force a smile onto your face and sigh as you look at Luke.

"Yeaaah, you messed him up damn." Percy drawls. "Like really messed him up. Damn what did you do? Did you like, kick him in the balls or something?"

"Percy!" you shout shutting him up. He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic when he says sorry and then scurries off when Grover calls out to him.

Sighing, you shake your head and grumble to yourself about its going to be hella awkward tonight.

~~~

Something was wrong with Luke's heart. It hadn't stopped beating wildly since y/n had kissed him on the cheek and he was trying to control his erratic pulse when he rises up the steps to your cabin.

He knocks twice on the door and takes a deep breath when you open the door and look up at him. The deep breath is cut short when he notices you're wearing his hoodie. You smile up at him and ask, "you ready to go catch some horny teens?"

He nods and lets you lead the way. "Sure, yep, let's go Sunflower." You both walk in silence for the first two minutes before Luke works up the courage to say, "nice hoodie, there by the way, it matches your flashlight."

You twist around and grin ignoring his dig at your flashlight - it's white with a bunch of sunflowers hand painted on. "Yeah, some super, cool, really annoying guy gave it to me." Luke's eyebrow arches and you roll your eyes. "Fine, I stole it from the guy, cause it's soft and smells nice," you mumble that last part and Luke tilts his head at you in question.

"What was that last part?"

"It's soft?"

"No, the other part?"

You're quiet for a moment before mumbling, "it smells..... nice."

Luke practically stops breathing, but covers it up with a smirk. "You think I smell nice?"

You internally slap yourself. "Yes," you quietly answer. Well you know what? When you thought it was going to be awkward earlier? That's nothing compared to the tension right now.

A loud moan comes from up ahead behind the trees and you sigh tugging the hoodie closer before running up ahead to break up whatever situation is happening.

"Hey!" you yell out to the two campers whose clothes are dishevelled and hair all mussed up. "Get back to your cabins! And when I say cabins I mean your own cabin." The two kids scramble away back to their cabins swearing.

"Fuckers," Luke mutters from behind you. "I swear they always choose the same spot."

You spin around and smile, "they'll be back don't worry, you can bust them next time."

After you both make your rounds, catching three other couples, you end up in a secluded spot near the lake.

"So," you start looking out to the water, smiling softly. "What do you wanna talk about?" You shove the flashlight in the front pocket just soaking in the moonlight - and besides Luke's here, he protects you from the dark.

Luke looks over at you and steps closer wrapping a hand around each of your - well technically his - hoodie's drawstrings. "I don't really know..." he trails off and then looks down at you, your eyes shining in the moonlight. And then something must've possessed him because he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

You look up at him in surprise. "What was that for?" You ask, noticing how Luke's eyes shine with affection.

"Just paying you back for earlier."

You both freeze then - not tensing up but just not moving. Staying in the small bubble that you two have created for yourselves. The comfort of the silence that surrounds you both covers you like a blanket.

Your faces inch closer, your breaths mingling as your eyes meet and you swear you can hear your heartbeat. Can Luke hear how loud your heart is beating? Like seriously? It's so loud.

Everything seems perfect before a loud laugh erupts in the distance. You sigh and pull away from him and start walking over to where the noise came from. Were you going to kiss just then? Holy shit. Was that actually happening?

Luke's presence at your side sends you into a tailspin. Does he like you? Or was he only doing that out of pity. You reach into the hoodie to pull out your flashlight but a hand wraps around your own and you skid to a stop, looking down at Luke's hand intertwined with yours.

Luke doesn't stop though, he just keeps walking, hopefully not noticing how red your cheeks are right now.

You both round the path and find a girl sitting on a fallen log hidden in the trees, she's wrapped in nothing but a blanket she must've brought from her cabin. When the girl sees you - well more like see's Luke - her eyes brighten up.

"Oh Luke! You're finally here! I was waiting for you." A frown instantly replaces the soft smile you have on your face.

"What?" Your voice is quiet and confused.

The girl shoots you a smug look. "What? Did you actually think Luke wanted to spend time with you tonight?" She smirks. "He was only killing time to spend it with me."

What?

You know what the girl is saying is wrong but when you look at Luke you almost start crying. He's quiet at your side staring harshly at the girl. He's not denying it. He's not denying it!

"Lukey and I have plans now bitch-girl, leave." Your teeth clench so tightly you're afraid you're gonna break your jaw. Why isn't Luke SAYING ANYTHING??

You stare frigidly at the girl. "Look, I wanna say Gina..?" she asks purposely misnaming you.

"It's y/n."

"Right that's what I said," she smirks. "Now unless you want to watch me and Luke roll around on the ground here I suggest you leave."

You stay put fighting your ground. Why is Luke not saying anything??

"Ooh we've got a bit of a slut on our hands do we? Damn Gina, I didn't know you were into kinky shit."

"I don't-"

She cuts you off. "It's fine I don't mind you watching like the whore you are."

WHY ISN'T LUKE SAYING ANYTHING?

The girl turns her eyes on Luke again. "I'm waiting for you Luke. Tell her to piss off. Or better yet, tell her that we've been sleeping together."

Luke stays quiet, his eyes locked on the girl.

What. The. Fuck?

The girl opens her mouth to start again but you turn around before she can say anything else.

"Y'know what? I'll leave you two to it," you spit, forcing the tears that spring to your eyes to stop.

"Wait y/n!" Luke calls out suddenly, but you've already launched into a sprint not caring what he has to say now. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it.

Tears blur your eyes and you struggle to pull out your flashlight, tripping over a tree root and stumbling to the ground. You face plant onto the ground and even though you're wearing long pants you can feel your skin being torn.

It's dark and cold

You have scratches along your face and arms - where the hoodie pushed up - everything burns your skin, your face, your eyes, your heart.

He didn't deny it.

You pat around looking for your flashlight. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be lost, no! Luke painted it for you, when you first came to camp and when he found out you were afraid of the dark.

Luke made that. Your Luke made tha-

Your face crumples.

Luke.

He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop her.

Your heart heavy as you do so, you stand up, fighting the new wave of tears that threaten to overcome you.

A chill hits you and you pull the dirty hoodie closer. It still smells like Luke.

And...

And its dark...

Shit.

Anger pools deep in your gut. She called you a slut and a whore.

That bitch better watch it.....

©strawberries-and-summer-days

a/n: lemme know if you want a part two!!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #fanfiction #fanfic #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfic #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

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scarletlizzard · 10 months ago

Text

Part 4: Cat and Mouse

Sessions Series

Parings: dark Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, mentions of gun/knife, choking, strap on usage (R receiving), major manipulation, toxic, stalker

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for reading my first series! It's been so fun to write. If you have any questions, let me know! I'm thinking of writing an epilogue for it if yall are interested? To show where they are now. Let me know what y'all think 🩷

Early Spring 2016

Wanda tilts her head to the side, a smile on her face as she looks at the painting on the wall.

It's a Renaissance-style painting. A woman draped in elegant attire is depicted running gracefully across a grandiose landscape. Her flowing garments billow behind her as she glances over her shoulder with a mix of fear and excitement in her wide eyes.

Behind her, a single shadow looms ominously, its form elongated and exaggerated. The scene is bathed in soft, golden light, casting long shadows and creating a sense of darkness.

The woman's delicate features and intricate clothing are painted with meticulous detail, while the surrounding scenery showcases the artist's mastery of perspective and depth. The painting seems to capture the eternal struggle between light and darkness.

Wanda felt drawn to it. Something about it was pulling her in. This was her fourth time coming to see it, the gallery being just down the block from her office.

"Haunting, isn't it?" A voice, possibly the most alluring voice she had ever heard, speaks from next to her.

"It's breathtaking," Wanda mutters. Her eyes focus on the woman in the painting, then to the dark shadow behind her.

"The shadow, it never stops chasing her. She's constantly looking back over her shoulder, wondering.." The voice speaks again.

"Wondering what?" Wanda asks.

"Wondering when she'll be caught. It's all a game, see?" A finger points to the small plaque underneath the painting. The title of it read:

Cat and Mouse

***

Current Winter 2018

You felt a sense of deja vu as you ran throughout the house. A sense of unexpected excitement flows through you as your feet carry you to the front door - locked.

As you run down the hallway, your breathing picks up. You hear Wandas loud steps stalking behind you at an even pace. The back door - locked.

Down another hall, door after door - locked.

Running up the stairs you take in Wandas words,

"When I find you, I will fuck you."

You couldn't ignore the ache between your legs or the partial truth to her reasoning.

Had you gone and sought out for a stalker? No, but once your shadow appeared, your life became more interesting. You felt a spark inside of you, and you felt it last night, too.

You find an open door and shut it behind you, quickly locking it. With your back against the hard wood, you take a second to catch your breath. When you hear footsteps from the end of the hall, you also hear Wandas voice.

"Don't forget what I said, darling.." A door opens and closes, the footsteps draw nearer.

A small smile plays on your lips.

You were just as fucked up as she was.

***

Early Spring 2016

Wanda turns to the woman next to her, taking in her bewitching appearance.

"Did you paint this?" Wanda asks. You nod, smiling as you stare at your art.

"I did. I still can't believe it's here," you chuckle to yourself. She watches curiously as you tap your leg 4 times with your finger.

"It's amazing. You are truly talented.." Wanda continues to stare at you.

"Thank you, it's... it's very personal," you say with a nod, turning to the stranger. "She needs the shadow to keep pushing forward, but she'll never admit it to herself."

Before either of you can say anything else, your phone rings. "Excuse me for a moment," you say with a smile, answering the call.

"Hey mom, is everything okay?" Wanda hears you ask as you walk away from her.

She looks at the painting, then to you standing on the other side of the room. A smile slid into a crooked grin on her face, and Wanda knew it was fate.

***

Current Winter 2018

You look around the room you entered, some sort of a guest bedroom. You needed a way out.. Right?

Yes, you needed to get out.

You move around the room, looking for some type of makeshift weapon, but find no such thing. Wandas footsteps stop outside the door, you stand still near the neatly made bed.

"I know you're in there, pretty girl.." The door knob wiggles as she tries to open it, finding it locked. Wanda chuckles darkly.

"Dear Shadow," her voice carries through the door, your eyes widen. There was no way she knew the next words.

"You scare me.. You frighten me.."

"Stop it!" You scream, putting your hands over your ears.

"You scare me because I'm afraid I'll never be able to live a normal life. You frighten me because I like being chased.." Wanda quotes the note you left, the one you thought was locked away in a box underneath a pile of clothes in your closet. The door handle wiggles again.

"You make me feel something, something I know isn't right. I won't play your game.." She finishes talking. And you feel your hands shaking.

"H-How did you get that note?" You ask, fists balled up at your sides. You think back to a session where Wanda even asked you about the note. A note she apparently had, for how long you weren't sure.

"Do you really think I've only been inside of your house the once? You're smarter than that little mouse."

Your stomach dropped again, a sick feeling in your gut at the realization of her words. Wanda had been more a part of your life than you had even realized.

***

Late Summer 2016

Wanda watches from across the street, hidden in the shadows as you unpack boxes in your new home. It had been two months since your mother's funeral, 4 months since she began watching you. She dropped the cigarette she was smoking onto the ground, kicking it out with her foot. She watches as a red-headed woman helps you hang up a painting on the wall. Wanda smiles. It was almost time to begin the game.

***

Fall 2016

"Natasha? Hey!" Wanda says with a perfect smile, a hand runs through her hair.

"Oh my god, hey! We just keep running into each other." Natasha smiles warmly.

Happenstance, right ... Wanda thinks to herself as the red head reaches out her hand. She shakes Natashas' hand with a friendly grip.

"I know it's so crazy! Hey, do you want to grab a coffee sometime? Might as well if we're going to keep seeing each other around," Wanda laughs and looks around the grocery store she's never shopped at before.

"That would be so great, I know a great cafe just down the block.."

***

Winter 2016

Wanda stands outside in the shadows. The same red wine is poured into a glass as you stir a pot on the stove. She watches as you look through the window, squinting your eyes. You shake your head and gulp the rest of the wine down, not knowing you were staring right at her.

A vibrate from her pocket pulls her attention, and she looks at the text she received:

Natasha- Hey Wanda! Throwing a Christmas party next Saturday. You in?

Wanda- I'll be there.

You saw in the corner of the room a woman, standing alone. Her eyes watch over the room as she sips out of a red solo cup. She looks.. familiar, you can't quite place it. With the confidence of Rum on your tongue, you walk over to the angelic looking woman. She has a crooked smile on her face as you approach her.

"Wanda," she says after you introduce yourself. It wasn't long after that you were screaming the name for hours in your bedroom.

***

Current Winter 2018

"Now open the door, darling.." Wanda says. You hear 4 taps on the door, not from her hand. You can only assume it was by the knife you saw her unsheathe downstairs.

"And then what? What's the endgame, Wanda?" You ignore her command, standing in front of the door as you question her. She's silent for a while, so quiet you began to wonder if she had disappeared.

"Tell me you don't like the chase. Tell me you hate the way I make you feel. Tell me you want me to stop," she speaks calmly, voice unwavering. You can practically hear the smile on her face as she says, "Tell me all of those things, pretty girl. And if you say it, if you mean it.. I will leave you alone. You can go back to your regular, boring life. The same routine every day. No one chasing after you, pushing you forward. No more shadows."

You swallow hard at her words, mouth open to speak, but no words come out. Wanda will leave you alone, just tell her you're done. Back to reality. Back to...

Wanda stands outside the door, waiting for too long. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a key, unlocking the door. When she opens it all the way, she feels a cool air blowing strands of her hair back. Wanda looks around once. You were nowhere to be found. She laughs and shakes her head, walking to the open window where the breeze flows into the room. Snow floating in gently.

You couldn't say those words to her and mean it. Wanda had run into your life and caused chaos, but you wouldn't be truthful if you said it was already fucked up. With Wanda you felt alive. You felt important. You couldn't live without the dangerous chase.

With windswept hair and an exhilarated look on your face, you dash through a pristine blanket of snow, your bare feet leaving delicate imprints behind you. With each step, a mix of excitement and trepidation dances across your features, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. The feeling of the snow sticking to your hair and the flakes underneath you heightens the sense of vulnerability and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It didn't take long for you to hear the familiar pace of Wandas stride coming from behind you.

You make for the trees.

***

Summer 2017

Wanda unscrews another bolt, wiping the sweat that dripped down to her brow. She stands from the AC unit on the side of your house, the mechanical noise coming to a halt. The birds in the trees above her chirped loudly, signaling the sun rising from a distance. She walks away, with each step assuring her imminent return.

****

Current Winter 2018

You find solace behind a tree. Gasping for air, your chest heaving with each breath. As you glance around, all you see are dark trees speckled white with snow. The treetops covered the forest that stood behind Wandas house, the sun peaking through its leaves and branches to light a golden path on the mossy ground.

A branch breaks from behind you. Your hands move to cover your mouth as you hear the steps of your shadow.

****

Summer 2017

"Such a pretty little mouse..."

Wanda sat on top of you, relishing in how easy it was to sneak in. How your body barely fought her off.

"Leave me alone!" You whimper, shaking your head to remove her hand off of your lip.

"Why? We've only just begun pretty girl," her voice makes your chest tighten. You watch with careful eyes as she reaches behind her back, pulling out a gun.

Wanda slides the barrel against your cheek, watching the fear in your eyes. The gun slides down your rapidly moving chest...

And then she sets it down on the floor beside your head.

"You can use it any time you like.. but I know you won't, little mouse," she husks down at you. "You want me here.. you like the idea of a shadow watching over you every day. The feeling I can just walk in at any time.." Wanda chuckles darkly.

Before you can say anything or wonder where her hands are going, you feel a sharp needle prick your neck. You immediately feel your eyes become heavy, your vision blurring as your shadow removes her mask. Features blurry enough that you can't make her out.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N.."

You awake the next morning on the couch with a start, gasping as you look around the room with wide eyes. The pounding in your head and the nauseous feeling in your stomach convinced you that you must have had too much to drink. It was just a bad dream.

But then your eyes catch sight, on the coffee table in front of you, a small black gun.

One that you would wave down the street looking for your shadow, screaming to no one that if they didn't come out, you would kill yourself.

One that you would lie to the police about, saying you bought it off a junkie at the docks to protect your shadow.

The shadow was yours, after all, to deal with.

****

Current Winter 2018

As you stand still like prey avoiding your predator, you hear a subtle sound of a bell ringing. A bell you knew to be followed by a blow of a deep horn as a boat leaves the dock. You wait a second... two... three...

A deep horn sounds from in the direction straight ahead of you.

Excitement sparks in your chest as you mentally prepare yourself to do what you do best, run.

You don't look back once, but you know Wanda is following. Your ears twitch as you hear her pace quicken behind you, branches and twigs snapping around the two of you as you make for the dock. The trees begin to clear, and you spot the water, a dock spanning so far you can't see the end of it, along the shore. You run towards a wooden boathouse attached to the dock that didn't look too far, hoping you could make it before Wanda emerges from the trees.

You sit low on the ground of the wood surface, and water splashes below you. A small boat floated inside, covered with a tarp, along with random tables and boxes filled with fishing supplies. As you look out the window, you see Wanda at the edge of the woods, her eyes searching the many places you could be. You duck down, not willing to risk being spotted.

***

Late Summer 2017

"I really fucked up, Wanda.." Pietro sighs into the phone.

Wanda shakes her head, watching from afar as you pace the living room.

"Shit, Pietro," she sighs loudly and walks away, around the corner. "I'll book a flight in the morning."

****

Spring 2018

"I'm so happy you're back.." Natasha smiles at her friend, sipping the coffee she held in her hands, the smiling not quite reaching her eyes.

"What's wrong, Nat?" Wanda says, resting her hand on top of Natasha.

"It's my friend, Y/N. I've told you about her," she says, Wanda nods thoughtfully. "She really needs some help, I just don't know what to do.."

Wanda reaches in her pocket and takes a business card out, sliding it across the table. "Give her this. I know a lot of people that could help her, but I also know you really care about her... I could take care of her. She would be brand new by the time we finished our Sessions."

Natasha takes the card wearily. "I don't know if I can just suggest this right now to her.. I'll think about it. Wait a little bit, and see if she gets better on her own." She smiles at Wanda gratefully.

"Of course.. maybe she'll get better," Wanda says, smiling at the thought of her spot in the shadows just outside your house.

****

Current Winter 2018

"Little mouse.." Her voice sounds from outside the window. You move quietly and quickly underneath a table that is in the corner covered by a tarp.

Wanda steps inside, the floor creaking underneath her weight, the door shutting with a snap. You listen to her footsteps as she walks around the small boathouse, rustling around in boxes. Your fingers twitch, absendmidetly tapping your leg 4 times.

Your shadow loomed over you.

It was quick, the pulling of the tarp, the exasperated scream as Wanda grabbed you from the back of your neck, pressing the blade to the front of your throat. She pulls you close to her, knowing you were going nowhere in her strong grip. The knife she held to your neck presses harder, drawing the smallest bit of blood as you attempt to scratch at her arms.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Wanda sighs into your ear, pressing her lips to the sensitive skin just below. "Looks like I've caught you, pretty girl. What now, hm?" She chuckles darkly and continues to kiss your neck.

The ache between your legs grows as she presses her hips into you, feeling the strap beneath her jeans. "I told you if you ran, I would punish you.." Wanda removes one hand, keeping the knife to your throat. You don't have time to wonder before you hear the sound of her unbuckling her belt.

Cool metal is replaced with warm leather as she ties the belt around your neck, pushing you down roughly face first onto the table in front of you. "Wanda.." You whimper out. She tugs on the end of the belt, your whimpering cut short by lack of air. With the sharp blade, she cuts the shirt that clung to your body right down the middle, exposing your back.

"I told you, Y/N. I warned you what would happen when I found you." Her free hand slides down the shorts you wore. You blush, knowing she was about to find out how wet you were for her. Wanda frees the strap from her pants, sliding the tip along your ass. Your hips move back towards her as she teases you, causing Wanda to smirk.

She knew how badly you wanted her. Wanda would show you, over time, how you belonged to her and only her. And that she, belonged to you, only you.

She slides in easily, wasting no time in fucking herself into you. The table moves with every thrust, scratching the wooden dock below. Wanda holds in one strong grip, the belt, the other one holding your hip to meet hers. The knife had dropped to the ground. You both knew it wasn't needed.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm going to fuck you every chance I get.." She moans loudly, pulling the belt. Your hands grip onto the leather as she pounds into you mercilessly, moaning at the thought of her having her way with you whenever she felt like it. Her powerful thrust sending shocks into your body. A hard smack across your ass makes you yelp. You feel a singing sensation. Another. More stinging. And another. Surely a bruise.

"Tell me, Y/N.." Wanda grunts in between thrusts. You knew what she wanted to hear. You had no problem telling her the truth.

"I need you!" You rasp out, her grip on the belt loosens.

"That's right, baby. I won't let you forget it," she pulls the belt to pull you up, your back flush against her. Wanda kisses your cheek, surprisingly softly. "Fuck you feel so good." Wanda groans, her breathing becoming ragged. She gropes your breasts as the cut shirt slips off of your body, pinching your nipples hard between her fingers.

The pleasure was overstimulating, your body still sore and tired from the night before. You feel your legs tremble under your weight, but Wanda easily holds you up.

"Are you gonna cum, little mouse? Hm?" Wanda groans against your skin, you nod quickly. "You better beg for it then.." She chuckles, making you whine.

"Wanda.." Your word barely comes out, unable to think and physically trapped by the belt. "Baby.." You try, feeling her body tense behind you.

"Please let me cum, please I'm begging you!"

"I need you to let me cum!"

"Baby please!"

"Cum for me, pretty girl.." She finally gives in.

Before you know it, you were coming, your orgasm crashing over your body in sync with the waves crashing below. Wanda continues to fuck you through your orgasm, letting herself enjoy the sight of you falling apart in her arms.

You hear her moan loudly, thrusts slowing as she releases with you. Wanda holds onto you tightly, the grip on her belt gone as you stand breathing heavily, your hearts beating together as you catch your breath. She gives you a minute before sliding out of you carefully and sitting you on the table.

You can barely sit up, freezing, and now even more sore than you already were. You watch with half lidded eyes as Wanda does her pants up, buckling her belt. She takes the knife and puts it behind her before taking off her hoodie. You could see a red shirt on her.

The hoodie is warm and smells like her as she slides it over your head, putting your arms in the holes. She pulls up the shorts and puts the hood over your head, tucking your hair behind your ears. You close your eyes as she lifts you up bridal style, carrying you out of the wooden structure.

You remember resting your head against her neck, thinking you had never felt softer skin before. You remember the warm sun shining through the trees as she carried you through the woods to her house. You remember the sound of hot water running. The feeling of her hands scrubbing your body clean. The sound of a match flicking. The smell of Wanda as warm clothes were put on your body.

Wanda slides in front of you in the bed, holding you tightly in her embrace. You grab onto her. She pulls the blanket over you both. 4 kisses on your head. The feeling of sleep taking over. The thought that nothing was going to be the same.

Your shadow whispering in your ear,

"Sweet dreams, little mouse.."

#wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader #dark wanda x reader #dark wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen

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wintertime-in-june · 7 months ago

Text

Kissing Booth

Inspired by a piece of art by izumicrazyworld on Instagram.

It was a Saturday, a sunny, yet breezy Saturday afternoon. The fair had been going on since ten that morning and the crowds of people milling about the marques were unrelenting.

The fair had been set up in an effort to raise money for the public service of defence. It encompassed stalls from the police, selling books and cakes; a tombola from the air force; pin the tail on the whale from the marines and more.

The private military stall ran by KorTac sat at the edge of the room, despite its sub prime location the line was long, wrapping all the way around the hall.

...Well, one side of the booth's line was long.

König stood there, trying his very best to look approachable but failing miserably as the young recruit beside him kissed women after women after the occasional man.

Who's idea was this anyway? A kissing booth for goodness sake! How infantile... he told himself as he fiddled with his fingers...

Yet still... he couldn't help but wonder why no-one wanted to kiss him.

He thought he would be supervising, just sitting back and wasting his day, so you can believe the shock he had when the Lieutenant said his shift was over and the Colonel's was just beginning.

You stood with your friend on the other side of the room, just finishing up a lovely cupcake you had gotten from the Police's stand, strawberry frosted.

You watched, as you often did, the scenes before you, taking in each and every person as they went about their day.

He was easy to miss, despite his towering height, but your eyes locked on him nonetheless. It was as if he was trying to blend into the background, to compensate for his immense size. Dressed in all black, with a mask to obscure his face and trying to make himself look as small as possible... to no avail.

That's when you saw it, a long line leading to his booth, but not to him, no, to the soldier beside him.

The mask didn't help... and the fact that the booth's sign was as tall as him, covering his face... also didn't help. But still, how could no-one want to kiss him!

Your friend looked over, noticing the look in your eyes, like a person who had just found a lost kitten, wondering if they should keep it or not.

"Go on," she said with a smile, giving your shoulder a nudge.

You snapped out of your trance, there was no point denying where you were staring, it was that obvious.

"I can't, I couldn't, really! A kissing booth, I mean... I would never!" You protested, feeling your heart beat quicken.

"He is so your type." She retorts with a sly smirk.

You didn't know whether to be insulted or not... she wasn't exactly wrong.

"Oh, alright then..." You say with a little sigh, you knew you wanted to and it was for charity after all. Smiling a little to your friend, you couldn't help the excitement that bubbled inside you, a kiss was a kiss.

As you walked, a woman on a mission, towards the booth, you tried to regulate your breathing. How were you going to do this? How long do you hold the kiss? How do you even kiss? Over or under the mask?

Before you knew it you were there, standing below this towering figure, looking up and up and up and up until you saw, crystal blue eyes staring back at you, it was for lack of better words, intense.

You gave a small smile putting the money on the worktop in front of you.

"Hi, please... um, please can you." You decide to stop speaking at that point, your sentence being a disaster from start to finish.

He slid the coins from the surface into the basket below, looking down at you.

He bent down slightly, then realised it would not be enough, he bent his knees, going lower and lower until, he was just above eye level.

He may have looked stoic and unfeeling on the outside, an overall fear inducing demeanour, meanwhile his heart was going a mile a minute.

You're gorgeous, so beautiful, a girl like you doesn't have to pay for kisses! Was all that ran through his mind as he got on your level. Let alone from a beast like him.

Your perfume was sweet, fruity, perfect. Your face was so, so close.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly, was he going to lift his mask up or...

You decided to show some initiative, you had paid for a kiss, you were getting a kiss. You lifted your hands up slowly, gently holding his mask and lifting it up yourself.

You only had a second to look before the natural motion of things took hold. There was a scar, a cut upwards on the left side of his upper lip. He was clean shaven... that was nice.

You smiled lightly as you leaned forward and your lips met his. Surprisingly plush, slightly chapped.

It wasn't a quick kiss but it didn't go too far.

It was sweet. It was lovely. It was undeniably, the best kiss you had ever had.

It only had wholesome intent behind it, just perfection.

The two of you parted slowly, the person beside König having gone through three other people in the time it took the two of you to have one kiss.

Your strawberry frosting breath fanning his face as you parted slowly. His eyes filled with longing.

He remained on your level, not standing up even as you let go of his mask.

He was completely awestruck.

He will never forget this.

#WinterTime #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #könig x y/n #könig x reader #könig x you #loser konig #konig fluff #könig fluff #könig fanfiction #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #cod konig #könig call of duty #konig call of duty

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ayyy-pee · 1 year ago

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist.

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling. “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?”

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell.

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these.

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’?

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing.

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now.

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

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volturissideslut · 1 year ago

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Can you the volturi kings with a mate that is a tattoo artist and covered in tattoos. She gets turned into a vampire and discover that she has the powers to give vampires tattoos

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝕻𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Some NSFW thoughts, but its just a few sentences. Not proper smut.

They would LOVE your tattoos while you're human.

Caius would spend hours upon hours kissing them and tracing them with his tongue. Let me tell you, if you got his initials really high up on your inner thigh he would spend days, months, years, the rest of his immortal life with his head between your thighs just to switch between eating you out and sucking dark hickeys over that tattoo.

Aro designs new ones for you. Your body is art to him (with or without tattoos) but he gets so happy when you get one of his designed permanently etched onto your skin. He would foam at the mouth if you got a bite mark tattoo and told him that's where you want to be bitten when you're turned - it's like he's marked you already.

Marcus just things its so hot. So god damned unbelievably hot. He just can't stop staring at you. Strip tease him, I dare you. You'll be face down ass up before you can even reveal the newest design.

Also, if you tattoo yourself they'd let you practice on them. They're vampires, it doesn't hurt. And the design will fade after an hour or so because the venom that flows through them would break it down.

There was a fifteen minute period where all four of you had matching tattoos and it was the best fifteen minutes of their lives. Okay, that's a lie. But it makes top 5 at least!

After you're turned they fade a bit and then come back?? And everyone is so confused until they all realise your gift.

They make you put your initials on them. Aro has them on the inside of his right wrist (so he can always see it and so everyone knows he belongs to you) . Marcus has them on his bicep (he often shows it off to you when trying to subtly impress you with his muscles). Caius has it on his collarbone, halfway between is hear and shoulder on his left (and he takes every moment he can to be shirtless around you and flex)

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roseglazedlens · 1 year ago

Text

⦑ 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱? ⦒ ✶.*

pairing(s): ethan winters x afab gn reader synopsis: ethan can't sleep again. as his doting partner, you reach under the sheets, giving him temporary solace to his nightmares at the village. content: smut 18+ only mdni, soft dom ethan, hand & finger kink, sensual, oral (m! receiving), deepthroat, finger fucking, body worship, pet names, hurt/comfort, events in re8, mentions of trauma, nightmares, scars, stitches & prosthetics. a/n 2: please check out my friend @emilzke's ethan winters x reader work called 'rebuilding' which i absolutely love (she got shadowba-nned so give her some love thanks!) a/n: belated birthday gift to @obsolescent, one of my favourite people on this app! sorry this took so long! ! even if its not your bday anymore, hope you still had a good night lovely! enjoy! also inspired by this art of ethan. « 2.2 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

It all started from a little small talk, quiet reassurances of ‘how was your day’ shared intimately under the privacy of the moonlight and each other’s eyes until both of you drift into slumber. The bed, in which you rest together when night falls. Two bedside tables, lived in, and for a moment, a sense of normality has returned.

Ethan was restless in his sleep—a side effect from full-day’s work of software debugs and upgrades that he maintains on the daily. Or perhaps, something more. Something that happened in the village that he spends every minute trying to forget. And despite the passing of seasons, the memory lingers like persistent heat.

His hand fidgets under the covers, shifting fingers up and down in desperation to find yours, as if you might disappear, kidnapped by the shadows of his nightmares and he’s back there again, finding missing flasks, patching you together piece by piece like a detached puzzle. But what he’s actually looking for are parts of himself, that seem to still sit underneath the crumble and debris of the buried village.

“R-Ro…” Ethan’s voice hitches out—frantic, weak.

Through muffled strings of your sleepy breath, you rummage under the sheets to find his hand.

“My dear… It’s me. I’m here.” You turn around to lean into the column between his neck and shoulders, made perfect for you. The moment your hands meet, Ethan clasps them tightly, before relieving, loosening in your reassurance. “You’re okay now. Rose is okay.”

Ethan’s eyes open lightly and just like you promised, Rose is in the cot by your side, gentle baby's breath floating through the air. He brings you closer to his chest, just to nestle into your warmth as he peppers kisses on the crown of your head.

“Did you sleep?” You coo, hands running up his naked torso just to feel them against you.

“A little. I’ll go back to sleep soon. Just need a second.” His chest heaves in front of you, and from what you know about Ethan, his quickened heartbeat will only take a while for him to calm down.

You look up to see him, and find that his eyes are wide awake, simply staring at the ceiling, as if counting sheep to hypnotise him back to sleep. Through lidded eyes, Ethan sees you; and smiles at how you look. His hands move unthinkingly, bringing them to your face before he even realises he’s caressing it, sending a gentle shiver of warmth through your spine.

“Ah.” Ethan puts his hand in the air to stop him, chuckling bashfully. “Sorry for keeping you up. Get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m awake now.” You grumble, catching his hand in the air back to your face, like a toy stolen from a child. You press his hand on your cheek, keeping him there, which Ethan has no problems with.

His hands are different now, you thought as you run your fingers down his hand, feeling every stitch, bump, and rough texture that ran along the back of his palms before hitting you with the cold knuckle of his metal prosthetic fingers along where his ring and pinky finger should have been.

What used to be the compliment getter for Ethan, through the bruise and burns had lost its natural shine, not even his superhuman healing speed is immune to the scars. But to you, the rugginess simply enhances his beauty. Stitches tracing like a map to a treasure, red patches of scar like cherry kisses gracing along the soft plush of his palms. You love it all.

Those are proof of Ethan's survival—That was all you wanted. To hear and feel his presence in the mundane. Side by side with the man you love. But to him, he lost something that day. A part of his soul ripped apart, still underneath the crumble and debris of that buried village.

“Do you need help sleeping?” Your half-lidded eyes can’t obscure your devilish glint in your eyes, hand rustling underneath the sheet, obscure him from the view of what you’re about to do to him. His eyes meet yours, staring right back in disbelief, but simultaneously unable to resist what you have to offer for him in this quiet night.

“Now?” He seems to be genuinely considering the idea. “What if Rose wakes up?”

“She won't if you keep quiet.” You bring his hand to your lips to pepper kisses on his hands, slowing as you’re licking the length of each finger. The pain goes away, replaced by lust, but only ever so slightly.

“Can you do that for me?” You pause, waiting for his answer, and he nods surely. “Good boy.”

Wasting no time to help to get comfortable, you dive your head under the covers just to resurface as a lump under the sheet. Ethan clears his throat in anticipation as you tuck your fingers into boxers, removing just enough for his cock to spring up and meet you in the face.

You run your tongue at the tip of his crest, swirling in small circles to tease his precum out of him, in which he squirms, pushing in his legs slightly before relaxing. It was difficult to see where you are in the darkness of the sheets, but you make do, finding where his crest meets his shaft and following it down the rest of his dick to find the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

When his cock is wet enough to your liking, you meet his tip with the soft seam of your lips, taking his length inch and inch at a time as you tongue around his hardening cock. A low grunt escapes his lips, and you can hear his thoughts fading him as you play with him some more.

He places his hand on your head, blood surging down his body, not quite wanting to hurt you, or accidentally snag on your hair to make it painful.

That’s who your husband is, even when he’s enjoying, he would never want to hurt you. Or at least tries not to.

“O-Oh... m’ god, so fuckin’ goo- Nnh.” That is your cue to move in deeper, hopefully to catch him between words and leave him hitching his breath as you finish him under your nose. Your tongue clashes against his dick that only fills your mouth, eventually leaving no room for your tongue to explore him. The bobs of your head become more messy and difficult, and his whimpers only make you even more excited.

“L-Let m’ see you, babe.” Ethan stifles the words out, lifting the covers up, and you’re embraced by the light of the bedside lamp. A glimpse of Ethan’s silhouette and his round beady eyes staring right into your position that exposes you and the hunger you have for him.

With you now able to see, you catch how his eyes snap shut, brows twist in, feeling every single pulse climbing through his body. His hand that rests on your head grows tighter, one that is neither rough or gentle, just a reassurance and consolance of what you are going through. You feel yourself pooling from how lewd it all sounds.

“Fuck, how did I get married to someone like you?” Ethan whines, bumping his head into the headboard behind with a light thump, but he doesn’t care. You are right in front of him, and he’s taking in the sight of you in with every glimpse of attention he can offer.

The tip of the dick is at the back of your throat. Only now you feel the gag reflex—but you shut your eyes tightly, holding in a little longer until the feeling surely goes away. This is when you feel his hips jerk up against you, thighs widening to welcome you as he whimpers bitten pieces of your name until his spine shakes from the fervour of affection you have been pouring into him.

“G-Get off… I’m fuckin’ gon-gonna…” Ethan’s raspy groan erupts through the room, melodious to you, as his hand struggles to push you off, made weak for any movement from how your skilled lips have treated him.

Ethan falls back to the sheets, with one final grunt, unloads himself directly onto your tongue. And you accept, letting your sore jawline hang wide to receive the fruits of your labour. His hand untenses from your head, abandon to the side of him in order to recollect his thoughts.

You reach over the bedside table to retrieve the tissue box in order to spit out his cum for disposal. You roll back to your side of the bed, checking at Rose's slumber, and when you did you bring the sheets upwards, preparing for your sleep.

“Good night, Ethan.” Are your final words creeping a yawn before turning the lamp off.

Ethan pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then wraps his hands around you, coaxing warm kisses into your neck: “How’d you expect I sleep without tasting you first?”

“I’m on morning shift tomorrow. Need my eight hours.”

“You sure?” There it was. That sweet voice lined with a hint of mischievous tone. The one you can’t resist.

“I’m very sure.” You don’t hesitate, because you know it will give yourself an opening.

He runs his hand up your belly, slightly exposed from your lifted shirt, pressing strokes that almost feels like a massage. Ethan seems to know where to touch you every time to untense you. “By the time I’m done, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

You can be convinced. You can be convinced very much. Especially with how he reaches down to tease you, and knows how your body betrays mind, with how you have wet a patch in your underwear.

“Not very honest, aren’t you?” Ethan lets out an amused grin, as if returning the favour of what you’ve done to him at his barely awake state. “You’ll still get your eight hours. I’ll make you come in five minutes. Guarantee it.”

You roll your eyes and wave at him to go ahead, but secretly, your clit is pulsing at his forwardness, increasingly eager to let him please you. In which Ethan helps himself, running a teasing finger up the length of your cunt just to stop at your clit, swirling lazy circles which only earn a groan from you that Ethan has been desperate to hear all night.

“Etha-an… Hnng… B-Babe…” The feeling run into your veins, growing in need, knotting itself low in your stomach. He delivers as he promises with only his nimble fingers, through slick and slurp, explores the depths of you, finding the spot you desire with skilful ease. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes to feel him filling you with his fingers alone, and encourages him to continue.

He spreads you, adding his second finger now, the cold metal of his ring finger, lacing them on the length of your cunt with practiced ease. The contrast between cold and warm only excites you more. Ethan dotes on your sweet voice, slipping the two curled fingers in and out through a perfect angle that pushes a muffled groan between clenched teeth.

“God, baby.” He takes that as a sign to continue faster and harder, jamming his fingers until the sound of your slick permeates the air, every muscle clenching at him. “You like it when my finger fucks you, huh?”

You let the sensation continue, allow yourself to completely give away control to the man you love. Let him take care of you, like you always do to him. Ethan is merely returning the favour. A slight pain enters through his sensitive finger that still aches from a past wound, in which he winces, and you catch on almost immediately.

“Y-Your hand…”

“Shh… Just be quiet and feel good.” He smiles, not intending to stop anytime soon. Ethan quickens his pace, before you start squeezing into his fingers, demanding urgency, speed through how your thighs close in, as if that would allow more friction on your naked skin.

You open your eyes now, and all you see is sincerity in his eyes, fixed upon you this whole time to make sure you are indeed enjoying what he’s doing to you. And somehow, that is the one action that tips you over the edge, rippling high moans through the back of your throat as you chase your own high directly between his fingers.

“Wow.” Ethan whistles, a bemused grin hanging by his lips as he feels your juices release, spilling on his fingers. “You came so much.”

Ethan brings his fingers up his lips, admiring his handiwork, dripped in your sweet juices, before putting them into his mouth. He runs his tongue around the sides of his slender fingers, savouring every part of his reward.

“Heh. Told you I just need five minutes.”

“That was ten minutes, Mr. Winters.”

“Maybe I can beat my record?” Ethan winks, quite terribly, frankly, and despite how his silly charms would normally convince you, this time, you are functioning with five hours of sleep.

“Don’t even try, Ethan.” He shrugs, slightly defeated, as he joins you into the cosy embrace of your shared bed.

...

“In the morning?”

“Are you serious right now, Ethan?”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. god i'm so feral for him, every night i'm plagued by the thoughts of ethan cradling me to sleep and whispering into my ear (yes this is a marriage proposal). tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @obsolescent © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters x you #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

Text

Remember me? (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Her blood boiled as she watched Rhys talk to her son. Fin nodded eagerly before turning back to the drawing in front of him. She had seen enough when the bastard had the audacity to to hold her son's hand and help him with the painting.

"Fin! I'm back baby!" Y/n announced, walking up behind her son. He looked up smiling as the High Lord went rigid.

"Can I finish this mama? Its almost done." He said, pointing to the paper he was colouring on with crayons. Y/n smiled and nodded.

"I need to talk to someone. You finish it, I'll be right here." And then she had grabbed Rhys's collar and tugged, and he stood without much fuss, following her out the doors and around the corner.

"Y/n–"

"No Rhysand. What about 'stay away from him' do you not understand?"

"You can't keep me away from him forever. He's my son–"

"He stopped being yours the moment you left me and him to fend for ourselves."

"I didn't know!"

"Exactly. Because if you knew, you wouldn't have left and I would never have found out what an asshole you are. And, despite how much I hate you for leaving us, I'm grateful that you did, because it opened my eyes to how distrustful males are. My son deserves better than that."

"She was my mate! Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing." His eyes looked so helpless that for a moment Y/n felt bad. But then she shook her head. She needed to be strong, for her son, and for her own sanity.

"I wouldn't have done that, Rhys. Because, no other love would compare for the one I had for you. I would atleast not have abandoned you without preamble." Her eyes prickled, and she looked away from the male she had loved more than she had loved her own life. "Stay. Away. From. Him."

"How do you expect me to stay away from my own blood? I can't do it, when he'd be in front of me. You can't do this to me. You can't do this to him."

"If him being in front of you is the problem, then you won't see him again."

"What..."

"I was here because someone said that this place would keep us safe from my father. Guess I'll find another court to keep him safe."

"You can't..."

She gave him a hard stare. "I can and I will."

Then she turned and went to retrieve her son. As soon as she entered the art studio, Fin ran upto her, giggling.

"Hello again mama!"

Y/n smiled. "Hello baby. Did you enjoy?"

"Yes! I also made a new friend. Come." He dragged her to where Feyre was sitting, a small boy speaking enthusiastically to her as she smiled. Fin touched the other boys shoulder, who immediately grinned when he turned. "Mama, this is Nyx."

"Hello Nyx. How are you doing today?" Y/n asked, crouching down. She knew exactly who Nyx was, she had heard that the High Lord of Night had a son, but she hadn't wanted to believe it.

Nyx looked exactly like Fin, and it unnerved her. Only difference was that Fin's eyes were so dark they were almost black, and his hair, which was white. Y/n's mother had white hair, and that's where Fin got it from.

Feyre's hand which was resting on Nyx's shoulder tightened, and when Y/n glanced at her, she realised Feyre thought Y/n wanted to hurt him. The both of them maintained eye contact, for long enough that Feyre understood that Y/n would never hurt any child, it didn't not matter that the child in question was a stark reminder that her first and only love had left her for someone else.

"I am good. How are you?" Nyx said, then glanced at his mother to see if he'd said the right thing. Feyre smiled and nodded.

That was when Rhysand stepped into the art studio. When Y/n glanced at him, he froze. When he found her talking to his son, he came to stand next to Feyre, his eyes now locked on Fin.

"Mama, remeber how I said I wanted a baby brother? Nyx's younger than me and I feel like he's my younger brother." Fin said, and Nyx nodded enthusiastically as the two boys started taking excitedly.

The two kids didn't notice that their parents had gone rigid, staring at them.

Y/n glanced at Feyre, who stared at her, her eyes swirling with emotion. Y/n swallowed before smiling. "That he could be. But can we talk about it some other time? Is getting late. We need to go home."

"Okay mama. Bye bye Nyx." Fin waved at Nyx, who waved back.

Before they could exit the studio though, Feyre walked upto Y/n.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you two were–"

But Y/n smiled, shaking her head. "Its okay. It's not your fault he's an– a bad person." She barely stopped herself from saying asshole. Fin peeked at her curiously as she said goodbye to Feyre, patting her shoulder, before walking out.

•○🌑○•

Y/n stared fondly at her son as she and Fin sat on a bench right next to the Sidra. They were in an ice cream parlour's outdoor seating area as Fin happily licked away at the treat in his hands.

It had been a week since they had gone to the High Lady's art studio. He had expected to go there again, but Y/n didn't trust Rhysand, and so Fin had given her an offer. She had to let him have ice cream for a whole week without restrictions and paint with him if she didnt want him to go to the art studio.

Y/n had, of course, agreed, shaking her head at her sons antics. That little boy was smart, and he had somehow picked up on his mother's unease around Nyx's father.

After she had agreed to his terms though, he had laughed and said he didn't even want to go there again and just wanted her to agree to his demands. Y/n had gaped at his little figure as he ran off to play with his toys.

While Y/n was busy with her thoughts, she didn't realise Fin had finished his ice cream and was now staring at someone nearby.

Y/n realised it was a male, who leaned against the railing and was making faces at Fin, who giggled. He had red hair and amber eyes, and he was easily the most beautiful man Y/n had ever seen. She smiled. It was heartwarming that a stranger would do something to make her son happy.

"Mama, he has red hair." Fin stated, making her blink.

"Yes darling, he does." Y/n muttered as she cleaned his face of the sticky dessert, wiping his hands down. "Why are you telling me that?"

"I have not seen many people with red hair." He said before jumping off the bench and running towards the exit. He was halfway to it when he tripped over his own feet.

Y/n shot up, running to him. But before she could get to him, the stranger was already helping him up.

"You shouldn't run. You'll get hurt." The red haired male said as he brushed down Fin. Y/n reached them just then, crouching next to the male.

"Are you okay? How many times do I have to tell you to not run." She murmured, clutching her son to her chest. When he pulled away, there were fat tears running down his chubby cheeks. "What happened? Did you get hurt?" He nodded, pointing to his knees, which had scraped and blood seeped from the tiny cut on it. "Oh my poor baby. We'll get you patched up, yeah?" He nodded again.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk very nicely with that wound. Let me help you." He suddenly picked Fin up, standing.

"It's okay. I'll take him. " She stood and turned to the male, who shook his head.

"Please, I'll be happy to help."

Y/n knew it was dangerous to trust someone who she just met, but for some reason, she felt like she could trust this male. So she told him that her house was nearby.

During the whole walk, she stayed silent, studying the man, who was talking to Fin as if his life depended on it. She felt like she knew him somehow, but that would be impossible.

Soon, they were at the apartment that they lived in, and the man dutifully handed her son back to Y/n.

"I don't think I caught your name."

"Eris." He smiled, looking for any reaction on her face.

She wracked her brain for something, anything that she might know about an Eris. And then it clicked.

"You're the High Lord of Autumn Court. What are you doing in Velaris?"

He shrugged. "I was allowed entry due to an alliance with the High Lord. First time visiting this place."

Y/n nodded. Then she said goodbye to Eris, turning to go into her apartment when Fin waved to him, smiling. "Bye bye."

"Bye Finnian."

"Will we meet again?" Y/n froze, staring at the little kid in her arms before glancing at Eris.

"I sure hope so. And if your mother allows it." He said, his eyes twinkling and curling at the edges.

Fin cheered, before Eris bowed and walked away, hands in pockets. Y/n watched after him, wondering for a moment before entering her house.

She knew if Fin met Eris again, he would be very happy. She hoped they would, as she wanted nothing more than her son's happiness.

And somewhere, deep inside her soul, something ancient and primal would also be happy, but she didn't know that.

The ancient and primal thing which had begun to come out of hiding, slowly but surely.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess

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