#and like most of it is irrelevant to your ask but I just felt the need to unpack everything I thought about that trope

[wordsofwhimsy]

Power Play ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Pairing: Omni-Mark x f!CEO!Reader

Warnings: None

Genres: Fem!Dom budding romantic adventure (what a description lmao)

Word Count: 1330

Synopsis: Omni-Mark thought he was the superior being in any room he entered, that is until he met you.

Inspiration: “I’m Sprung” – T-Pain

a/n: when i tell y’all i am strugglinggg with the next part for Shattered Affections i feel like my brain is going to melt out of my ears. so i had to take a break from it and write something quick & fun instead

Omni-Mark always prided himself on being the epitome of control. Super strength, near invulnerability, the kind of cool and collected confidence that made people look twice. Yet, despite all of that, there was one thing that had him completely off-balance: you.

He’d seen you before, of course. Your sleek, perfectly tailored suits, the way you commanded attention with nothing more than a look, a sharp word, or the sheer force of your presence. As CEO of the most powerful tech conglomerate in the world, you were a woman who didn’t need to ask for respect – it was given, the moment you entered a room.

But Omni-Mark wasn’t just mesmerized by the way you carried yourself. No. What had him sprung was how effortlessly you seemed to break through all the walls he'd so carefully built around himself. It wasn’t just your power or authority. It was the way you saw him – like he was more than just a suit of armor and raw power. You didn’t need saving, but you saw him, and that made him feel something he couldn’t even begin to describe.

He still remembered the first time you’d asked him to meet. The corporate event at the annual tech summit. He’d been there, of course, his presence always required when heroes and villains needed to play nice for the sake of business. But that night, when you’d extended your hand to him with a smile that was both knowing and curious, something inside him had snapped.

“Invincible, right?” Your voice had been smooth, rich with a slight but powerful edge. It made his name sound like a compliment, like you knew the weight of it.

"Yes," he’d said, his throat suddenly dry. "Nice to meet you, uh... Miss Y/L/N." He stumbled over the words, heart hammering in his chest.

But you hadn’t let that fluster you. Instead, you leaned in a little closer, as if you were truly interested, and he swore he could feel the heat of your gaze sink into him. “I like what I see,” you had said, barely above a whisper. “I think we could make a lot of things happen together.”

Make a lot of things happen. A simple phrase, but one that had played over and over in his mind ever since. He’d seen countless powerful people come and go, but none had ever made him feel like you did.

It was stupid, really. He was a viltrumite. Strong. Unstoppable. And yet, every time he saw you, he felt a little weaker in the knees, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers.

—

Tonight was no different. He’d just left a fight—one that had left his body aching, his mind scattered. But when you texted him to meet at your office for a "quick chat," it was as though all that mattered was getting to you. You had a way of making everything else irrelevant.

His flight through the sky was sharp, clean, his usual speed, but his mind raced at a different pace. What was he even doing? He was superhuman. Yet, all he could think of was the way you looked in that black pencil skirt earlier today. The way your heels clicked with authority as you walked through your skyscraper. And the way you spoke to him when no one else was around—soft, but no less commanding.

When he arrived, he touched down in front of the glass building. His stomach flipped at the sight of the towering structure, where everything seemed to be in its place, and yet somehow, the only thing that truly made him feel grounded was you.

The elevator ride up was quick, his mind swirling. He wasn’t sure what to expect from tonight. Maybe another conversation that would leave him tangled in his own thoughts, or maybe, just maybe, something more.

The doors slid open, and there you were, waiting for him in your office. The blinds were pulled back, and the night’s skyline sprawled out beneath you. You looked every bit the CEO—cool, collected, in control. But there was something in your eyes as they met his that made his breath catch.

“Mark,” you said, standing from your desk with a slow, deliberate movement. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

He couldn’t help but smirk, the tension between them thickening. “You call, I come. That’s the deal, remember?”

A small, amused smile danced across your lips, but it was the glint in your eyes that got him. You were testing him. Pushing his boundaries, like you always did. And for all his strength and invulnerability, he found himself falling deeper into the trap.

You stepped closer, a move so confident it left him breathless. “You’re always so serious, Mark. Don’t you ever just let go?”

Your words hung in the air, daring him to admit what he already knew: that the stoic mask he wore was slipping, and it was because of you. He was trying to keep his composure, but you were already too close, your perfume an intoxicating blend of power and elegance. It clouded his senses, and he swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

“I… I don’t know if I can let go,” he finally admitted, voice low, strained. “But you make it hard not to try.”

Your smile widened, satisfaction lighting your face. “That’s the idea, Mark.”

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the air between you thick. Your gaze softened, and he found himself mesmerized by the way you looked at him, like you truly saw him—beyond the hero, beyond the mask. It made his heart beat a little faster.

He knew the risks. He knew how easily things could go wrong. But right now, with you standing in front of him, there was only one thing on his mind.

You stepped closer to him, eyeing him evenly for a moment before gesturing to the chair across from you.

“Sit,” you commanded, your voice cool and unwavering.

Mark’s eyes flickered to the chair, his stoic expression momentarily shifting as if weighing the command. But he didn’t resist. He simply lowered himself into the seat, every muscle in his body tense yet still, as if awaiting the next move.

You paced around him, slow and deliberate, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each step. The sound echoed around the room, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way he was already reacting to your presence. His gaze tracked you as you moved, his breathing shallow, betraying just how much control you had over him without even touching him.

You circled him a few times, each lap making him more and more aware of the power you wielded. The tension in his shoulders, the slight clenching of his jaw—it was all confirmation that you had him right where you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stopped in front of him. You stood there for a moment, your eyes locking with his. And without breaking your gaze, you lifted your foot and placed it in his lap, delicately at first to gauge his reaction before pressing harder into his crotch.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white, but there was no fight in him. No resistance. Only the mild hint of a groan being suppressed in his throat.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. The words were simple, but they were enough to make his heart race. You could see it in his eyes now—the realization that he was completely under your control.

“You’re mine now,” you added softly, the power of those words settling between you both, unspoken yet undeniable. And with that, you knew for sure that Invincible, the powerful and stoic hero, had become your willing captive, and he wouldn’t fight it. Not now, not ever. And your fun with your new toy was only just getting started.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet X F!Reader Smut Oneshot

VERY SMUTTY SMUT, 18+

FINALLY finished! This was so fun to write, but I've been so distracted recently that I haven't been able to work on any of my hobbies. I apologize for going AWOL for like, what, a month? Anyway, hopefully finishing this will be the start of bringing writing back in my life. Enjoy, L fans, and let me know if you have ideas for more!

Warnings/contents: Oral (reader recieving), PinV, cowgirl, happy trail, slight amounts of biting, and a very tired man

L has been working far too much, and it's showing. Not only has he not been leaving the CTV screens, he's stopped sleeping all together. Not even at his seat. For someone so smart, you'd think he'd know to take better care of himself.

Well, tonight, he's finally returned to your shared bedroom, only to retrieve some important flash drive. You were laying upside down on the bed, your legs propped up on the headboard and your hands busy with a rather riveting game of snake.

As soon as you heard him walk in, you perked up, flipping around and watching him with intent, your phone playing a sad little song at your loss of the now irrelevant game. "Hey! are you done working?"

He had his hands in his pockets, his steps light but slow as he felt weighed down by his lack of energy. "I'm never done working," he answered simply, walking to the nightstand and crouching down in front of it.

He opened a drawer, which contained a safe. He typed in the 12 digit code, opening it and finding a few small files and three flash drives...none of which were the right one. "I put it right here...did you take the red drive from this safe," he asked with slightly narrowed eyes, turning to the left to face you.

"No...is something missing?"

He examined you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, taking in everything about you. This was the problem, he could never tell if you were lying. Whether it was that he was so infatuated with you he couldn't imagine you lying to him, or if you were simply that good, It was frustratingly inconvenient. Perhaps you simply never lied...that was the delirium from not sleeping speaking, most definitely.

"Are you lying," he asked simply.

"No, unfortunately. I wish I had it...I can help you look," you say sweetly.

"I will find it myself...thank you," he nodded, throwing the polite thanks on the end.

"If you say so," you say in obvious skepticism.

He stands back up, looking down at you as you laid back once more. "Do you doubt my ability," he asked challengingly.

"Well...no...It's just..." you look back up at his big, tired eyes, his face discreetly shifting back and forth between curiosity and annoyance.

You look back to your phone. "You've been so tired, you're running on fumes...I just don't think you're in the right place to be effectively searching for and finding things...or, remembering where you put things...or...doing detective work..."

Silence.

You slowly look back up at him, already wincing at how he must look. When your eyes met his, he just seemed...surprised?

"Do you really think my lack of sleep is affecting my efficiency in a palpable way?" He seemed to be considering the notion.

"I do. Very much so."

"Well...I don't have time to sleep," he mused lowly.

you could work with this. "Would you at least shower? It could help you relax, get your mind off things. It'd only take, like, what, 20 minutes?"

He thought about this.

"I suppose it may assist me in 'getting my mind off things'," he sighed. "Fine. But I'd like you to look for that flash drive while I'm gone," he said firmly. Even without the team around, he still acted like he was your boss. You looked up at him with raised brows.

"...please." This energy deficit was making it harder to engage in social conventions, it took a level of consciousness he did not have currently. Another reason he needed sleep.

"Sure," you said with a smile, sitting up. "Go on, go shower, I'll start looking right now," you assured, standing and guiding him to the bathroom. He walked on his own, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed, turning to face the room, scanning it, your brow furrowed. Then, the water turned on. You glanced to the door. You could hear the rhythm of the raining droplets interrupted by him getting in.

With a deep breath, you relax, walking to the nightstand and opening it back up. You typed in the code to the safe, It was a seemingly randomized combination of the numbers within you and Watari's respective birthdays.

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the flash drive, placing it atop everything else. You'd have to confess and apologize later, for tricking him. You really just needed a reason to get him away from his computer.

With a satisfied huff, you laid back down, continued your game of snake, and waited for him to get out.

fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door gently pushed open, and out L walked, seeming slightly better. he had a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, a slight and sparse amount of black hair barely visible above the pristine white of the fabric. Another towel was slung around his shoulders, catching the water dripping from his spiked black hair.

perfection.

You sat on the edge of the bed, smiling happily at him. "Hey, how do you feel? Better? About the flash-"

"I'd like to have sex."

Your mouth hung open for a moment, the suddenness shocking you. You supposed it was because he was lacked so much energy before, because him being so direct wasn't rare in the slightest. Meanwhile, he simply stared at you, waiting for a proper response.

"Right...right now?"

"Do you have any other plans?"

"Well, no," you say, laughing a little. "I thought you were tired. You should be tired."

"I am tired, but I've come to the conclusion that sex with you would be beneficial, more so than the shower, and more time efficient than proper rest."

You just laughed even more, giggling at his frankness. "Sure, yeah...so, I'm assuming you'll want to get straight to things? make it quick?" Nothing was unexpected with him, that was for sure.

"Well...not without foreplay. I'm not completely helpless," he muttered, his brows furrowing slightly at the insinuation he wouldn't. He could tell that's what you were thinking.

"Is that so? Here I was, thinking you'd leave me high and dry," you tease.

He took a step closer, before putting his foot up and onto the bed next to you and leaning over you. His hands were at his hips, the natural placement for him after so much time putting them in his pockets. "Do you think that lowly of me," he asked softly. His eyes were half lidded, staring deep into yours as if he were reading your soul, and his lips were parted, slowly taking in air, his breath warm against your face, so impossibly close to you.

Your skin was warming, blood rushing to your cheeks and nose as you take in the sight before you. Then, you smile, bringing your hands to cup his face. "You're trying too hard," you taunt, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. He closed his eyes, and when you pull away he leans in farther for a beat, as if he's trying to chase you. His serious expression disappears, and he sits up just a little more. "Am I," he asked, genuinely, cocking his head a little in curiosity.

He just makes you giggle, he's so funny without even realizing. "Yes," you laugh jokingly, nodding for a moment before you calm down. Then you lean in a little more, glancing down at the foot propped up on the bed, and quietly say, "No. It's nice, fun...but, I'd rather you just be yourself." You tilt your head up, your lips brushing against his, before you give him a true kiss.

He closes his eyes, a shiver running up his spine, and when your mouth opens to slide your tongue across his bottom lip, he gladly opens his own. Your hands stay to the sides of his face, and his eventually make their way to your shoulders. You stop for a moment, scooting backward. Without even thinking, he sits completely on the bed, just to follow your lips, and as a reward you waste no time kissing him again.

You stay like that for a while, making out while he sort of straddles your legs in his usual crouch, until he moves past your mouth and to your jaw. It surprises you for a moment, but you quickly adjust, your hand moving to his damp hair to steady yourself.

He leaves wet, meaningful kisses up your jawline, his hand sliding up to your neck to hold you in place. "Did you know," he starts, planting a kiss to the spot where your ear meets your jaw. "That the ear is one of the most sensitive parts of the body," he finishes, kissing at the shell of your ear and sucking on your lobe for a moment. He wasn't even trying to be overly sexy, at least not in his words, you could tell he simply said it because your ear made him think of it, but the candidness of this moment that was so L made you melt...especially because of his soft, low voice.

"Is that so," you ask, your voice wavering a little.

you could feel his smile against the skin of your ear as he left another impassioned kiss to the shell. "It appears it is," he hummed, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Maybe he was trying.

You could do nothing but let out a nervous giggle, your back arching upward until your chest met his. You turned your head, your ear no longer accessible to him, and planted a kiss to the side of his neck. You could feel him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. You kissed him again, this time slowly, and his hand moved to be in your hair, the other planted firmly on the top of your hip to steady himself.

You take the moment to remove the towel around his waist, glancing down to see just what you were working with...and there he was.

He was fully erect, around 6 inches, the pale pink tip beading with pre. Perfect. You almost reached out to touch him, to please him, but...

Finally, and rather suddenly, he mutters, "Sit back....please."

You don't argue, you just...do. You sit back from him. You could have kept going, just to tease him, but just in case he was overwhelmed, you sat back.

He wasn't overwhelmed, to your delight, and you knew because he leaned forward and brings his lips to your clavicle, placing a gentle but impassioned kiss there. He hears your breath catch, and as he looks up at you with his usual moon-eyed stare, he catches the way your nostrils flare, and your lips part. "You are aroused," he states softly, his hands running up your sides and under your shirt.

"I am," you titter, his cool hands sending a shiver up your spine as you watch him intently.

"If you take your shirt off, I may be able to assist you," he hums sarcastically, a slight, gentle smile across his face.

You roll your eyes, a big smile on your face as you remove your shirt, setting it aside. You take your bra off too, and your pants for good measure. The only thing left on you is your underwear, something that, as he trails feather light kisses down the valley of your breast and the center of your abdomen, he carefully removes with his thumbs and index fingers. By now, he's on his knees and bent forward completely, his hands holding your legs apart as he brings himself to be face to face with your aching folds.

he gazes up at you, not in question but in curiosity, almost a way to tease you. do you want this? how badly? you really want this, don't you?

He slowly licks his lips as his eyes flick back down to what was before him. He sticks his tongue out, giving a long, tentative lap up from your entrance to your clitoris. as his tongue slides up your clit, beneath the hood, your hips buck, just enough to let him know you're excited. With that, his lips lock onto it, his eyes half lidded as he lavishly sucks and laps, soft groans reverberating through you ever so gently as he pleasures you.

He always seems to enjoy this as much as you do, and with each moan you release, he responds to you with a particularly angled prod of his tongue, or a vibrating groan in return, rewarding the crescendo of your sounds.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, nestling in the soft black stands and gently pulling at the base. At the feeling, he releases a breath he seemed to have been holding, the air fanning against the skin of your thighs and lower abdomen. The sturdy grip he has on your hips tightens a little, and as your hips stutter with the eventual arrival of your orgasm, he looks back up at you, his eyes peering, examining, daring you to look anywhere but at him. You can't help but to stare back.

With one final lap of his tongue, you finish, back arching, head tossing back, your voice ringing through the room in what he can only describe as the song of the angels. He helps you through, gently sucking on your clit, and when you finally come down from it, he pulls away, licking the fluid from his chin and upper lip. It was sort of endearing, watching him do something that looked so...stupid, to put it bluntly.

You laugh despite your panting, smiling as he sits back with his knees rather relaxed compared to usual, not to his chest, although arched halfway there. "you were...considerably louder than usual. has it been a long time since you've experienced an orgasm?"

you almost wanted to chide him for asking a question that had such an obvious answer, but you supposed it was good he didn't negate the fact that you could self pleasure. "Nope. I guess you could say I've been saving myself for you," you sigh teasingly, crawling closer, over his legs, bringing your face and hips above his, respectively.

He instinctively takes your hips, looking up at you with a thoughtful expression. "Why would you do something like that," he asked disdainfully.

You laugh a little. "Does it matter?"

He pauses, looking to your hips. "I suppose not. It makes no difference to me," he muses.

You smile down at him with endearment, your hands sliding to his shoulders. No time to waste.

You lower yourself down his vehemently leaking cock, his grip tightening around you as you push yourself past his tip.

he leaned forward, his knees coming up, your body now between his chest and his legs as your hips met his. he wasn't especially girthy, but his length more than made up for it. You take in a breath, steadying on his shoulders, and slowly slide upward.

He watches with a sort of aroused fascination as you begin to ride him, his eyes not leaving the sight of your body taking his dick in and out, watching and feeling every twitch, listening to every sound, the variations, the angles, everything perceived. You wouldn't think he was enjoying himself all too much, given the fact he was only releasing tempered pants and the occasional hum, but it was his attention that gave it away. Nothing besides his work, and now you, has captured his attention so quickly and so intensely.

If he weren't so tired and in need of a proverbial "quickie," he'd have you in as many different positions as possible. He has a need to see every facet of you, to know how you look and feel and sound in every angle and situation...but, for now, the usual cowgirl will do. And it does, it does rather nicely.

He only looks up at your face when he takes notice of your own noises, growing in volume and desperation. Of course, when he looks up, he can really only see your tits, bouncing away, and he really has no choice but to lavishly suck on your nipple. a formality, truly. The sounds and expressions that elicits is simply heavenly.

He grips your hips tighter, and as the air from his nose fans across your chest, he thrusts himself up. You cry out, his tip unexpectedly hitting your cervix, and all you can do now is shift back and forth as he thrusts up, peer into his large observant eyes as he tongues your breast and uses your body as he wishes. The sight, the feeling, the sounds, it was all too much for you. You moan louder and louder, signaling an orgasm, and the moment his tip pounds a particular spot, you're done. Your hips buckle, your body shakes, and best of all for him, your walls constrict.

in mere moments after you, he begins to truly moan, his cheeks flushing as his orgasm grows closer. After one particularly fast and hard jerk of his hips, he's calling out your name, his teeth pressing into your chest as his lashes flutter, his cum releasing within you in quick spurts, riding the wave as your hips roll against his.

He said this would be quick, a way to relax while staying time efficient, but fortunately he was too tired to take his own tiredness into account. He fell completely asleep beside you, his head pressed into your chest and his legs pressed to your torso as you stroked his hair. He'd sleep for the next 14 hours, and while you got up to pick up the slack at work, get something to eat, or use the restroom, you always returned to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Extra!-

you sit, resting your weight on your elbow, while he sleeps curled beside you. As you idly play with his hair...guilt strikes.

"L? Honey? You awake?"

Silence.

"I have to tell you-" you whisper- "I hid the flashdrive. I'm sorry. You just needed rest and um...yeah. that's it...so there."

You sigh. That felt nice, no consequences, just relief.

"...where did you hide it?"

You jump, and look down at him. His eyes were open, and staring at your side. "Oh, shit," you laugh, pressing a hand to your chest. "You scared me!"

He slowly sits up on his arm, just as you, and the very first thing he does is grab your waist to carefully tug you closer. "And you hid the flashdrive. Where?"

You bring your hand back to his hair, and he rests his face to your collarbone. "My tits. Where else?"

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, and presses a gentle kiss to your skin. "I suppose I can forgive it...though...I'm regretting allowing you to do the search."

"Immature," you tease.

"Lustful," he corrects.

You look down at him, and his thumb slides back and forth against your rib. "We have time to-"

"I'm afraid not." He sits all the way up, scratches his head, and slides out of bed.

"Awww, come on," you whine, watching as he shuffles to the door. "Where do I have to hide the next flashdrive to make you stay?"

He pauses, glances back, and locks his dark, sleepy eyes on yours for several seconds.

"I...suppose I have a few moments to spare."

I genuinely looked like coraline's dad writing this. I had fun, but wow was I lethargic. I'd like to do this again though, hopefully when I'm feeling more determined!

Taglist: @cheekyweekymouse

[chanafehs]

My Veilguard review:

Note - I will be honest in saying this is very long and very negative. If you enjoy this game please don't let me be the one to ruin that for you and skip on this post. I will be discussing spoilers. This is just my opinion so please don't crucify me for it.

I think my thoughts about this game were shaky to begin with as I had been exposed to different spoilers and information before the launch. I wasn’t actually expecting this game to be amazing but as someone whose favorite Dragon Age game is Dragon Age 2, which is arguably the weakest in the series (until now), I still went in with the impression I would have a good time regardless. I did not have that at all, in fact towards the end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3 all I wanted was for the game to be over. 

The problems for me really started right in the beginning with the Inquisitor character choices and their characterization. No choices for your Warden, no choices for your Hawke, and only three choices for your Inquisitor out of the dozens you made in Inquisition. The romance option just felt like a very polite way of asking if you romanced Solas or not, especially after completing the game where your non-solas romance will only get one letter for you to read, outside of that, the Inquisitor will not even mention them. Disbanding the Inquisition meant basically nothing and vowing to stop Solas felt like it had little bearing on what my Inquisitor said when she showed up. 

The time frame to make Dragon Age 2 was just over a year and somehow included more choices from Origins than Veilguard did with over ten years of production. That is the information that's been banging around in my head throughout this entire game. In Dragon Age 2, we get the consequences of our decisions with Alistair’s fate and we get extra dialogue concerning Isabela/Zevran/Leliana/Anders/Nathaniel + some sidequests. Veilguard couldn’t even give us so much of a mention of our Inquisitor’s friendships and the consequences of those friendships outside of Solas. The Inquisitors themselves are locked into one personality type as well, and regardless if you choose to stop Solas or not, they are very amicable toward him. 

During the second cut scene you get with the Inquisitor in Dock Town, they will go on to ask you about your progress and then go on about Solas. Mind you, my Inquisitor is extremely unsympathetic to Solas and I chose the option to stop him no matter what, so why is it that every time I speak to her, she keeps trying to ask me if Solas is being genuine and that he was her friend? That doesn’t sound like someone who has vowed to stop him. They will also try to draw parallels between you, Rook, and Solas. Even at the end of the game, they will still try to appeal to you to see reason with him. That is essentially all the Inquisitor is there for. Incredibly frustrating. 

Throughout the game you will get missives from the Inquisitor detailing the devastation that is being brought to southern Thedas and every letter feels like more and more of an insult. To keep it short: Southern Thedas as we know it has been essentially wiped out. I think that deserves more than a footnote in some missive most players aren’t even going to see.

So the setting we spent all three games in, that we saved countless times, had our companions and protagonists die for, gets demolished in the background where we cannot see it. Skyhold had to be taken back from demons and whoops, that's not actually something you can do anything about. Nothing the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor ever did mattered at all and it renders everything from the previous games absolutely irrelevant. 

With that aside, the companions are also another issue for me. I found myself having trouble getting attached to any of them and every single time I recruited one I had the internal question “Why are you even here?” None of their companion quests really tie into the story at large, save maybe Harding and Davrin, and they are incredibly boring save for a few cool moments.

The main appeal of Dragon Age for me is the companions, it’s why Dragon Age 2 is my favorite of the series. Despite the overused environments and the rushed production I still had a great time with it because of the companions. I was actually eager to do the companion quests and learn more about them and how they all fit into the main narrative. Even characters I didn’t like, I still understood why they were important to the story. Like I can’t stand Anders but I know why he is there, he has a purpose.

Every companion is painfully amicable towards you even if you decide to be “stern” towards them. I found myself not caring what dialogue option I chose about them because it made absolutely no difference. There is nice, funny nice, and gentle parenting. That is really all you have to work with in terms of the dialogue wheel. It was more difficult to get disapproval than approval and I can probably count on my fingers every time in this game I actually got companion disapproval. There is only one companion in my playthrough that became hardened, Lucanis, and it had virtually no impact on his character other than the fact he leaves for a couple of saves and comes back to kissing your ass. 

Something I actually really liked about BG3 and the previous Dragon Age games was working for your companion approval - this meant actually learning about your companion and what made them tick. If you don't understand them well enough you get disapproval, when you actually listen to their ideas and thoughts you get approval - there is an active effort to get these things. In Veilguard this does not exist and you are essentially promised approval no matter what, meaning there is no encouragement to know who these people are if they're just going to support you regardless.

I have to agree with the Skillup review they made about this game saying that every dialogue option feels like it was made with HR in the room and I one hundred percent agree. This is not how real people talk to each other. This is how teachers talk to toddlers when they want to explain the virtues of sharing toys with their classmates.

It felt honestly insulting at times to be treated like I don’t understand the concept of bigotry, I still have no idea what they were trying to go for with this, like were they trying to appeal to a market of high school boys who hadn’t discovered what empathy was yet? There is zero trust in the player and every dialogue and decision you make in these moments feels handhold-y and preachy. Like Pixar levels of life lessons you learn.

In the moments where I had to settle arguments over coffee and companions not respecting each other's interests, I could not honestly believe this is the same universe with Loghain Mac Tir, Meredith Stannard, fuck even Corypheus. Humor has always existed in Dragon Age and I love the comedic banter between the characters but it was always humor that served as an escape from the oppressive and dark situation around you, here the dark and oppressive situations feel like an escape from the unrelenting friendliness and tone deafness of your companions. 

The companion I probably had the most issue with was Taash and the way they were handled. I’m not going to get too deep into the Bharv scene because even thinking about it makes me cringe but If someone messed up my pronouns and then immediately dropped to do pushups I am most definitely killing us both. Isabela’s explanation is extremely preachy and she proceeds to do the exact thing she says she hates about people messing up pronouns. Anyways. Moving on. 

Taash I think is a good example of how to not write a multiethnic character. I don’t expect a white person like Trick Weekes to understand the first thing that comes with being multiethnic or having strict parents that intersects with that identity but it is most definitely not whatever the hell this is. 

The only thing I can offer here is that as a multiethnic person (my father is Palestinian and my mother is mainly Irish and Seminole) is that there has never been a point in my life where I felt like I had to choose what culture I am let alone give that choice to someone else in my life I just met.

That’s not what being multiethnic is. I do not have to choose between anything - I am whole and I don't need to cut myself into halves and quarters to be accepted.

It also feels subconsciously like you are supposed to choose Rivain as the Qunari are depicted as bigoted and oppressive as they always have been in this game. Knowing all of this really tainted my experiences with them as a character and I understand a lot of other non-binary individuals love the representation they brought on that level but personally, I’m just tired of “queer representation” always coming with racist undertones. Again, this game feels like it always had white queer people in mind, not lgbt poc. 

These kinds of comments are really only made worse knowing what the Qunari take inspiration from - primarily Black and Brown SWANA Muslims. Why should Trick Weekes have any authority over a questline like that is beyond me. 

Also, this sucked. Especially because they said it to Neve too. I don’t really want my non-binary representation sprinkled with Misogyny as well, especially since we can’t really call Taash out on this comment unless you’re playing a woman (as far as I know).

Aside from Taash, I thought the writing around Harding was strange. Don’t me wrong, I love Harding, but I do not remember her being this friendly and people-pleasing in the Inquisition. If you play as a Dalish elf the first thing she says is she’s surprised that you would care about anyone else - there is absolutely no inclination of this kind of perspective in Veilguard. Additionally, despite knowing everything Solas has done and the consequences that had on her ancestors, she still tries to push you to reason with him?

All of her quests about learning about the Titans, experiencing and embracing their anger, and you still want to appeal to Solas? That was another thing I found so weird about this game, throughout the entire story you are being told again and again that Solas cannot be trusted, he is to blame for everything, and will stab you in the back and yet it seems like every companion tries to push back on you if you agree with this viewpoint? 

Also, something I didn't know at this point of the game but I do now is that Solas had killed Varric and she does know this so why is she acting like this knowing Solas had killed her friend who she spent years with?

Genuinely this whole game felt like: Devs: Solas is a villain

Rook: okay understood

Devs: actually nvm you don't understand him if you think he's a villain

The only companion quests I was actually genuinely interested in were Emmrich and his thoughts around death and becoming a lich. Lucanis' quests had the best boss fights for sure. Outside of that, it felt like “Go here with Bellara” or “Go here with Taash” and it got so grating I couldn’t wait for these quests to be over so I could progress with the main story. It felt like an annoying back-and-forth game to finish a main quest just to finish all the companion quests and then go back to the main quest. Like a list of chores to get through before you can have any fun. 

The inclusion of characters like Morrigan and Isabela in this universe was extremely hollow and they do not feel like the Morrigan and Isabela we know at all. With Morrigan there is a bit of an explanation to this with the essence of Mythal however she reiterates that it is still herself and it is only the memories of Mythal that remain inside of her.

In my canon playthroughs of Dragon Age, I romanced both Morrigan and Isabela, so I was curious to see how the developers would address their pasts with our Warden and Hawke. Unfortunately, the answer is that they don’t address it at all. Morrigan hardly mentions her past, leaving us to wonder if Kieran even exists. The game implies that the relationship between Morrigan and the Warden is insignificant; a codex entry oddly suggests, in a very slut-shamey way, that Morrigan had more lovers than there are trees in the forest. Isabela doesn't reference Hawke either, as she fondly remembers Kirkwall for found family and friendship. It seems that if you romanced Isabela or Morrigan, congratulations—your canon doesn’t exist.

I will echo the statement others have made about all the cameos feeling like mascots because that is really what they are. There is no substance to any of them, Isabela only feels like she is there to be a supportive voice for Taash, Morrigan will only really talk about Solas and Mythal-Dorian is the only one who actually gets a substantial quest related to him. I thought he was fine minus the "illegal slavery" bit because what is illegal slavery Dorian. Next up we will discuss legal murder.

Another thing that genuinely broke the immersion for me in this game is how awful the armor is. It is a Dragon Age game so I wasn't expecting Haute Couture but the design is all over the place and nothing looks right. Not to mention the extremely weird orientalist undertones that follow the Lords of Fortune everywhere. The outfit Isabela is wearing is even worse in person and I tried to give this game the benefit of the doubt by thinking we would be getting some underwater mission with her and that would be the explanation behind her bikini outfit - this did not happen.

The belly dancer-esque outfits with the coin-bedazzled turbans were pretty egregious and made me want to limit my time in Rivain as much as possible. For a game released in 2024, I am disappointed we are still dealing with the same Orientalist fantasy tropes. Even the Qunari are more naked in this game than I had ever seen previously. At least DA2 and DAI gave them pants. But hey the Antaam are all blighted and evil so who cares right.

Speaking of the Antaam, a lot of the antagonist motivations for this game genuinely did not make sense to me. The Antaam are suddenly giving up their fear of magic to pair up with...the Venatori? To fight for the elven gods? It honestly felt like they had no idea who to make fight for the Evanuris so they just pulled two of the baddies from the Inquisition and went "We can just use them and call it done". When you press for information on why this is the answer is always a mustache-twirling dialogue about power. Nothing much deeper from that than any of the villains besides Solas. All of the villains, especially Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, are extremely one-dimensional and have no motivations other than being evil and striving for power. At least Corypheus had cool lines.

I'm not going to get too deep into lore changes since I know a lot of things happened in the comics, books, and TV show (all of which I did not read or watch) but I honestly do think it's a bad idea to have a "soft reboot" while needing to read several books to understand everything. That's not being welcoming to new players that's homework. If you wanted a soft reboot probably don't start off with half your plot and characters coming from various comics and novels people need to catch up on.

The portrayal of the Dalish in this game is inconsistent. When we inform them that their gods are evil and planning to overthrow the world, they respond, "Okay, heard you." How can they accept this explanation so readily? In previous interactions, Solas shared that the Dalish did not listen to him and even threatened him when he revealed this truth. Yet, when we present the same information, they believe us almost immediately. Is there no pushback or skepticism? The Dalish accept everything about the evil elven gods meanwhile Andraste’s followers remain completely unaffected by these revelations.

I think what frustrated me even more was watching our elven companions express grief and regret over the actions of the elven gods like they had something to do with it, painting the Dalish as adjacent to oppressors when they themselves are oppressed in every way. The only thing that remains consistent is the sad boy Solas act about it.

At the end of the game, two of my companions - Harding and Emmrich- were killed. Emmrich's death was unfortunately overshadowed by a zoom-in on a rock and I had no idea he had died until I got the popup. Still, all I can think about is just going "Rock moment" when he died. I don't really have anything negative to say about Harding's death other than the way she went out was fitting for her narrative. Bellara got blighted and there were no consequences for this and she walked away from it - forgive me but I am still under the DAO impression that if you get blighted that's game over but all the rules about the Blight have been changed in this.

I decided to trick Solas, and honestly, I don’t have anything negative to say about it, except that Solas should have noticed me holding the fake dagger since it was clearly in his line of sight. I liked the idea of outsmarting the god of trickery. While it wasn’t extremely satisfying, but I’m okay with how it turned out.

Even as the credits began rolling I still have trouble believing rook's role in any of this. Just the persistent nagging idea that they really just have no place in this story at all. In the beginning I wanted to see how Rook is looped into all of this and how they become central to the fight against Solas but just like with most of the companions, I have no idea why they are here. This should've been the Inquisitor's story to finish.

I'm not going to pretend that everything about this game was irredeemable and terrible. There were genuinely parts I enjoyed and had a good time with. The romance ending scene with Neve was fantastic, even though it took a long time to get there. Davrin was an unexpected aspect of the game that I actually liked, as I never cared much for Grey Wardens before, but he changed my perspective. Harding's mention of the Inquisition was also very sweet. Although I wasn't particularly invested in Emmrich, I loved the conclusion to his quest when he became a lich lord.

While I'm not the biggest Solas fan, I actually really enjoyed the cutscenes between him and Rook because one of my aims with this game was the ability to be mean to Solas and kick him while he was down. They definitely delivered there even though everyone else kept disagreeing with me.

The worlds are beautiful and the CC is definitely the best we've gotten in any Dragon Age game, I spent probably a solid hour in there. The hairstyles are great and the four unibrow choices? Bioware you shouldn't have <3.

Overall I definitely didn't have the best time with this game and towards the end of act 2 I was incredibly bored and the combat became repetitive and stagnant enough that I turned down the difficulty to get through it faster. I can't see myself replaying this any time soon and I am unsure what my stance on Dragon Age is now, do I Ignore this game ever existed or do I carve out everything I liked and pretend this is the Dragon Age I love? I have no idea, I am disappointed at how this game leaves us off and I really wanted to sit here and say It's good but I can't.

I think this game will reach out to and resonate with a different group of Dragon Age fans than me, I just wish I could enjoy it as much as I see other people doing. I was originally going to give this game a 3/10 but knowing you can pet the cats I will give it a very generous 3.5/10.

[crimsonnsstuff]

Warnings: perv In-ho, P in v, public sex

You first met In-ho in the most mundane of places, the local library. He was the new librarian, with a smile that seemed too eager and eyes that lingered a bit too long. From the moment you walked in, his gaze followed you like a shadow.

In-ho, with his seemingly innocent charm, had a darker side. He was a pervert, through and through, hiding his true nature behind a facade of politeness. He knew your schedule, knew which books you liked, and even knew when you preferred to sit near the window to catch the afternoon sun.

One day, as you were browsing the shelves in the back, you felt a presence behind you. It was him, In-ho, his breath warm against your neck as he whispered, "Found something interesting?" His voice was low, suggestive, making you shiver.

You turned, and his hand brushed against yours, not by accident. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger you couldn’t ignore. "I've watched you," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I know what books you like, what makes you... curious."

You notice he was being a bit..different? You hold up the book you were looking at. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to read this for a while,” you say. He smirks and takes the book out of your hand, examining the cover. He chuckles and sets it back in the shelf

Your heart raced, a mix of fear and an unexpected thrill. In-ho leaned closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "What I said a bit ago..I want to explore that curiosity with you," he murmured, his hand now resting on your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

Before you could protest, his lips found yours in a kiss that was neither gentle nor hesitant. It was possessive, claiming, and you felt his other hand slide down your back, pressing you against him. The library was silent, but your heart was anything but.

In-ho guided you to a secluded corner, hidden by shelves. His hands roamed over you, under your shirt, feeling every curve as if mapping out forbidden territory. "You're so perfect," he whispered against your skin, his kisses trailing down your neck.

His fingers worked deftly, unbuttoning your shirt, his touch sending waves of heat through you. In-ho was relentless, his desire palpable as he whispered dirty little promises into your ear, each word stoking the fire between you.

You found yourself responding, your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into this forbidden dance. In-ho's breath was ragged, his control slipping as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the extent of his want.

There, amidst the quiet of books and knowledge, you and In-ho crossed lines, lost in a haze of lust. His every touch was calculated to drive you wild, his whispers turning into moans that echoed softly in the confines of your secret corner.

He quickly crashes his lips back into yours. The kiss was so hard you were sure your lips would bruise. He desperately reaches down and unbuttons your pants, yanking them down. He doesn’t bother to take your panties off, pulling them to the side.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls his jeans down, just enough so he can take his cock out. He’s quick to slam into you, not giving you time to adjust to his length. He slams in deeper, making your legs shake.

He had your back against the wall as he thrusted into you, one of your legs hooked over his arm so he could get even deeper. You moan softly. “Don’t be shy..we’re about to close, no one’s here.” He grunts.

You let out a yelp as he punches your nipple. He lifts your leg up higher, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. “Oh my god, oh my god!” You shout as you cum on his cock. He quickly cums in you shortly after with a low growl. “Fuck, I love this slutty little pussy..”

When it was over, you both were breathless, the world outside the library seeming distant and irrelevant. In-ho looked at you with a smirk, his eyes still dark with desire. "Next week, same time?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

You left the library with your mind reeling, your body still tingling from his touch, aware that you had just started something you couldn't easily end. In-ho's obsession, it seemed, had only just begun.

[muletia]

I just read your fic about Optimus being jealous of your car/vehicle, and I present you, Megatron in his shoes:

You walked to where your vehicle was parked, but it was not there. Instead, it was a familiar-looking alien jet with a different paint job that sat nicely and politely.

You felt your blood pressure rising as you kept asking where your property is, but the lovestruck warlord insist he's your new chaperone.

Basically Megatron thinks you process colors the way female birds do to male birds.

LMAO I LOVE IT SO MUCH

the funniest part is that his alt mode probably doesn’t even have a cockpit since it’s a cybertronian fighter, and megatron is way too proud to change it. so there’s literally no way he could actively transport you. 1-0 for optimus, i guess. does that mean megs will stop trying? absolutely not. knowing him, he’d probably try to gaslight you into thinking you never needed some pathetic, inanimate car, and HE is a far better match. you do trust a sentient machine that has a vehicle more, right? the fact that said vehicle is also the leader of the decepticons is suddenly irrelevant <3

oooo, i love this idea with the birds. i don’t think megs would go as far as some species (like birds of paradise or peacocks), but there’s definitely something primal in the way he tries to impress you. he makes sure to look as shiny and polished as possible for you and sharpens his claws daily. and most importantly, he shows off his strength, proving that no other bot could ever compare to him. oh, and we could even throw mate guarding into the mix if we don’t tie it to a harem au.

or!! megs bringing you rare trinkets to impress you. when you end up in his hands, he casually gives you a piece of meteorite or a shiny stone FROM ANOTHER PLANET, and before you can even comprehend what you’re holding, bro’s like: alright, so now you’re my mate, right?

[d1s1ntegrated]

the way that fwb shiggy has taken over me

yeah he can fuck you like an animal from behind, but the second he catches feeling, he’s blushing and just a mess underneath u

fwb!shiggy hcs

nsfw, angst, etc

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he didn't plan on fucking you in the first place.

he didn't want to.

but you were both bored, and lonely, and drunk after weeks of meetings, plans falling through, and stressful missions.

it just happened. and he loved every second of it.

you had no idea, but you took his virginity. he played it off pretty well by taking you from behind, pushing your face into his worn-out mattress with four fingertips and a pinky lifted, splatter-painting your soft skin with multiple-rounds worth of cum.

that's how he did it every time.

when you asked him the first time if you could try missionary, or even cowgirl, he'd answer by folding you over and avoiding eye contact.

outside of sex, he acted like you weren't even there.

yeah, okay, he'd pay a little bit of attention to you. sometimes he'd let you hang out in his room when he was grinding on league, or he'd call you over to ask your opinion on character customization or new skins.

he'd show you his animal crossing island when you couldn't sleep.

sometimes he would text you when you were out, asking for a drink or when you'd be coming back.

but no, if you ever asked, he didn't like you. it was just convenient.

of course he took notice of how touya would sling an arm over your shoulders on the couch, but that didn't bother him.

or how you'd share memes with shuichi from across the bar-top, giggling about something irrelevant without him.

and when atsuhiro asked you to help even out his bolo tie, and you did it without asking, he didn't give a fuck. not one bit.

no, he didn't care- and that's why he spent most of his time away from everyone else. cause he didn't care what you did.

he found himself a bit angrier these days. dare i say jealous?

so when you dragged him to his late at night, like usual, he held you against his chest, wrapping an arm around your chest and holding you by your neck as he slammed into you from the back. whispering curses and degrading comments into your ear, but stammering as he did so.

like it hurt to say those things.

it took him a long time to get over it.

he came to your room this time, breath heavy with the scent of whiskey, a stain to his cheeks as he pushed you back against your clean sheets, kissing you sloppily and adjusting his gloves.

you let him, this was normal.

but when you wrapped your arms around him and really, genuinely kissed him back, it felt different. real.

he couldn't help but let a soft whimper into your mouth, rutting slowly against your thigh, tugging the hem of your shirt with a curled thumb.

you tried to undress and turn over, but he stopped you.

"wanna see your face," he slurs, "i need to see you".

you two faced each other for the first time- and he bottomed out. knees fully pressed into the mattress, barely able to hold himself up as he tried to fuck you "vanilla" style, arms shaking from the tension.

he eventually laid down, head spinning.

"get on top, my arms are nerfed" he giggles, but the sheen of embarrassment coats his cheeks.

and so, you ride him- and his mind is blown. he's noticing all the things he tried to ignore with fluttering eyes and huffed moans.

the way your hair falls against your shoulders, the soft curves that cling to either side of him, and your pretty face.

he cant help but whine. his eyes water, he's a cherry-red mess, panting and trying so so hard to keep it together.

he can't.

he cums inside of you without warning, gripping at your hips and thighs as he thrusts from under you, eyes blown wide as he coaxes you to finish alongside him.

"mine," he tries to whimper out, but his voice cracks as the euphoria splinters him, and it feels like more of a hope than a demand this time. "you're mine, right?"

he doesn't fuck you from behind after that.

he prefers seeing all of you.

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finally getting round to my inbox again <3 thank u all for waiting. we're so back :P !!!

[fairestwriting]

Hi! Congratulations on passing your exams! ���🎉 Can I request a reader who is Malleus' adopted younger sister and is dating Leona? I feel like he would be very protective either way, and given his and Leona's relationship..... This is going to be fun hehehe

THANK YOU SO MUCHH :’D i dont talk about their beef often but lord does it fascinate me. this situation is one i would study under a petri dish. but i cant do that. so i just ended up writing a long hc list hfdjg

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

See, Malleus himself doesn’t think about Leona all that much. Not as often as Leona thinks of him, at least— So the way things play out might surprise you a bit. When you actually get to speak with Leona, you might be expecting a sort of hostility that… turns out to not really be there. He’s still not really warm and welcoming while you’re still strangers, sure, but he speaks to you like the fact that you’re in Malleus’ family is just entirely irrelevant.

…Malleus, on the other hand, really doesn’t love that you’re speaking to Leona, out of all people. Despite him not thinking about him that often Despite all of his talk about how he supports you making friends, regardless of who they are. ”Out of all people in the school…” He grumbles, shaking his head. He clearly doesn’t want to come off unsupportive, while clearly not supporting the idea of you two interacting at all. ”Of course I won’t stop you from talking to other students. But, does it really have to be Kingscholar…”

And it’s weird. Of course it’s weird. You’re wondering what Leona is thinking about for a great deal of the time while you’re still not all that comfortable around each other. In the few times he’s mentioned Leona, Malleus certainly had commented on how he could be a tricky person to figure out, even if he seemed so unmotivated most of the time. He might’ve mentioned one of his previous Magift plots and everything… And if he didn’t yet, he definitely will when he finds out you two are getting closer. It’s just that he doesn’t think it’s a very good idea for you to get this close to a person like him, he’ll tell you.

Meanwhile, Leona doesn’t care… or so it seems? You mention, one time, that you’re Malleus’ adopted sister, and he just shrugs. ”Wouldn’t have guessed. You two have nothing in common.” He replies, a lot more lighthearted than you’d expect. It easily could be part of the reason you two end up being drawn to each other, you’re used to people making too much of a big deal when they talk to you, since you’re part of the Draconia family. Not as much as they do to your brother, sure, but enough for it to feel a bit suffocating at times— And Leona doesn’t do any of that.

(What’s really happening, regarding Leona “not caring”, is that he at first thought getting close to you could bring him closer to getting back at Malleus like he wanted. But then, well, it turns out that he *also* felt a bit tired of how most people treat him. And you also happened to not do that. So he actually got attached.)

”You know, your brother’s not really gonna love the news…” Leona says with a snicker, putting an arm over your shoulders when you two actually start dating. Not that he really had to, when Malleus made a point of “checking up” on you regarding your thing with Leona a little bit too often. All so, how is Kingscholar, he hasn’t disrespected you in any way, has he. And his worries sometimes come on so suddenly, it’s like he’s not acting like himself… even when you’re this close to him, and you’re so aware of how much he cares about his loved ones.

It results in this very strange, mostly unspoken truce. Malleus may be suspicious, but after enough “checkups”, he’ll accept it… kind of. He won’t stop asking you whether Leona is treating you right or not, he’ll just do it less often. And Leona himself, well… he’ll always be a little smug about the whole thing. He feels like he has the upper hand in the whole thing.

(That, and, he’d never want to distance you from your family. Blood related or not. But like many of the things he thinks, you won’t really see him admitting it.)

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[wosoloml]

— third date || alessia russo x reader

summary: after your third date with alessia things get heated and one things lead to the other

from this request

masterlist

wanrings: smut, alessia top, reader bottom, fingering, use of nicknames, oral, thats it kinda

smut but with fluff

wc: 2,464 words.

—————

"This was an amazing movie choice, I have to admit," Alessia said, her smile growing as she glanced at me.

"Really?" I arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in my voice. "I thought you hated cheesy romcoms."

Alessia stepped closer, her hands resting gently on my waist. She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned in, her voice a soft whisper. "How could I hate something so sweet when I’m experiencing it with the person who means the world to me?"

Her words made my heart flutter, but I fought to keep my composure. "God, Russo," I said with a smirk, "you should be writing those movies next time."

Something changed between us at the cinema—I could feel it.

It all began when I picked her up from her home. The way she greeted me—her smile, her tone—everything about today felt so much more intense.

From the not-so-innocent touches we exchanged at the cinema to the way her tongue slipped into my mouth when we kissed tonight, every moment carried a spark I couldn’t ignore.

And I have to admit—I liked it.

We’ve been on two other dates before today, and ever since the last time we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about taking the next step.

It won’t be our first time, but I’m still nervous. I mean, it’s the Alessia Russo. I’m sure she’s far more experienced than I am.

The way she linked her arm through mine pulled me back into reality. "Lost in your thoughts, darling?" she asked, and I felt exposed.

"I was just thinking about the movie," I tried to play it cool. "I really liked it."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing I might be holding something back. She gave my arm a gentle squeeze as we continued walking.

"The movie? That's it? Nothing else on your mind?" she teased, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

"Nothing else," I smiled innocently in her direction.

I tried to change the subject by asking if I should drop her off at home, and of course, she agreed. The drive back to her apartment was relaxed… except for her hand on my thigh, and that damn thumb of hers, slowly circling higher the closer we got to her place. It was getting harder to focus on the road with a certain blonde teasing me like that.

As we approached her door, she suddenly grew quiet and looked deep into my eyes. I knew she wanted to say something, so I stayed silent. Her voice broke the intense silence between us.

"Thanks for driving me home," she said, her voice low and sultry. I was unable to find the right words, so I pulled her close and pressed my lips to hers. After a few seconds of processing what was happening, she kissed me back. And when I say she kissed me back, I mean she kissed me back. The way her hands cupped my face, her tongue pleading for me to let her in, and the fight for dominance made me weak in the knees. I knew she liked to be the dominant one in the relationship, but I never imagined I'd enjoy it this much.

She leaned back slightly, being the first to break the silence.

"Wow, if that’s how you react every time I thank you, I should do it more often," she smirked, her mischievous grin lighting up her face. I could feel my cheeks flush, and my smile shifted into a shy giggle.

"Maybe you want to come upstairs with me? I could show you my little cozy apartment. But only if you want to—it's totally fine if you don't." She trailed off, and I had to interrupt her before she started getting too wild.

"Lessi," I said, grabbing her hand. "I'd love to come upstairs with you."

I thought it was cute how she turned all shy, asking me to come into her private space after just kissing me like that. But that’s why I fell for her.

Little did I know that the part where she shows me her apartment would be the most irrelevant one.

As Alessia pulled you into her house and closed the door behind you, she pushed you up against the wall, her lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss. Her hands roamed over your body as she pressed herself closer to you. Her lips traced a path down your jawline, finding a sensitive spot on your neck that made you gasp lightly. She noticed your soft gasp but simply smirked at your neck as she continued.

Alessia's smirk widened as she kissed and nipped at your neck, noticing the effect it had on you. Her hands slowly moved down your body, unbuttoning your shirt and revealing more of your skin to her touch.

She locked eyes with you, seeking permission. You were too lost for words, so you simply nodded in her direction. But that wasn't enough for her. "Use your words, baby," were the only words that left her mouth, breathless.

A shiver ran down your spine as Alessia spoke, her breathless voice sending a wave of desire through you. You met her gaze, your own eyes filled with a mixture of arousal and eagerness.

"Yes," you managed to say, your own voice betraying your desperation. "Please, yes."

"Yes what my love? What do you want?"

As Alessia asked the question, her lips hovered just above your ear, her breath hot against your skin, her body still pressed against yours. You could feel her body heat, the way she trembled with her own desire.

"I want you," you said, your voice low and raspy. "I want you now."

Without saying a word, Alessia pulled you into her living room and guided you to the couch. Her hand remained linked with yours as she led you. The room was softly lit by a dim lamp, casting a warm, intimate glow. She gently pushed you down onto the plush cushions, straddling your lap as her gaze met yours. Her eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto you, her chest rising and falling with each heated breath.

"You're so gorgeous," she whispered, her fingertips tracing a path down your chest.

I'm too stunned by the fact that she's straddling my lap, so I just stare at her, my eyes filled with desire.

Alessia smiled at your reaction, enjoying the obvious effect she had on you. Her hips moved against yours, a slow and sensuous rhythm that drove you crazy. She brought her lips to your ear again, her voice a low murmur.

"I love seeing you like this," she said, her breath hot against your skin. "So flustered and undone already, and we've barely even started."

I gulped at her words, my throat tight with anticipation. "I need you so badly," I begged, desperate for her to touch me, to do whatever it took to relieve this overwhelming desire

Her own hunger and desire growing with every word. She leans closer, her lips grazing your earlobe, her voice a needy whisper.

"That's it," she murmurs, her hands roaming over your body. "Beg for me, baby. Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

"I want you to fuck me," I said, my voice betraying the shock I felt at my own words, yet driven by the undeniable need to finish what we'd started.

As the words left your mouth, a shiver ran through Alessia's body. She looked down at you, her eyes darkened with need.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she whispered, her hands sliding to the hem of your shirt. "I'm going to give you what you need, my love."

Alessia slowly pulled your shirt up and over your head, her fingers trailing along your bare skin. She took a moment to admire the sight of you beneath her, her eyes roving over your chest, taking in every inch of you.

She murmured, "God, you're so beautiful." Her hands roamed down your sides. "I can't get enough of you." I close my eyes and enjoy every second of her hands on my bare skin.

She leans down and kisses your collarbone, her lips moving lower, her tongue tracing a path along your skin.

She teases me by kissing my titts and putting her tongue around my nipple. I made a small noise when I felt her mouth on my breast. With her hand, she made sure to stimulate my other nipple. She knew exactly what she was doing and how much she turns me on.

My back involuntarily arching as her lips and tongue worked their magic.

"I love hearing you moan," she murmured. "It drives me crazy when you make those sounds. She made sure that everyone passing her apartment knew who is fucking you right now.

Alessia's hands move to your thigh as she begins to unbutton your jeans. her touch is slow and deliberate, a torturous tease that leaves you aching for more.

"I want to taste you," she says quietly, her voice full of hunger. She is slipping her finger into your pants as she notices how already wet you are. "That's all for me, sweetheart? I blushed at her comment, feeling embarrassed that she had aroused me so much before even touching me. "God, you're so hot."

You shivered as her fingers teased your entrance. She hesitated for a few seconds before inserting her finger. I grasped at the sudden contact between my folds, I love how her finger feels inside of me.

As you took her fingers into your mouth, Alessia's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She let out a ragged moan, the sight and feeling of you tasting her driving her wild.

As she leaned in to kiss you, her tongue slipped into your mouth, seeking out the taste of yourself on your lips. Alessia let out a low moan as she tasted you, hungry for more.

"You taste so sweet; I want you to come undone on my fingers."

Alessia's hand returned to your sensitive area, her fingers finding their way back. "You like that, baby?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "You want more?" I nodded at her. "Your words, baby."

"Yes. I want more. Please stretch me with your fingers Alessia" unable to focus on anything else than her touch on your skin.

"Mmm good girl," she said, her fingers sliding deeper into your folds. A moan escaped my lips. It feels so good to have her inside me.

Her fingers curled inside you, seeking out that sweet spot that would have you moaning. She added another figer to fully satisfy me after noticing my reaction.

"Oh my god, please, Alessia." She began pushing her fingers roughly inside me, instantly understanding what I wanted from her. My hands found her hair as I tried to pull her head to my breast. Her fingers moved harder and faster as she began to suck on my nipples. The cozy room was filled with the sounds of my low moans and her palm pushing against my wet, bare pussy.

She knows exactly how to make you feel good, her lips finding their way back to your neck as she speaks. "You're so close, aren't you, baby.""Please" was the only word that left my mouth. "Please what, darling?" "Please let me cum."Her eyes darkened with desire, clearly enjoying how desperate you were for release.

She knew you were close by the way your folds were clenching around her fingers. "That's it, baby. You're such a good girl. Come for  me.  That's everything you needed to come undone on her fingers. She felt so amazing inside of you. Her fingers continued her movements to help you ride out your orgasm. She watches your face as you finish, her eyes dark with passion. A satisfied smile spreads over her face as she pulls her fingers out. She lifts them to her mouth, tasting you once again.

"You're so damn sweet," she muttered, clearly enjoying your taste. "I could do that all night."

"Now it's my turn.". 

[n0vazsq]

Found the way | PA17 x Reader

pairing . . . soulmate!paul aron x soulmate!mixed!race!reader

summary . . . Meeting your soulmate after talking telepathically for years certainly was something.... especially when he's a race driver and you're an intern working in the same place

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none! just a note that i'm going to refer to paul by his name, but reader doesn't know what his name is until they met!! conversations in their mind are in italic!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . wow. this was something to write.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . For as long as you could remember, you and Paul had been connected. It wasn’t something you had asked for, but it felt like it was always meant to be. Every day, you heard his voice in your head, clear as day.

The first time it happened, you had been terrified. You were alone, walking home from school, and suddenly, you heard a voice in your mind.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You had frozen in place, looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken to you, but no one was there. It took weeks before you realized that the voice in your head wasn’t a hallucination or some kind of weird glitch in the world.

It was Paul.

He explained to you that he had the same ability, and he was just as confused as you were. The two of you quickly learned that you could only communicate telepathically, no spoken words, no physical contact, just thoughts exchanged in the quiet spaces of your minds.

And so, over time, you both built a connection. You got to know each other in the most intimate, invisible way. You shared everything. The good, the bad, the joys, and the fears, without the hidden stuff that often came with speaking out loud.

You’d both learned to help each other when things felt overwhelming, offering support when life was too hard to navigate alone. But there was always this unspoken rule; you couldn’t tell each other your names.

At first, it didn’t matter. You both laughed about it, making jokes and creating silly aliases. You had ended up calling him Blondie because of the way he described his hair; golden in every way, from the light shine to the warmth it seemed to radiate.

He’d called you Curls, a teasing nickname for your wild, curly hair. It became your thing.

He was Blondie, and you were Curls, and for some reason, it was perfect.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t both curious. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to meet him, see what he looked like, hold him close when he had a hard day. But there was always that one, simple rule; no names.

And yet, after years of talking like this, you both had grown closer than anyone else in your life. You had supported each other through heart ache, listened to each other’s frustrations, and celebrated each other’s victories. You couldn’t wait to finally meet in person.

"I’m counting down the days, Curls. I just know you’ll be even more beautiful than I imagined." Paul’s voice echoed in your mind one night, his thoughts filled with affection.

"I can’t wait either, Blondie. I swear, I’ve been dreaming about it." You closed your eyes, smiling, already imagining the moment when you could finally hold him, feel his warmth. "It’s all I think about."

The world outside of your telepathic connection seemed so small. Conversations with friends and family felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered was you and Blondie. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at you, what if he didn’t like you in person? What if it was awkward?

"Do you think it’ll be weird when we finally meet?" You asked, the uncertainty creeping into your thoughts.

"No." Paul’s response was immediate, confident. "I’ve been talking to you for years, Curls. It’s going to be perfect."

You had talked to him about your job internship, how you were working behind the scenes in the paddock for a Formula 1 team, assisting with everything from logistics to preparation, and experience to complement your course in motorsport management.

You’d mentioned how exciting, yet nerve wracking, it was to finally get the opportunity to be in such a fast paced environment, learning from professionals in the industry. You’d also shared how there was a possibility, just a small one, that you and he could meet face to face for the first time during the race weekend, though you hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so unexpectedly.

And now, here you were, standing in the bustling paddock of a Formula 1 race, running around trying to do your job done amidst all the excitement. You were barely keeping your focus, distracted by the knowledge that you were just a few meters away from meeting him, your soulmate, the person who had been in your head for years. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt as nervous as you did.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

You were walking with a team member down the crowded pit lane, carrying a stack of equipment for a quick setup. As you navigated the sea of people, your foot caught on the edge of a toolbox, sending you tumbling forward.

You braced for impact, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out, catching you in mid fall.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was go-"

Your heart skipped a beat as you collided with his chest, the impact leaving you breathless. You instinctively looked up into his eyes and froze.

There was something… something so strangely familiar about this person. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if you had always known this person, and the realization hit you like a wave.

This was him.

"Curls?" His voice was low, hesitant, but somehow it sounded exactly the same as it did in your mind. You felt a jolt of recognition.

"Blondie?" you replied, nearly breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d said it out loud or thought it, but the words came so naturally.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You-how-how are you here?" He looked around, clearly trying to piece together the situation.

You smiled, heart pounding in your chest. "The internship."

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say. The shock and joy of the moment hung between you like a heavy blanket, but the connection you felt in your chest was undeniable.

You had been waiting for this day for years, and now that it had finally arrived, you were left speechless.

He held you at arm's length, still unsure, his fingers lightly brushing your arms as though confirming you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. "I-I didn’t expect… This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. I thought we’d… I don’t know… meet some other way."

You laughed, a sound that felt more freeing than anything you had ever experienced. "I didn’t expect it either. But here we are."

"Yeah," he said, grinning now. "Here we are."

And just like that, you both stood there, in the midst of the busy paddock, overwhelmed by the realization that everything you had shared in your minds for years was now physical, real, and right in front of you.

"What's your name, then? Mine is Paul."

You told him your name, smiling when he repeated it, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue.

Paul’s gaze softened as he stared at you, the same intensity and adoration you had always felt from him radiating in his eyes. "I’ve waited for this moment for so long. It feels… unreal."

You reached for his hand, your heart fluttering as your fingers brushed his. The sensation was electric, like every piece of you had clicked into place. "Me too," you whispered. "I’ve always known it was you, but now I can see you, and it’s more than I ever imagined."

He smiled, a tender, almost shy expression that made your heart swell. "So, you’re actually here… and I’m not dreaming?"

"I’m here, Blondie, or Paul," you reassured him softly. "And I’m never going anywhere else."

And then, without thinking, you both moved closer. You didn’t need words to tell him how much this moment meant.

You simply leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like the peak of everything you had been waiting for. Soft at first, but as if everything else in the world had faded, you deepened it, feeling a connection so deep it was almost overwhelming.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Paul rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your hands tight. "I can’t believe it. You’re here. We’re here."

You smiled, the weight of the years of waiting slowly lifting off your shoulders. "We’re here," you agreed, "and I’ll never leave."

He kissed you again, this time more passionately, as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, you knew, more than ever, that no matter the distance, no matter the years, the connection you had was real.

You had finally found your way to each other.

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘Damian.’ You called over your shoulder, eyes firmly locked on the thing that currently held your undivided attention.

‘Yeah?’ You heard him call back from another room.

‘Why the fuck is there a cow in your kitchen?’ Damian’s brow was immediately raised upon hearing this. Cow? There’s no way Bat-Cow could’ve- Damian then closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths before joining you in the kitchen, where he could clearly see that the white and brown Bovine cow was indeed in the kitchen, just like you had said.

Now the question of how the cow had gotten into the manor -undetected no less- was a mystery entirely because surly someone would’ve noticed a 610kg, white and brown cow mindlessly clopping down the corridor from rooms away. But none of that mattered anymore as it was irrelevant to the current situation you and Damian both found yourselves in.

‘This day was bound to happen sooner or later, y/n this is Bat-Cow, the family…well cow.’ Damian said as though it were nothing new but for you, everything was made even more confusing. ‘And why do you have a pet cow? is Wayne Enterprises expanding into the farming business is it?’ You asked and Damian felt a headache about to come on.

‘Tt. No, me and father saved Bat-Cow from going to a slaughterhouse and have kept them ever since.’ He explained as he then moved past you to gently pet the cow on the muzzle, smiling softly when Bat-Cow made a noise of content. ‘Besides, this is nothing in comparison to Goliath.’

You made a face at this. ‘I’m sorry but Goliath who?’ You asked and Damian only continued to amuse himself as he petted Bat-Cow. ‘Exactly.’ He couldn’t wait to see your reaction firsthand.

Bruce tends to overwork himself to death most of the time, much to yours and Alfred’s disappointment.

You understood why he does what he does but did he necessarily have to neglect his own health and well-being to do so?

Gotham was a piece of work that is always under continuous construction, never in the hopes of being made better, but instead to be pushed to the side and left to slowly corrode and rot. Gotham was an ever developing plot hole that was bound to become even more than an issue then first assumed.

Gotham wasn’t a place worth saving for it always found a way to relapse back into old harmful habits, much so to the point where it’s own civilians didn’t care whether the city would survive another day, with all the chaos and destruction that seemed to be happening on the daily.

In Gotham it was easy as piss for one to lose all sense of empathy, humility and humanity.

Expect for one man. Bruce Wayne aka Batman. A shining beacon of hope for the future of Gotham in your eyes, a person who looked at the piss, shit and grime that flooded the streets and thought; I could help make this a better place, not by much, but just enough so that the civilians could rest easy knowing they’re looked out for. No matter if I get beaten down again and again, I’ll always get back up because if I don’t, then who will if not me? And you loved him for that and loved even more when he first brought Dick home, followed shortly by Jason, Tim and Damian with the inclusions of Stephenie, Cassandra and Duke respectively.

So nowadays whenever you wanted Bruce to rest, you’d call upon the help of the kids -now grown ass adults with lives of their own- and Alfred to help you drag Bruce away from the screens of the bat-computer.

‘You could’ve just asked nicely.’ Bruce said as he walked with the likes of you, Tim, Dick, Jason and Barbra out of the bat cave after successfully getting Bruce to join you and the remainder of the family- whom were waiting for you all in the dinner room- for dinner that Alfred made.

‘We did, multiple times.’ Jason replied.

‘Well if you consider pulling back his chair from under him asking then yes, yes we did.’ Tim then said as Dick butted himself in the conversation. ‘I mean, it did work in our favour in getting the old man out of the bat cave.’ Murmurs of agreement followed as you leaned against Bruce, staring at your gaggle of kids with nostalgia, chuckling.

‘What’re you laughing to yourself about?’ Bruce asks and you shrug.

‘Nothing, it’s just nice to see that your soft spot for them hasn’t changed after all this time.’ You replied, holding onto his arm as he pressed a small kiss to your head and hums in agreement.

‘They happen to take after you, and you’re hard to say no to in any capacity.’ Bruce answers and you couldn’t help but squint your eyes at him. ‘Liar.’ You tell him with a grin. ‘You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.’

Bruce chuckles and kisses your cheek. ‘Okay, maybe you’re right about one thing.’ He concedes and allows you to drag him down the hallway, happy to be able to see his family all in one place.

Jason who might as well make his apartment a makeshift animal shelter because of how many strays he brings in from off of the street and dangerous living situations.

The pattern in this being that the strays he brings in were dogs that were heavily stereotyped as dangerous and aggressive, hurt, or missing a limb in some capacity. So there would be days where you’d come home to find Jason bathing an XL bully and a Pit bull, whom had some scarring left from when they were used as an illegal fighting dog, and you wouldn’t even bat an eye as you discarded your coat and went to help Jason in drying them off.

‘Where’d you find this one then Jason?’ You asked as you ran a hand through the Pit bulls short fur as it fell asleep on his lap while the XL bully fell asleep in yours.

‘In an alleyway where I was just about finishing up my patrol, tucked away in a darkened corner in a rotting cardboard box where I could heard them whimpering as clear as day.’ He responded. You could hear the anger in his voice towards the mistreatment of the poor dogs and reached over to hold his hand, stroking the back of it with your thumb.

‘You saved them Jason. You’ve given them much more than what their previous owner did tenfold.’ You reassured him, letting him know that the good he’s done will stick with the dogs for a long, long time. ‘Are you planning to give them to Damian to look after before finding them a good home?’ You then asked, having dawn to terms a long time ago that you nor Jason would have the time to properly take care of them yourselves, no matter how much you wanted to but you knew in this instance you couldn’t be selfish.

‘I would but Damian already has his hands full with the Doberman and Staffy we found last time,’ Jason sifted in his seat to look at you, ‘apparently Titus, Alfred and Ace have grown attached to them and refuse to the idea of them leaving. So Bruce is in the process of legally having the dogs be put under his care.’

You visibly perk up as you cuddled the XL bully to your chest. ‘Does that mean?’ Jason couldn’t help but laugh at your inherent cuteness as he pecked your lips. ‘Yes, we get to shelter them a little while longer chipmunk.’ He murmurs against your lips and you couldn’t help but steal a kiss from his lips out of happiness.

‘Have I told you how much I love you lately?’ You asked.

Jason hums. ‘You have but once more couldn’t hurt now would it?’ He teases.

Not even a week later and you and Jason decided to keep Riley the XL bully and Roy the Pit bull and you both love them dearly.

[claramelooo]

Hey, my lovers! 12k words today, huh? You're welcome! Hahaha enjoy!

Obs: Christmas wishes were given in this chapter!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, angst

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Wanda pressures you until you tell what you tried so hard to hide

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson | Part 7 - Dependece

VELVET CHAINS

Passion

The sun was warm but not scorching, and the sound of children's laughter echoed through the park as Billy and Tommy ran circles around a tall tree, each holding a plastic stick like a sword. They were so full of energy it was hard to keep up, but the glow on their faces made everything worthwhile.

You were sitting on a checkered blanket beside Wanda, your bare feet touching the soft grass. She had insisted on bringing a basket filled with fruits, sandwiches, and a homemade pie that promised to be delicious. Next to you, she seemed completely at ease, a rare, serene smile lighting up her face as she watched the boys play.

"I should’ve brought a shield to defend the world from those two," you joked, laughing as Billy tried to attack Tommy with a dramatic pose.

"Don’t worry," Wanda replied, her eyes sparkling. "They only attack those who deserve it."

You laughed, but your laughter was cut short by the touch of her hand on yours. It was a simple gesture, as if she wanted to catch your attention while pointing out something funny about the boys. But there was something about that touch—in the way her fingers intertwined with yours, firm yet gentle. The warmth traveled up your arm like an electric current, and suddenly the world around you seemed blurred, as if only she mattered.

You glanced down at your joined hands and then up at her face. Wanda wasn’t looking at you; she was smiling at the boys as though holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world. But to you, it wasn’t natural. It was overwhelming.

Your heart started to race, and you felt panic rising in your chest. Was this what it felt like to be in love? It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. You knew how complicated things were, knew there wasn’t room in her life for you beyond the place you already occupied. But in that moment, as you watched the sunlight dance in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand on yours, you had to admit to yourself: you were falling.

Wanda turned to you, her green eyes meeting yours, and it was as if she could see straight into you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

"Yeah," you replied too quickly, diverting your gaze to the picnic basket. "I just... there’s so much food, huh? I’m not sure we’ll manage to eat it all."

She chuckled softly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "I brought it because I know my little monsters. They’ll finish all of it before we get home."

You tried to laugh along, but the truth was, without her hand in yours, the world suddenly felt less bright.

As Billy and Tommy ran back for water, laughing and arguing about who had won the "battle," you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment and swore to keep it all a secret. From yourself.

You’d always thought you knew what passion was. The butterflies in your stomach when Kate laughed that carefree way. The heat that crept up your cheeks when Sharon brushed her fingers along your arm while talking. You’d thought those feelings were intense, overwhelming. That they were everything someone could want.

But now, with Wanda, all of that felt like a lie.

With Kate, there was a lightness, almost a game. She was charming, fun, but always kept a certain distance. With Sharon, it was different, closer, but even in the most intimate moments, there was a void you could never explain.

Wanda, however... Wanda was something else entirely. She was a storm.

It was as though, by her side, the entire world shrank, becoming small and irrelevant. When she looked at you with those deep green eyes, it was like all the air was sucked from the room, leaving you vulnerable, exposed, unable to think of anything but her.

You tried convincing yourself it was just another crush, like the others. Told yourself it would pass. That it was just her way, the intensity with which she lived, the way she commanded every space she occupied.

But every time she touched your hand, even casually, you knew you were lying to yourself. Her touch left a mark, a warmth no one else had ever ignited in you.

Kate and Sharon were soft breezes, but Wanda was a wildfire. One that consumed everything, leaving you breathless and trapped, and strangely, you didn’t want to escape.

It was more than physical attraction, more than anything you’d ever experienced. It was as if every fiber of your being cried out for her, as if your body and soul knew something your mind desperately tried to deny.

And that was what scared you.

With Kate, with Sharon, you had control. You could measure your feelings, fit them into neat, safe little boxes. But with Wanda, there was no control. No logic. There was only an all-consuming desire, a need that left you at her mercy, even when she had no idea of the chaos she caused within you.

You hated it. Hated the vulnerability, the intensity, the way she made you feel small and infinite all at once. But most of all, you hated that none of your previous loves came close to what you felt for Wanda.

Kate was comfort. Sharon, security. But Wanda? Wanda was the abyss.

And you were falling.

Until, after a few days, everything began to crumble.

Wanda watched you from across the room, her gaze fixed on you as you flipped through a book without actually paying attention to its content. The air was thick with a tension she couldn’t quite describe. Over the past few days, everything seemed wrong. Your fingers no longer intertwined with hers like before, and your laughter, which used to fill the house with life, now sounded restrained, almost mechanical.

It was subtle, but Wanda was a woman who noticed details. You avoided her eyes. Your hands fidgeted whenever she was near. When she tried to touch your face or hold your hand, you pulled away—just a small, almost imperceptible step. But to her, every tiny retreat was a blow that resonated deeply.

At first, she tried to rationalize it. "Maybe it's just stress." "She's been studying so much." "She's tired." But those excuses weren’t enough to silence the thoughts growing like weeds, poisoning her mind.

What if you were trying to leave her?

The thought hit her like lightning. The logic seemed absurd, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. You were distancing yourself to create emotional space. Maybe you’d realized how much she depended on you. Or worse: maybe you’d fallen in love with someone else.

Yelena?

Jealousy and paranoia began to taint every thought.

While you read in the living room, Wanda stood in the kitchen, washing a dish that had already been clean for at least two minutes. Her movements were methodical, but her mind was a storm. She could picture you pulling away, coming up with an excuse, inventing a reason to leave early. In her imagination, you were planning a way to disappear.

She clenched her eyes shut, the water running over the forgotten dish in her hands. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Y/n?” Her voice suddenly rang out in the room, sharp and weighted, making you look up from the book, startled.

“Yes?” You replied hesitantly.

Wanda dried her hands slowly on the dish towel, her movements controlled, almost rehearsed. But her gaze was an abyss of conflicting emotions.

“Why have you been avoiding looking at me?”

Your heart raced. It was impossible to lie to her, but the truth felt too heavy to lay between you both at that moment.

“I’m not…” you began, but stopped when you saw the intense gleam in her eyes.

“You are,” Wanda interrupted, walking slowly toward you. “You barely talk to me. You barely touch me. You used to look for my eyes in every room, and now you can’t even meet my gaze.”

“I just... I’ve got a lot on my mind. Studying for Yale has been taking up so much of my time.” Your voice wavered, and that only made Wanda’s suspicion grow.

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she approached, her gaze so intense it made it hard to breathe. There was something about her posture—a mix of forced calm and simmering fervor—that set off every alarm in your body. She stopped in front of you, her presence radiating warmth and an energy that seemed to dominate any room she entered.

“I can fix that,” she said softly, her voice dripping with a cruel kind of sweetness, as though she were speaking to a child who didn’t know what was best for themselves.

“What...?” you asked, trying to sound steady, but your voice came out hesitant, almost a whisper.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes analyzing every detail of your face as if trying to uncover the secrets you so desperately tried to hide.

“You think I don’t notice?” Her voice was quieter now but heavy with emotion. “You’re building distance. It’s not just Yale. It’s not just stress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of the book in your lap.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/n,” she countered, the intensity in her voice making you flinch. She leaned down, her hands resting on the sides of the chair, caging you in place. “I can feel it when you’re pulling away. I can feel it when I’m losing you.”

Your heart raced. Losing you? That wasn’t how you saw it. You were trying to regain control over yourself, to put a barrier between the overwhelming love you felt for Wanda and the life you knew you needed to pursue. But she saw it as abandonment, as rejection.

“Wanda, I...” you started, but your voice faltered when her eyes burned even deeper into yours.

“You don’t need to go to Yale,” she said suddenly, her voice calm in a way that felt almost like a trap.

The statement hit you like a slap. “What?”

“Yale is a distraction. An excuse to pull away from me,” she continued, her hand sliding to your chin, holding it gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “You don’t need it. Everything you need is right here.”

“It’s not that simple, Wanda,” you replied, your voice almost a sob.

“Why not?” She arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between frustration and hurt. “Are you trying to run away from me? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?”

“That’s not it!” you protested, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Then what is it? Tell me,” she insisted, her voice growing more desperate, even though her face still held the mask of control she fought so hard to maintain.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. How could you explain to her that the problem wasn’t her, but the overwhelming love you felt? That you needed distance because if you stayed, you’d end up losing yourself completely in Wanda, sacrificing everything you dreamed of just to be consumed by her?

“I... I need something more than this,” you finally murmured, not brave enough to tell her the full truth.

“Something more than this?” she repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. “I am something more than this! What we have is more than enough. You know that.”

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and your heart broke as you saw the conflict in her eyes—the fear of losing you and the need to hold on to you.

“Please, Wanda,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face.

But she didn’t seem willing to relent. “If Yale means losing you, then you’re staying.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on you like a storm.

Once again, you sighed, exhausted—this entire argument was overstimulating your mind.

“Wanda, it’s not like that,” you began in a softer, wearier tone. “I can promise you, I don’t want to be away from you.” You took a chance, holding her hands in a gesture of comfort.

“Did I do something?” Wanda’s voice was firm, almost cold—but there was a trace of fear in her tone.

“No!” you exclaimed, though deep down, you knew she had—yet falling for Wanda had always felt inevitable. “You’ve done nothing but be kind and an amazing mommy.” You caught a glimmer in Wanda’s tearful eyes, as if that was all she needed to hear. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about it right now.” You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Even though you hadn’t said everything, it felt like enough—and it was true.

“Are you sure… you’re not planning to leave?” The older woman’s voice wavered, the final words choking slightly.

Your eyes widened, startled by the intensity of the question. “Leave? Wanda, what are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know?” Her voice grew louder, though still edged with danger. “You think I can’t tell when someone is building walls? I’ve seen it before. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? Finding a way to leave me.”

“That’s not true!” You stood up, feeling desperation surge within you.

“Then look at me,” Wanda demanded, her voice thick with pain.

You tried, but the weight of her gaze—so full of hurt, fear, and something deeper you couldn’t identify—was too much. Your eyes darted away, and that was all Wanda needed.

She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as though shielding herself. “You can’t even look at me…”

“Wanda, please…”

“No!” Her anger finally erupted, though tears filled her eyes. “You’re mine! You know that! And I won’t let you run away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with pain and possessiveness. Abruptly, she turned and left the room, the sound of the door slamming behind her thunderous against your heart.

Wanda stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Anger simmered beneath her skin, mixing with a pain so profound it felt suffocating. Her mind replayed the words spoken—and unspoken. The hesitation in your voice, the way you avoided her gaze, ate away at the control she fought so hard to maintain.

She’s leaving me… She’s pulling away… I can’t lose her.

It was then Vision entered, his usual serene expression almost irritatingly calm. He looked at her with concern, clearly sensing the charged tension in the air.

“Wanda,” he began gently. “Is something wrong? You seem… troubled.”

She stepped back, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s none of your business.”

Vision remained unfazed. He moved closer, his gaze analytical yet compassionate, trying to bridge the distance she was desperately trying to create.“Wanda, we’re partners. You can tell me what’s going on.”

“Partners?” She let out a bitter laugh, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Do you even understand what that means?”

Vision frowned, confusion evident on his face. He reached out to touch her, but Wanda recoiled, her gaze hardening.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Wanda,” he tried again, stepping closer, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Her voice echoed through the room, the air around her crackling with energy.

Vision hesitated for a moment but, in a move that seemed almost rehearsed, leaned in as if to kiss her. It was a gentle, almost hesitant motion, but he didn’t anticipate what happened next.

Before his lips could even come close, Wanda shoved him with force, using far more energy than necessary. Vision stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he steadied himself.

“You think a kiss is going to fix this?” Her voice was sharp, laced with contempt and fury. “You’re not what I want, Vision. You never were.”

He stood in silence, absorbing her words. But what hurt most wasn’t the content—it was the raw hatred in her eyes.

“You’re angry,” Vision finally said, his voice still controlled. “But rejecting help won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t need your help,” Wanda spat back, her tone icy. “I don’t want your touch. So do me a favor and leave.”

Vision hesitated, but the look in her eyes—a mix of rage and something far darker—compelled him to comply. He stepped back, nodded slowly, and left the room without another word, leaving Wanda alone with her fury, her anguish, and the obsessive whispers that filled her mind.

As soon as he was gone, she collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. The control she prided herself on was slipping through her fingers. But the only thing that mattered was you.

And if there was one thing Wanda Maximoff knew, it was that she would do anything to keep you by her side.

[...]

The library was as quiet as ever, the occasional sound of pages turning and muffled footsteps creating an almost meditative atmosphere. You were sitting at one of the tables near the classic literature section, your nervous fingers holding a book that, ironically, you weren’t managing to read. Your gaze stubbornly drifted to the woman on the other side of the room.

Wanda.

She looked completely at ease, browsing the shelves as if she owned the place. Her fingers glided over the spines of the books, and you couldn’t help but watch the grace in her every movement. It was intimidating how she seemed so natural, so in control, while you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions you could barely comprehend.

She noticed. Of course, she did.

When her green eyes met yours, you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the words you couldn’t even see. Your heart was racing, and a troublesome warmth crept up your face.

It didn’t take long before you heard her footsteps approaching. Your body tensed, every fiber of your being aware of her presence before Wanda pulled out the chair beside you and sat with that calmness that made her even more overwhelming.

"What are you reading? " Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but carried a playful tone that made you swallow hard.

"Oh…" you began, but the word died in your throat when you realized you had no idea what was in the book before you. "Just… something interesting."

Wanda arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer to you. Her scent, a mix of jasmine and something uniquely Wanda, invaded your senses.

"Something interesting, huh?" She repeated, her voice caressing each word like an invitation. "You seem distracted, little one."

You tightened your grip on the book, trying to maintain composure, but it was useless.

"I… I’m not distracted " you lied, your voice weaker than you intended.

Wanda chuckled, a low, delightful sound that made your stomach tighten.

"Then why are your cheeks so red?"

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at her. That was a mistake. Wanda’s gaze was intense, full of something that made you feel small and exposed.

"They’re not" you tried to deny, but the frailty in your voice betrayed you.

She tilted her head, her eyes studying your face with an attention that made you shiver.

"You’re a terrible liar, you know that? "she said, with a smile that was both a tease and a promise.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to focus on the book, but Wanda wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours as she slid the book away from you.

"Look at me." she ordered, her voice now firmer but still laced with a sweetness that was almost cruel.

You hesitated, but her magnetism was inescapable. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

"Why are you so nervous?" Wanda asked, her hand now resting over yours.

You tried to answer, but your throat was dry. All you could do was shake your head.

"Oh, little one… " she whispered, leaning even closer, so close her lips were mere inches from yours. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."

But it wasn’t fear. It was something far more intense, more overwhelming.

And as if she knew exactly what you were feeling, Wanda smiled, a smile that completely disarmed you.

"Tell me what you want, darling," she murmured, her eyes locked onto yours.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill—not from sadness, but from pure desire, from longing.

"I… I don’t know " you finally whispered, feeling a weakness take over you.

Wanda chuckled again, but this time there was something darker in the sound.

"Don’t worry, little one. I know exactly what you need."

Wanda leaned in slowly, with the composure of someone who knew the impact of every movement. Her dark eyes were fixed on you, studying every nuance of your face, savoring the moment before the inevitable.

She lifted a hand, her fingers sliding along your face, tracing the curve of your jaw down to your chin. Her touch was both delicate and firm, sending shivers through your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper, full of promises that made the air between you feel heavy.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Unable to form words, you simply nodded, letting her see in your expression just how much you were hers.

Wanda’s smile widened, but there was an intensity in her eyes that almost took your breath away. She tilted her head, and you felt the heat of her breath brushing your lips.

"Good girl," she murmured, her words like an electric shock coursing through your body.

And then, she kissed you.

It was fire. The touch of Wanda’s lips on yours was burning, hungry, as if she were trying to convey everything she felt in a single gesture. There was no hesitation, only pure, raw desire.

Her fingers slid to the base of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened—more intense, more demanding. You clung to her shoulders, incapable of doing anything but matching her fervor, lost in the passion Wanda so effortlessly awakened in you.

When she finally pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, Wanda’s eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen before.

"That’s what you needed, isn’t it?" she asked, a smug smile playing on her lips as her thumb gently traced your lower lip. "To be taken firmly by mommy."

You didn’t respond, because the truth was clear. Wanda knew exactly what you needed, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you again.

Unexpectedly, the woman turns her body abruptly, leaving you on your back—and making you stick your ass out for her.

"You know, it's funny how you always wear that kind of skirt when you're here. Is this a sign for me to fuck you all over right here?" Wanda pulls your hair, making you squeak.

She pushes your head against the shelves, making you grimace in pain. She caresses the length of your skirt, reaching your precious spot.

" You're going to be quiet for me. If you moan, I'll stop." Her fingers finger your pussy covered by your panties.

"Mommy…" you whispered in a moan.

"Come on, little girl. Tell me what you're hiding so much…" she tried to manipulate you at all costs to find out what secrets you were hiding.

She fingered you—slowly. — it was almost cruel, painful. She squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you sink your teeth into her hand to stifle a scream.

The more Wanda's fingers moved in circles, the more your body gave in, involuntarily bucking toward her. Your surrender was total, almost like a primal instinct that dominated you completely, and Wanda seemed to absorb every second of it with almost cruel pleasure.

"Who owns you? Who do you belong to?" Her voice was a deep whisper, hot as an ember that set your self-control ablaze.

"It's y-you, mommy… it's you!" you managed to stammer, your voice trembling and full of submission.

A dangerous glint crossed Wanda's eyes, and the smile that appeared on her lips was at once one of approval and absolute dominance. Her fingers pulled your hair more firmly, tilting your head back, and you felt her breath brush against your sensitive skin.

"Exactly, little girl. Exactly…" she murmured, her voice so low that it seemed to slip straight into the deepest recesses of your mind. "A pet shouldn’t hide anything from its owner, should it?"

She slid her tongue along the arch of your ear, each movement slow and calculated, followed by delicate bites that made your body tremble.

You shook your head quickly, the lump in your throat growing as she took control of every part of you.

“Then tell me… tell me!” Her order came like a whip, her voice low and sharp, breaking down any resistance you might have had.

Here, in that sacred space, where knowledge and calm were the norm, this was an act of pure desecration. A conscious and deliberate sin, and yet the sense of danger made it all the more intoxicating.

Your heart was beating wildly, the sound echoing in your ears as tears welled up, blurring your vision. You weren't sure if it was because of the adrenaline running through your veins or the desperate need to release all the feelings you had been repressing.

“I-I don’t… I can’t!” You screamed, too loud, the confession filled with dread and desire.

And then, Wanda stopped.

The emptiness left by her touch was as painful as it was unexpected, but nothing was worse than the disapproving look she gave you. Her dark green eyes pierced you like a blade, and the frustrated moan that escaped your throat along with a tear.

“Bad girls don’t cum, Y/n.” Did she say it, staring at you with some kind of disappointment?

Her words echoed in your mind, as vivid as the sound of her voice on any given day. Bad girls don’t cum.It was such a simple phrase, but it was filled with something that ate away at you. The clear limit, the line you couldn’t cross.

And yet, you wanted more.

You wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her how every moment with her made you feel alive and at the same time destroyed. You wanted to tell her that you loved the way she frowned when she was focused, or the way her voice changed when she became softer, more tender.

But how could you?

How could you look her in the eyes and tell her that you loved her when you knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t, love you back?

Wanda was an entire universe, but she wasn’t yours. She would never be.

You pressed your hands against your chest, as if you could hold the broken pieces of your heart together. But even as you did, the tears fell, hot and relentless.

You cried for her. For yourself.

For everything that could be, but would never be.

And as the pain grew, a part of you knew that you would continue to love Wanda in silence, because silence was all you had.

And loving in silence, though crushing, was still better than not loving her at all.

[...]

Hours later, after dinner and with Vision out of town for yet another meeting—you muster up enough courage to walk, albeit slowly, toward Wanda's room.

Sighing and gathering just a bit more bravery, you stepped inside. No knocking, no asking for permission. Perhaps this would land you in trouble with the disciplinarian Wanda, but all you found was a woman who looked worn and exhausted.

The soft glow of the lamp in Wanda’s room barely illuminated her figure, seated at the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look like the strong, dominant woman you knew. Not in that moment.

Your heart clenched at the sight of her like this. It felt wrong, out of place from everything you associated with Wanda. Her eyes were fixed on something invisible in front of her, lost in thoughts you knew were about you.

And then you realized, this distance you’d imposed wasn’t just hurting you—it was hurting Wanda too. She seemed so lifeless, as if something had drained her completely.

She heard your footsteps but didn’t lift her head immediately.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and low, lacking the usual authority that bent your will to hers.

“And you?” Your voice came out hesitant but filled with genuine concern.

She finally raised her eyes, and what you saw nearly made you step back. There was pain there, raw and exposed, a pain she rarely allowed anyone to see.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “Not when I feel like I’m losing you.”

Her words hung in the room like a heavy weight, each syllable laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected.

You took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough to feel her warmth, to hear the faint, uneven sound of her breathing.

“Wanda…” you began, but you didn’t know what to say. There were no words to mend the crack that was forming between the two of you.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady herself, but when she opened them again, there was a sheen of tears she refused to let fall.

“I care more than I should,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “And that’s why it hurts so much to feel you pulling away. It’s like… like you’re ripping a part of me out.”

Your chest ached at her words. You knew she was hurting, but seeing the depth of her suffering was like taking a blow straight to the heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely steady.

“But you are,” she replied, firm but without anger. Just sadness. “Every step you take away from me… it’s like a knife I put in my own chest.”

You hesitated but finally lifted a hand to touch her face, your fingers trembling slightly as they met the warmth of her skin. Wanda closed her eyes at your touch, leaning into it involuntarily, as though seeking solace.

“I care too,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “More than I should. And that’s why this is so hard. I… I don’t know how to balance this.”

Wanda opened her eyes, and the intensity in her gaze made you shiver.

“Then don’t balance it,” she whispered, her fingers now holding your hand against her cheek. “Choose. Choose us. Choose to stay.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to fall silently down your cheeks. Part of you wanted to do just that. To throw everything aside and simply lose yourself in her arms. But another part, the part with dreams and ambitions, knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I want to,” you admitted. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing myself, scared of losing everything I’ve dreamed for myself.”

Wanda bit her lip, her eyes burning with emotion.

“And I’m scared of losing you,” she replied, her voice faltering for the first time.

The room fell into silence, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that always seemed to elude you when you were near Wanda. The silence in the room was palpable, and her nearness made everything feel even more intense. Your fingers were still intertwined, the warmth of her skin anchoring you but also leaving you completely exposed.

“Wanda,” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned her face toward you, her eyes locking with yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Concern? Curiosity? Hope?

“I…” Your throat felt tight, but you knew you had to say it. There was no running anymore, not when the weight of this truth was consuming you from the inside out. “I am completely and utterly in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The words left you like a sigh, heavy with months—perhaps years—of repressed emotion. The moment they left your lips, the world seemed to freeze.

Wanda’s face remained still for a moment, her eyes wide as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Her fingers reflexively tightened around yours, but then she pulled away, as though the warmth of your touch was too much to bear.

“Y/n…” she began, her voice hoarse, low, but brimming with emotion.

You watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the storm inside her. She stood up, putting a bit of space between you, her arms crossing in a defensive posture, but her gaze never wavered from you.

“Do you… have any idea what you just said?” Her voice was hesitant, almost a whisper, but there was something in it that begged for confirmation.

You swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look away.

“I know what I’m saying. I tried to fight it, Wanda, but I can’t anymore. I love you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, her lips slightly parted as though she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she let out a laugh—a low, disbelieving sound, devoid of any joy.

“My God…” She ran her hands over her face, as though trying to erase the confession, but you caught the glimmer in her eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness.

“You know this is…” Wanda began, but the sentence died on her lips, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though all the strength she usually carried had drained away. When she lifted her gaze to meet yours again, there was something crushing in her expression: a mixture of restrained desire, guilt, and a pain that mirrored your own.

“I know…” you responded in a near whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Tears began to streak down your face, each one carrying the weight of everything you’d never had the courage to say before. And even now, you hated yourself for being unable to control what you felt.

Wanda exhaled, the sound light yet devastating. She hesitated for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was soft, as if every word was a confession she had never intended to make.

“I can’t give you what you want, Dekta,” she whispered, her tone filled with something closer to regret than denial. “But maybe… maybe I can give you what you need… because I always know what you need.”

The use of the nickname cut through you like a sharp blade. It was a reminder of the intimacy you shared, the trust and affection you cherished so deeply, but now it only made the moment more painful.

Her eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and inescapable, as though she was trying to communicate something words could never convey. The space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving, until your faces were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick, suffocating, as if the air around you was charged with electricity. Wanda’s heartbeat was so loud you could almost hear it, and your own chest felt like it was about to explode.

“Wanda…” you murmured, but the word came out broken, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether it was a warning or a plea.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, almost to herself, but she didn’t pull away. Her breathing was unsteady, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “But you make me lose control, Dekta.”

You didn’t know who made the final move—if it was you, if it was her, or if it was some cruel twist of fate conspiring against you both. But suddenly, the space between you disappeared, and Wanda’s lips brushed yours in a feather-light, hesitant touch, laden with doubt and desire.

It lasted only a second before she abruptly pulled away, as if she’d been burned.

“This… can’t happen,” she said, breathless, more to herself than to you. “You need to understand that.”

“And why can’t it?” you asked, your voice trembling but filled with growing frustration. “Wanda, I can’t hide what I feel anymore. And you know you feel something too. Don’t try to deny it.”

She ran her hands over her face, clearly struggling against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“I can’t deny it,” she finally admitted, her voice low and barely audible. “But admitting it doesn’t change anything. I have a life, a family. And you… you have a bright future ahead of you, Dekta. A future that shouldn’t be jeopardized by something as… complicated as this.”

“This?” you echoed, the hurt evident in your voice. “Is that what you call us?”

Wanda closed her eyes, as if shielding herself from the intensity of the moment.

“I don’t know what to call this,” she replied, finally opening her eyes, now glistening with unshed tears. “But I know I can’t be selfish enough to ruin you.”

For the first time, you saw Wanda completely vulnerable—the strong, unshakable woman you had always known seemed on the verge of crumbling.

Suddenly, you felt like you were losing Wanda, and the thought terrified you. It made your body tremble with fear, your mind shutting down all rational thought.

“Do you like it that much?” you broke the silence, turning to face Wanda with eyes shining with curiosity.

“Like what?” Wanda asked, her voice coming out softer than usual.

“Being my mommy,” you asked, your gaze intense enough to make Wanda shudder.

She tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t hide the flush rising up her neck.

“That’s… it’s… I… It’s complicated,” she began, but you just laughed—the Wanda Maximoff stammering in front of you, while your fingers slid lightly down her arm. “It’s not something I ever expected to enjoy.”

You leaned in closer. There was something different now. Your eyes carried a newfound intensity, and you acted as though you were the one in control. Your warm breath neared her, sending shivers down her spine.

“But you do like it, don’t you?” you whispered against her lips. Your tone sounded innocent, but Wanda knew how much of a teasing little brat you could be.

You moved even closer, your hands gently touching her flushed cheeks. “Your face is so warm.” Your fingers slid to her nape, and Wanda’s body visibly reacted to your touch. “Are you running a fever, Mommy?” Your voice carried a soft, needy whine, and Wanda felt herself clench involuntarily.

Wanda closed her eyes, her body acutely aware of the heat radiating from yours so close to her own. And in that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as in control as she liked to believe.

Your eyes burned with a different kind of fire, reflecting the fevered warmth of Wanda’s skin.

“Ah…” Wanda let out a shaky whisper. She was affected — by you, your enigmatic eyes, and your captivating personality. And yet, you somehow gave her the sensation of control she so deeply cherished.“I like it more than I should.” She confessed.

Your proximity excited her, made her speak and act in ways she never imagined she would. You made her sin.

The shift in the room was undeniable. The weight of anguish had been replaced by a dark and dangerously palpable sexual tension.

“You like to play with mommy, don’t you?” Wanda asked, raising her voice.

Wanda slid her hands to your waist, her touch firm but full of affection that seemed to contrast with the fire in her eyes.

“You test me on purpose, and that’s okay, that’s fun.” She whispered, her voice deep and full of control. “But you must remember who’s in charge, Dorogaya.”

Before you could respond, Wanda kissed you fiercely with an urgent plea she’d never felt before. Your innocent teasing drove her crazy. Crazy to make you submit, to discipline you.

Wanda ran her nose along the length of your neck and inhaled the scent there—making you gasp.

“Hmm… are you so receptive, eager to please me?” Like a feline, she purred in your ear.

Wanda lowered one of her hands to touch your sex, and soon noticed the absence of panties.

“My naughty girl… You look so beautiful like this, all ready for me.” She mistreats your hardened nipples with her fingers. “Is it because you want this as much as I do, kitten?”

You let out a shaky, anxious sigh. “Wands…” Wrong!

The woman slaps you hard on your left cheek, making you dizzy.

“That’s not my name!” She growls, squeezing your neck and rubbing your pussy against her thigh.

“Sorry, Mommy…” You say, hearing Wanda moan in approval.

“Good girl.” She strokes your strands superficially. “You learn quickly, don’t you, Y/n?” Wanda’s hand runs over your reddened cheek, almost tenderly.

“Please!” You moan, rocking your hips toward the woman. It doesn’t matter how much you tried to be a brat. Behind four walls, you were nothing more than a dumb little whore for Wanda to use as she pleases.

“Oh. So my little one wants to play rough, huh?” You nod desperately. “Beg for Mommy’s touch! Beg and maybe I’ll give you what you want…”

Wanda’s voice comes out muffled, the woman slides her tongue between the valley of your breasts.

“Please, Mommy!” You hear the woman laugh sadistically, as she watches your weak figure swaying her hips.

“Hmm, sweet words…” Wanda’s voice drips with lust and you, entangled in the atmosphere, steal her lips. The contact is violent.

You bite the woman’s lower lip who groans at the sharp pain.

“Mine…” she murmurs in a deep voice of excitement. “You’re mine. and no matter how much time passes, that will never change…” Wanda’s palms grab your soft breasts, massaging them.

She pinches your nipples precisely, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. She leaned in even closer, her hot breath caressing your ear, and let out a command laden with intent: “And don’t you dare come until I tell you to, or I’ll make you regret begging for my touch.”

Wanda smiled with sadistic glee as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. Your body, so sweet and treacherous, gave away every hidden desire even as you tried to resist, your attempts so weak they were almost adorable.

A wicked smile curved her lips as Wanda leaned in, letting her own cool breath caress your ear.

“See, pet?” She whispered, purring in satisfaction. “Your little clit is so sensitive, so eager for attention… And who else could give it that but me?”

Wanda’s fingers danced over that little throbbing spot, her touch light as a feather. The woman watched the pleasure rip through your body like an electric shock, making you shudder in my hands.

"And it’s all mine to play with now…” Wanda murmured, her voice low and thick with possession. Each word was a soft growl, a threat wrapped in sensual promise.

The older woman began to circle your clit with cruel precision, unlike earlier—she applied just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge of oblivion—going and going and going to your edge. Your labored breathing, your soft moans, were music to her ears.

With her middle finger Wanda entered your pussy, stretching it just to use it. “Now, let’s see how long you can hold out before you break and beg for release…”

Her fingers never stopped their torturous dance, the rhythm relentless and deliciously teasing. Wanda pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, but she always held on, keeping the tension at the perfect point, where pleasure and frustration mixed into something almost unbearable. You were her masterpiece, and Wanda was determined to savor every second of your surrender.

“Aahn… Please! This is torture!” You whimpered, causing her to let out a wicked laugh.

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with dark, wicked pleasure as she heard your desperate moan. Her fingers continued to tease your clit with repetitive, maddening movements. The smell of her arousal is intoxicating, she thought, inhaling deeply. The room was silent except for your panting breaths and the soft, wet sounds of her fingers on your clit.

The woman leaned in, her breath hot against your ear, and whispered,

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, darling?”

Wanda’s words were a sensual challenge, a promise of pleasure and torment as she continued to circle your sensitive core, always just out of reach. Your skin was so soft, so warm beneath her touch, Wanda always marveled, savoring the contrast with her own cold flesh.

“You want me inside you so badly, don’t you? Want me to claim that tight little pussy as my own?”

Her voice was a dark, seductive whisper, her tone dripping with forbidden desire as she finally plunged two fingers into your quivering, tight opening.

“But first…”

The woman’s fingers began to pump in and out of the slick channel, her touch rough and commanding as she stretched and filled you. You’re so responsive, so eager to please, she thought—a wave of predatory satisfaction coursing through her body.

“You have to earn it, baby… show mommy how good you can be.” The words sounded like an order, a sensual threat that left no room for refusal as she continued to thrust her fingers into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

Part of Wanda wanted to devour you completely, feeling a tug of internal conflict. But prolonging your pleasure… and hers… is so much more satisfying.

Wanda could feel your inner walls contracting around her long fingers, your body shaking with need. The sound of your moans and whimpers filled the air, a symphony of desire that only fueled Wanda’s own dark hunger.

“That’s right, my sweet kitten…” she growled, her voice low and husky with lust. “Let me hear how much you want this… Let me hear how much you love me.”

As she continued to drive you wild, Wanda could not help but revel in the power she had over you. The overwhelming satisfaction coursing through your mature body was almost as intoxicating as the thought of tasting your blood.

You raved, sticking your tongue out, and driving Wanda wild as well—her own hand burning just to slap that little face of yours.

“Fuck me, Mommy!” You growled at her, as you rubbed your coochie against her fingers. “I… I can be good! I will be good! I love you sooo much…!” You screamed the last part, not even remembering that the twins slept in the room down the hall.

Wanda’s body shook in triumph—as if she had regained her power by hearing you say that, by seeing you beg. When she heard your plea, your words were sweet, seductive music to her. With a low, guttural growl, the woman pulled her fingers from your dripping cunt, a trail of slick arousal coating Wanda’s skin as she brought her hand to her mouth.

“Mmm, such a good girl…” The woman’s voice was a dark, approving purr as she licked your essence from her fingers, the taste of your desire fueling Wanda’s own lust.

Determined, Wanda stands up, walking to her own closet and looking for a specific drawer. A hidden drawer locked with a key—her eyes widening at the amount of toys stored there.

“Now, let’s see if you can handle Mommy…” Without waiting for an answer, Wanda positioned herself between your thighs, the cold, hard length pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Hold on tight, baby…” Wanda warns sensually as she slowly thrusts into your suffocating heat, inch by inch claiming your tight, throbbing channel as her own.

“Mommy’s going to ride you hard, baby… and you’re going to accept every inch like the good little slut you are.” Entering the strap-on slowly, noticing you shudder—not being used to the size, Wanda stops her movements and only returns when she sees you nod positively.

The grip around your waist tightens as she feels your body tremble and convulse beneath her; The screams of pain and pleasure were music to your ears. The thrusts grew stronger, each one deeper and more intense than the last, as Wanda claimed your body with a primal, animalistic urgency she had never experienced before.

“That’s it, baby… take Mommy’s cock.” The woman’s voice came out as a guttural growl, her breathing ragged as it thrust in and out of your stretched, slick channel, the sound of flesh slapping against the strap echoing through the room.

“You’re mine now… all mine…” Her hands dug into your hips as she moved with reckless abandon, driven by a hunger that could never be sated.

“So fucking tight… so fucking perfect.” The praise was dark and savage, each word punctuated by the relentless thrusts of Wanda’s hips as she thrust into you, lost in the exquisite sensation of claiming her little girl’s body once and for all.

“Mo-mommy! It’s too much!” I can’t take it!” You roared, and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard in response.

Her hand came down with a resounding slap, the sound echoing around the room as her palm connected with the firm flesh of your ass. Her fingers dug in, kneading the reddened skin as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Oh, but you can, baby… you can take it…” The promise was seductive, a dark and wicked encouragement as she continued to pound into you with brutal, unrelenting force. “Mommy’s almost…” The woman’s hips snapped forward, pushing the entire length even deeper into your quivering channel, the feel of your body clenching around her like a vice driving Wanda wild with lust.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, baby? I’m going to soak Mommy’s cock with your sweet juices…” Wanda’s breath was hot against your skin, a husky, commanding purr as she whispered her own filthy desires, each word a sensual threat that left no room for refusal. “Now, don’t make Mommy wait any longer… Cum for me, baby. NOW!”

Watching the female body in front of her tremble in a powerful orgasm, she noticed your lost gaze, like a trance. Wanda pulls out of you and as she approaches, she sees you lying there, vulnerable and surrendered—your eyes unfocused as if you were floating in another dimension. Your chest rises and falls in an irregular rhythm, your hands rest at your sides, your fingers slightly curled. It’s a state that Wanda knew only superficially, but with you, it seemed even more intense.

“Is everything okay, bunny?” Wanda asked softly, sliding her fingers along the contour of your face, tracing your jaw until they reach your neck.

You don’t answer right away. Your eyes slowly fix on Wanda, as if she was returning from a distant place.

“It's… a lot.” Your voice came out softly, almost inaudible, and you tried to force a smile, but your expression revealed the depth of the moment you were going through.

The woman leaned in, maintaining eye contact with you, and let her hand glide through your sweat-drenched hair. It was an almost mechanical gesture, yet it seemed rooted in something bigger.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me.” Wanda's voice sounded firm, yet she didn’t lose the softness she knew you needed right now.

You closed your eyes and obeyed, struggling to draw in air before slowly releasing it. You repeated the process a few times as Wanda stroked your hair, murmuring comforting words.

“Good girl.” The woman said, seeing the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of your lips.

As Wanda watched you begin to recover, she felt something deep and primal stir within her. The way you trusted her, how you surrendered completely, was proof of something she could barely name, yet it made her feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time.

She continued to stroke your hair with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened. Her eyes traced every detail of your face — the skin glistening with sweat, your lips slightly parted, the calm, almost ethereal expression that now replaced the previous turmoil.

“Are you okay, Dekta?” She repeated, though the answer was already there, evident in your calmer breathing and the way your body began to relax under her touch.

"Yeah… I think so," you replied weakly, still not opening your eyes.

Wanda tilted her head, a small smile dancing on her lips as her hand continued the slow, soothing motion in your hair. She could feel the contrast between the warmth of your body and the gentle breeze coming through the window. Everything seemed perfectly in sync, as if the universe had paused for this moment between you two.

When you finally opened your eyes, you met her gaze, a mix of care, possession, and something you couldn’t quite identify. There was something deeper, something that made your heart leap in your chest.

"You need to rest now," Wanda said in a tone that was both an order and a comfort. She brushed back the strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, her touch as delicate as a feather.

You tried to sit up, still trembling, but Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from moving away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was firm, but there was no harshness—only determination.

"I… to my room," you said hesitantly, your gaze still uncertain, trying to understand what she wanted.

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours like an unbreakable spell.

"I want you to lie here and sleep in my arms," she declared, her voice low and heavy with intensity. It wasn’t a request; it was a decision.

Your heart raced again, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. It felt wrong; all of this was wrong, but there was something in her tone, something in the way she looked at you, that made any resistance melt away.

You simply nodded, unable to argue, and let Wanda guide you back down onto the bed. She settled you in with almost reverent care, positioning herself beside you and pulling your body against hers.

As you felt her warmth surrounding you, the familiar scent enveloping her, it was as if all doubts and fears dissolved for a brief moment. Wanda's arms tightened around you, firm yet comfortable, and her hand returned to your hair, continuing the slow, reassuring gesture.

“Sleep, bunny,” she murmured, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could finally rest.

Holding you in her arms, as if you were her most precious stone—Wanda let her hands glide along the contours of your face, watching your breath settle into the calm of sleep. Her hands trembled for a moment before they closed into fists, the knuckles turning white. She stared at her reflection in the mirror next to the bed—the deep, shadowed eyes revealing an internal battle that seemed endless.

You loved her. You. Loved. her.

The thought reverberated in her mind like a dissonant melody—wrong and delightful at the same time. There was no denying it: she felt alive like she hadn't in a long time. There was something dark in knowing that, even with all the lines that should never be crossed, you had fallen for her, given in to the magnetic force that existed between you.

And Wanda liked it. Liked it a lot.

Guilt pulsed through her veins, like a poison that burned slowly. She knew how wrong it was to feel this way, knew she should push you away, protect you from herself and the implications of what you had confessed. But at the same time, the feeling of being loved so intensely, so absolutely, awakened something in her she didn’t know still existed.

Vision had never looked at her that way. He had never pronounced her name as if it were sacred. He had never shown signs of wanting everything from her. But you? You looked at her as if Wanda were the sun and the only thing in the sky worth admiring.

And it was intoxicating.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to sort through the chaos in her mind. A dark satisfaction crawled through her chest, like a shadow that refused to fade away. She hadn’t done anything on purpose to earn her feelings—or at least, that’s what she told herself. But deep down, she knew there was something terribly selfish about all of it.

She liked being your weakness. Your downfall. Your redemption.

A brief, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. It wasn’t a smile of pure happiness, but something more complex, more twisted. As if the weight of the wrong choices she hadn’t yet made was already starting to materialize, but the pleasure of being desired outweighed every ounce of remorse.

She opened her eyes, staring at her reflection again. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Wanda Maximoff,” she murmured to herself, her voice low, almost inaudible. 

She couldn’t have you. She knew that. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be desired. It didn’t mean that, in her darkest moments, she didn’t revel in the idea of having marked you in a way that no one else would ever be able to erase.

“I’m a monster,” she whispered to the mirror, the smile fading. And maybe it was true. But for now, what mattered was that you loved her. Against all odds. Against everything that was right.

And that was enough to feed the fire burning inside her—even if it meant she’d end up consuming herself in the process.

~*~

Tag List <3

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@beggingonmykneesforher @idkwhatever580 @valentine585 @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld

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[rroseselavyyy]

unison - myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

warnings: smut, yoongi is in his late twenties but has mint hair 👁️👄👁️ breedinggggg kink ofcccc, make up s*x? oral s*x (female receiving)

Yoongi was your first in everything. He was your first real boyfriend since he gave you a red tulip with a shy smirk plastered on his face in kindergarten. You shared your first kiss with him when you were about to kiss his cheek and he turned his head slightly to meet your lips with his. You were even confident enough to ask him to take your virginity whereas he asked you for the thousandth time if you were sure.

It all felt like your own personal fairytale until you felt like it was all coming crashing down. You were constantly fighting over irrelevant things, and each time you fought, you ended up sleeping in different rooms.

You didn't let Yoongi sleep in your bed for about three weeks, saying that Holly would catch a cold if he didn't sleep in a warm bed in this cold weather.

To his ears, this sounded like a lame excuse for not letting him into your bed. He was longing for your touch, and your refusal to let him into bed added to his frustration.

One day, Jungkook came to him and told him that you had insecurities about yourself and that you were always thinking that Yoongi was going to leave you.

Yoongi couldn't understand why you would think he would break up with you when you were the most beautiful thing that ever happened to him.

Then it occurred to him that maybe you were just lonely because he spent so much time in his studio. Maybe you felt neglected because he was late coming home.

He didn't want you to feel that way, so he decided to make it up to you the best way he could, by making love to you. He didn't want to let you slip through his fingers.

"Don't expect me to sleep on the couch tonight-" He looked at you with his dark orbs through your reflection in the mirror, making your tired eyes ringed with dark circles met with his. He sat on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide, his weight resting on his arms. His heated eyes intently watched the movement of your delicate hands rubbing lotion onto your soft legs. "Holly fell asleep on his bed. Plus I was in the studio for about eight hours, I think I hurt my back."

You had finally finished moisturising your skin, got up from your chair and made your way to the spot between Yoongi's legs. He looked shamelessly at your body under the silk robe, the belt of which was loose enough to give him a perfect view of your breasts, and your body trembled like a leaf in the wind under his gaze.

"It's okay, you can have the bed. I'm not tired yet." You ran your fingers through his mint-colored hair, looking down into his lustful eyes as you slowly pulled at his hair to catch a glimpse of his angelic face.

He looked at you under his lashes like someone under a spell, slender fingers found their way around the silk material of your robe and gave a little tug at your belt, causing your robe to fall down your body and pile up around your feet.

You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes as he planted wet kisses on your inner thighs, kitten eyes never leaving yours as if you were his sun.

Even though your stubborn self kept warning you not to give in, it had been so long since he had touched you like this. Loved you like this. "I'll be in the living room-"

"No-" His whimper was barely audible, muffled by the hungry kisses planted on your hipbone, tracing a path across your skin. He gripped your thighs tightly as if his life depended on it and pulled you impossibly close to his face, letting his tongue savor the sweet peach aroma that lingered on your skin as he sucked on your sensitive skin.

"I've missed you so much. Please- please just let me have you. I'm tired of fighting over nothing."

You had never seen him so helpless, as if you were his only chance to breathe in an oxygen-deprived room.

You wanted to slap yourself in the face for falling for his tricks again and again, but how could you resist when his touch made you feel so good?

"You can have me, baby. Take what is yours." You didn't have to tell him twice when he suddenly wrapped his arm around the curve of your ass and made you sit on his leg, your shocked scream dying in your throat.

He brought his hand adorned with rings to your cheek, stroking the skin ever so gently. You leaned on his hand with your eyes closed as you planted kisses on his palm as you melted in his embrace.

"I love you so much." He whispered above your lips as he wrapped his free hand around your waist, closing the mere distance between you and him. "You annoy me like no one else, but I love you too much to let you go."

"I'm not annoying." You murmured under your breath as he toyed with your nipples, circling them much to his delight.

You desperately rolled your hips against his leg, trying to find some sort of friction as your arousal made a mess of his jeans.

He planted on the column of your throat, exchanging them with love bites that traced a path across your sensitive skin like a field of blood-red poppies.

"Yeah? Who gave me a black eye just for talking to a girl? You are such a pain in the neck, my love."

As his strong arms carried you to the centre of the bed, you felt like your back met with a bed of flowers. He took off his clothes before settling between your legs.

One of your hands brushed his sweaty, mint-coloured bangs from his forehead, and the other tugged at the hair behind his neck to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

"I think someone should give me an award for public service." He whispered hotly into your ear as he brought his veiny hand to your throat, squeezing it slowly to give you pleasure rather than suffocate you. Your heart was ready to burst out of its cage as the sensations rushing through every fibre of your being became too much for you to think straight. "It takes a lot of patience to tame a brat like you."

"Yoongi.." You let out a whimper as he taunted you, the blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. Your lips were only inches apart as he pinned you between his naked body and the bed. The sweet scent of lemongrass emanating from his skin was enough to make your head spin as your hips rolled uncontrollably against his thigh. "Patience, love. I'm not going anywhere."

He gave you a final peck on the lips before his lips moved down to your belly, exchanging wet kisses with subtle nibbles. His kisses made you arch your body into his mouth as loud moans and groans came from your mouth. With every kiss he planted, he whispered into your skin that he was yours, as if he wanted to ink that fact into your skin.

He planted wet kisses on your inner thighs as you tugged at his hair. Your mouth was hanging open as his kisses exchanged with long stripes of licking on your thighs. He parted your legs just enough to kiss your already wet pussy.

"You look so good between my thighs baby." Your praise encouraged him to go on, sucking on your sweet nectar mixed with his saliva. You didn't even realise that you were pulling at his mint-coloured hair, that your knuckles were brushing against his scalp as you reached your orgasm.

He rested his head against your thigh to gaze intently at you for a moment, it excited him to see your cheeks flush. You couldn't help but moan at the sight of his chin glistening with your natural essence as you came down from your high, his minty hair wet with sweat making him look even more handsome.

"I haven't touched myself for weeks. I've been saving all my cum for pretty pussy." He crawled on top of you as you tried to regulate your breathing as he stroked his cock to keep himself hard. He grabbed your side with one hand while the other aligned his cock with your pussy lips. "Will you be a good girl and help me give Holly a sibling?"

Without thinking of anything but him inside you, you nodded feverishly. It seemed he wasn't the one who had missed you, the way he had made you dumb.

You were so wet that it was easy for him to bottom out with one thrust. His hips began to speed up to fuck you faster. He held your hand and brought it to where his heart was, as if to prove that your insecurities were wrong. "Yoongi, I'm close-" Your hips began to move in unison as Yoongi growled louder against your skin, fucking you harder when you were a mess under his body. "Me too, babygirl."

All those fights where you broke each other's hearts for nothing meant nothing to you in that moment, you decided you were a match made in heaven, especially when he was fucking you.

One last thrust and he ejaculated into your pussy, almost whimpering at the feel of your tight cunt milking him. You were both panting heavily as you tried to regulate your breathing.

"I love you, please do not think that I will ever leave you again."

[odaengz]

TAKE A CHANCE WITH ME! — yushi smau

chapter 4 ! don’t you worry your pretty little head (short written, 621 words)

content warnings — short written portion before smau portion, cussing, timestamps are irrelevant, reader is a pathetic yearner! yay!

you squinted at your phone. ningning just loved to mess with you.

but in all honesty, spending time with anyone was better than being alone with your thoughts.

because being alone meant thinking about him—and lately, it seemed like that was all you could do.

the past two days, he was all you could think about. the memory of that night clung onto you like smoke.

his smile appeared in the midst of crowded hallways, as if the ghost of him was following you. his voice, soft, like cotton candy, echoed against the walls of quiet study rooms. the warmth of his touch, lingered every time a friend brushed against your shoulder.

the thought of him was eating you alive.

every passing moment, a reminder that the perfect boy was out there. and you had met him. you just failed to keep him.

even as you walked across campus, your thoughts drifted back to that night. how nervous he was when you asked to kiss him. how good he looked in his stupid outfit. how comfortable he made you feel.

part of you had even considered the idea that the guy ningning mentioned might somehow be him. of course you knew better, but that didn’t stop you from hoping.

—

you stepped into the study room that ningning was in and you scanned the space.

that was when your eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. a boy with dark hair and puffed out cheeks—riku.

your eyes blinked rapidly before it flicked to ningning. “riku. you were talking about riku?”

riku’s eyes, which were once laser-focused on the laptop in front of him, shot up to meet yours. “you were talking about me?”

you scoffed, plopping down onto a chair next to him. “she said the man of my dreams was in here.”

ningning let out a laugh. “no. i wasn’t talking about—“

her sentence was cut short by the sound of the door creaking open.

that was when he walked in.

silver hair. white, oversized t-shirt. baggy grey sweats. thick-rimmed glasses. a smile so bright that it almost felt annoying—like he didn’t realize the power it held. and big doe eyes. the kind that could shut someone down with one look.

he was laughing as he entered, like he owned the place. too much energy for a library. two other boys followed behind him. you didn’t recognize any of them, not that it mattered anyways.

your mind shifted, quietly praying that another boy—that boy—would walk in behind them. but then the last one pulled the door shut. and just like that, your hope had been left out in the hallway behind it.

your gaze trailed back to the silver-haired boy. something about him felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

before you could even stop yourself, you were staring. ningning noticed this, and her eyes shot you a look—one that screamed “i told you so.”—but you shrugged it off, frowning. whoever could’ve walked in could’ve been the most attractive man on earth—and you still wouldn’t have cared.

not unless it was the boy from the bar.

the silver-haired boy sat down on an empty chair next to you and turned to you with a curious smile. “hi,” he offered his hand, “i’m oh sion. you must be ningning and riku’s friend?”

you shook it back, “hi! im sung yn. and yes, unfortunately i am.”

ningning gasped, “oh you love me.”

the table giggled at the interaction and without hesitation, sion pulled everyone into study mode.

and just like that, you were alone again—your mind left to wander back to that night. back to him.

wondering if maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about you too.

navigation ! masterlist | prev | next

synopsis — fresh out of a horrific break up, yn gets invited out to the club by her friends. on the other hand, tokuno yushi, the quietest in his group of friends, is dragged to the same one. after spending a night filled with a whirlwind of emotions together, they both make the mistake of never formally introducing themselves. they are both determined to find each other again. after all, if they were really soulmates, fate would take over again. right?

author’s note — hayy another written chapter yayyyy!! looking at the layout i have planned for this story a lot of it might actually be written … i wrote this at like 2 am and barely proof read it so it might be dew dew .. but YAY yushi and yn’s first bridge has been formed muahaha

taglist (open!) — @dudekiss3r @suzayaaa @jaellymint @sillyyuz @spacejip @ditsydeer101 @holyhaech @buns-inhiding @sibwol @ant-onie @yvshi @taroddori @ttjisung @kyubing @yushiela @sakuyaswish @chengerinelove @tae2an @nahyuckers @flaminghotyourmom @kaosuni @ayukas @t-102 @jaeyunluvbot @bananinhazz @sionshii @kkunyangz @love4yubin @heewrld @calmzhi @hypneosis @bruberri

© odaengz 2025

[perfectlyoongi]

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who spends summer days at a lake with you. the tranquility of nature was enough to make Taehyung feel completely relaxed. adding you as company only improved his entire experience. when the days started to get longer and the heat was suffocating, Taehyung would always ask if you wanted to forget the world. “let’s run away,” he used to say. “let’s run away and forget all our responsibilities. just me and you. away from everything that holds us back and hurts us.” and you accepted, you always accepted. partly, you accepted it because you knew it would make Taehyung happy – that was what you had agreed upon; but there was also a part of you that accepted it because you knew that those days, away from everything that distressed and hurt you, were the closest you would get to heaven.

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who takes you to balls all over the world. Taehyung was a devoted fan of that mystical magic that surrounds fairy tales. there was something in that divine hope that held Taehyung and made him want to dream. as such, he just wanted to try to recreate the enchantment he felt whenever he heard or read a more fanciful story – and the best way to reproduce all that magic was by going to small, beautiful dances. Taehyung didn’t care about dates or places or themes – it was all irrelevant. all he wanted was to know what time he should pick you up so you could spend an endless night in each other’s arms. of course, having already experienced a considerable number of dances Taehyung had a favorite: on the warmest spring nights, when the birds began to learn the symphony of joy and all the stars created sketches of enchanted stories, Taehyung liked giving himself to you. always keeping you close to him, holding your waist as if the secrets of the cosmos were in his hands, looking at you with the radiance stolen from the most romantic gods, Taehyung liked those spring dances, for it was in them that all the celestial magic covered you in a tenuous cloak of dreams. “there will be a masquerade ball this summer. do you want to go with me? we can have clothes made to match your favorite color.”

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who asks you to sleep there more often than he should. yes, Taehyung knew you had a meeting early tomorrow. he also knew that all your clothes were in your house. and yes, it was obvious he knew you couldn’t sleep comfortably without your pillow. but, did you know? did you know how much your presence calmed Taehyung? did you know how your words were the only ones that could lull Taehyung into a deep sleep? did you know that without you Taehyung simply couldn’t have a good night? so if you knew, why don’t you just stay there with him? in his bed? being wrapped in his nervous arms as he whispered to you how grateful he was that you made this effort for him – why did you want to abandon him? “just tonight, please. i’ll take you to work tomorrow and you can sleep with me a little longer. it won’t do you any harm. you know how much i enjoy being here with you.”

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who can get you into any event. Taehyung didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘impossible’ when it was about you. you were a special person, someone who had a certain charm and was capable of molding the entire universe in your image if you wanted it – Taehyung just had to pamper you. you being the owner of all the celestial dust that enchanted the world and made Taehyung a real person, only made he use his influence as his thanks. fashion shows, autograph sessions, gallery openings, anything you wanted – Taehyung knew you better than anyone, he knew where you liked to go, what you liked to do. always accompanying you, getting lost in your wide smile and the way your eyes sparkled when you saw something you really liked, Taehyung took you to experience the world; there was no experience that left you curious, there was nothing forbidden for you. everything you wanted was yours long before you asked for it. “don’t hide anything from me. all i want is to keep you happy in this relationship. and if i have the possibility of increasing this happiness, just tell me. it’s everything to me. you are everything to me.”

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who gives you a black card to spend on your birthday. on every birthday of yours you woke up with a bouquet of flowers and an envelope addressed to you – Taehyung did everything he could to make sure the first thing you saw on your birthday was that little gift from him, so you could try to understand how much you meant to him. the flowers you received were always the same, your favorites in your favorite colors, wrapped in paper sprayed with Taehyung’s perfume; the envelope, however, the envelope was the real gift. a small, white card came signed in Taehyung’s handwriting and next to it was Taehyung’s black card. on that day of yours, not as different as the others, but more special to you, Taehyung would give you the opportunity to go shopping alone or with your friends and spend as much as you could. it was always the same gift, always the same card, always the same ritual – but for you, it was everything. “happy birthday, darling. have fun during the day, and don’t forget that this night you are mine. xx”

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who likes it when you wear the clothes and jewelry he gave you when you’re not with him. Taehyung liked to give you gifts; it was always charming to see your curious eyes opening the bags or boxes, your smile painting Taehyung’s dreams. as such, Taehyung offered you everything: shoes, coats, necklaces, even the groceries for your home – anything that could be bought could very well be offered to you. but of everything he gives you, of seeing you happy with so many things, he would have to confess that when you went out to have fun or relax and use something he offered, Taehyung’s heart smiled a little more. it may seem strange, maybe even childish, but when Taehyung knew that you were walking around the city showing off the clothes and necklaces he had given you at the beginning of your relationship, he felt closer to you, you felt closer to him. seeing you in those clothes when you didn’t have anything planned with him made Taehyung believe that your relationship could very well turn out to be something more. “i saw your instagram story and i just want to say i’m glad you’re still wearing those boots. they look good on you. you look good with everything, but yea. i called just to tell you that.”

SUGAR-DADDY!TAEHYUNG who kisses you under the eiffel tower. on your longer trips, when neither of you needed to worry about dates and deadlines, Taehyung liked to take you to Paris. it was in the magic of that city that Taehyung hoped your love would blossom. it was in the beauty of that city that Taehyung fell even more in love with you. and it was in the hope of that city that Taehyung declared himself to you again and again and again. under the stars, in the endless nights of aimless stars, Taehyung kissed you. once. and another. and another. and another. he didn’t need to say anything, there was no need for that – Taehyung just had to gently hold your waist for you to understand what he wanted, what he would do. they were tender kisses that covered your heart with security and comfort, small confessions of love that would forever remain embedded in your soul. and only this magic happened in Paris – until he finds the courage to recreate it at home.

[cece693]

What Can I Say? I'm A Man Pt. 2

pairing: will graham x male reader tags: beverly being the best wing woman, will trying to be good but failing, bad seduction skills, attempt at humor

For a few sweet, blissful months after you and Will Graham finally got together, life seemed almost perfect. The two of you enjoyed flirty banter in the FBI corridors, discreetly held hands under conference tables, and frequently snuck off for “coffee runs” that somehow always ended with will unsuccessfully hiding a hickey on his neck. Beverly Katz, having practically orchestrated your union, basked in the smug satisfaction of a successful matchmaker.

But behind Will’s gentle smiles, darkness loomed. His work—profiling some of the most depraved killers in existence—took an ever-growing toll. His nightmares escalated into vivid hallucinations. He’d jolt awake in cold sweats, and sometimes he’d see flickers of horror even in broad daylight. The pressure in his mind built until something had to give.

Try as you did to be his anchor, Will—stubborn, self-sacrificing Will—decided to end things. It happened one evening, on the porch of his Wolf Trap house, where he quietly insisted you deserved better than a man haunted by killers and ghosts. You argued, nearly in tears, but he only murmured apologies and asked you to leave, shutting you out of his life.

One moment, you were adoring him—and, let’s be real, especially that marvelous butt—the next, you were left with a gaping hole in your heart. Your bed felt emptier without Will’s presence, and your office mornings far less exciting without sneaking peeks at his backside in those perfectly fitted slacks.

Despite the ache in your chest, you knew you had to keep functioning. Enter Daniel, a friendly data analyst with a razor-sharp sense of humor. The two of you bonded over complaining about the FBI’s ancient coffee machine and the subpar quality of the break room muffins. It was refreshing to hang out with someone whose biggest drama was a broken keyboard, and not, say, nightmarish hallucinations. Of course, your office lunches with Daniel were just friendship, nothing more. But Will—holed up in his self-imposed isolation—heard whispers of “Oh, look at [Y/N] and Daniel, they’re so tight,” and promptly jumped to the worst conclusions.

Beverly Katz, noticing how you walked around with a perpetual cloud over your head, tried her best to cheer you up. Whether it was slipping you candy bars or dropping off ridiculous memes about office romance, she kept the spark of hope alive. She also kept a keen eye on Will, who moped around like a tragic Victorian ghost whenever you were in the room.

One day, she caught Will glaring down the hallway as you and Daniel joked about something, Daniel gently nudging your shoulder. She dragged Will into the nearest conference room, slamming the door behind them.

“Okay, Graham, enough is enough,” Beverly growled, arms folded.

“What are you doing?” Will asked, startled.

“I should ask you that question! You’re letting the best thing that ever happened to you”—she jabbed a thumb toward the door—“slip away. Because, what, you’re mopey and think you’re protecting him?” Will opened his mouth to protest, but Beverly cut him off.

“He’s miserable, you’re miserable. If you don’t do something soon, I’ll confiscate your fishing rods, your dogs, and—and—heck, I’ll even make sure your flannels go mysteriously missing.” At the mention of his beloved flannels, Will blanched.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes.

Finally, Will sighed in defeat. “I can’t stand seeing him with that Daniel guy…”

Beverly’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God, you idiot. They’re friends. You think [Y/N] would replace you that fast? Did you forget how he all but worships your butt?”

Will turned crimson. “I… that’s… irrelevant.”

Beverly snorted. “It’s very relevant. You think Daniel’s walking around in jeans that fit that well? C’mon, Graham, you’ve got the upper hand if you’d just use it.” She slammed a scrap of paper on the table—her so-called “Winning [Y/N] Back Strategy,” complete with bullet points like “Wear something that shows off your assets” and “Stop being a stubborn idiot.” Will gulped as he read it.

Spurred on by Beverly’s ultimatum, Will devised a (very shaky) plan to win you back. He recalled how you used to watch him whenever he walked across the bullpen, gaze shamelessly trailing his backside. In fact, he remembered once catching you drooling. A small flame of confidence flickered in him—maybe that was the key. He rummaged through his closet, searching for an outfit he’d normally never dare to wear. Eventually, he settled on a snug, dark sweater that emphasized his chest and arms, plus a pair of jeans that left very little to the imagination. He stood before the mirror, tugging at the denim awkwardly.

“Beverly said I should show off my figure,” he muttered, cheeks burning. “But do I look like I’m trying too hard?” His reflection did not respond, but the jeans did confirm they were practically painted on. It would have to do.

Though Beverly had suggested a polite, straightforward approach—like calling you or knocking on your door—Will decided he needed something “dramatic.” It had worked once before, in a chaotic, heart-thumping sort of way. So he drove to your apartment late at night, using the spare key he still had from your happier days. Maybe if you saw him in this outfit, you’d realize once and for all that it was him you wanted, not Daniel.

Of course, Will’s hands shook from nerves, so when he tried to insert the key, he nearly dropped it. The door swung open rather forcefully, banging against the wall and causing you—half-asleep on your sofa—to leap up. “What the—?!” you yelped, fumbling for a nearby object (your TV remote) like it was a weapon. “Who’s there?”

When you saw Will step in—face flushed, hair in disarray, wearing the tightest outfit known to mankind—your jaw dropped. The moment felt bizarrely familiar, reminiscent of a previous break-in, except this time Will seemed more anxious than apologetic.

“I—I wanted to see you,” Will stammered. “I’m sorry I barged in, but I couldn’t wait.”

Your heart pounded, torn between confusion, excitement, and a flicker of anger. After all, he had been the one to break things off. And yet, boy, did he look good. “Will?” you breathed. “What are you—how did you—why do you look like that?”

Will cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “Look, I know I messed up. I pushed you away because I was afraid my hallucinations, these nightmares, would drag you down. But I can’t handle the thought of you with someone else.” He paused, glancing away. “That Daniel guy…Beverly says it’s not romantic, but I kept imagining the worst. I just—I need to know if...if it’s over for good. Or if there’s a chance.”

You stared at him, mind reeling. Part of you wanted to scoff, “You left me, remember?” But the other part—okay, most of you—was helplessly drawn to the sight of Will Graham, eyes glimmering with longing, chest heaving in a form-fitting sweater, and those incredible jeans hugging his hips. Your gaze fell involuntarily south, and Will caught it. His cheeks flared red, but a tiny hopeful flicker danced in his eyes.

“I, um…tried to wear something you might appreciate,” he admitted softly. “I’m not exactly smooth at this whole seduction thing. Beverly said I should show off…my ‘best assets.’”

Your heart squeezed in both amusement and affection. “She actually said that?”

Will nodded, cringing. “I’m pretty sure she threatened to take my dogs if I didn’t step up my game.” Despite the swirl of emotions, a laugh bubbled out of you. Leave it to Beverly to strong-arm Will into a skin-tight outfit. You set the TV remote aside, stepping forward, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Will, I’m not with Daniel,” you said plainly, staring him down. “We’re coworkers—friends, at most." Silence fell, tension palpable. Then your eyes flicked over him again, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. “Those jeans look uncomfortable,” you murmured, voice low.

Will’s ears turned scarlet. “Beverly said they’d, uh, ‘accentuate the glutes.’ Her words, not mine.”

You tried—tried very hard—not to laugh. “I see. And to think I once believed you picked them out.”

He gave a rueful chuckle. “My seduction skills are minimal, at best.”

Taking a small step closer, you let your fingers brush the hem of his snug sweater. “I appreciate the effort, though,” you said softly. “And, for the record, I am very fond of your glutes.”

Will swallowed hard, heart pounding. “I know. You made that pretty clear when we first started seeing each other.”

Your chest constricted with a mix of love and exasperation. “I can’t believe you, Will Graham. You break my heart, vanish, then come back wearing these”—you gestured at the jeans—“like you’re in a rom-com with a midnight booty call.”

He gave an awkward shrug. “I was desperate.”

Despite everything, a tender warmth spread through you. You reached up, cupping his face, feeling the tremble in his cheeks. You leaned in, about to seal the moment with a kiss. Then your phone—sitting on the coffee table—began buzzing like an angry wasp. You glanced over and saw Beverly’s name. Will groaned.

“Of course,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “She probably wants to make sure I didn’t chicken out.” You answered on speakerphone, still keeping one hand splayed over Will’s (very tense) abs.

“Hello?”

Beverly’s voice crackled through. “Hey, [Y/N], just checking in. My spidey senses say Graham might be there, parading around in unforgivably tight pants. Am I right?”

Will flushed, pressing a hand to his face. You stifled a laugh. “Wow, your intuition is spot on. Should I be concerned about privacy?”

Beverly snorted. “Please, I’m the FBI’s top meddler. Your privacy died the moment you two started eye-banging each other. Anyway, are we getting a happy ending tonight, or do I need to stage another intervention?”

Will leaned over, speaking into the phone, voice tight with embarrassment. “We’re fine, Beverly. Go away.”

Her laughter peeled through the speaker. “Take that as a yes. Good luck, lovebirds.” She hung up before either of you could protest.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you set the phone aside, turning back to Will. “Seems like she’s invested in our outcome.”

He exhaled slowly. “She means well. Even if she forced me into these jeans.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Then maybe I should thank her, because you look—” you gestured up and down, “—incredible.”

Will’s gaze flickered with relief, anxiety, and a growing hunger. Carefully, you slid your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the snug denim across his hips. He sucked in a breath at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

“I’ve missed this,” you admitted, giving a playful squeeze. “And by this, I mean everything—but especially your…”You trailed off, letting your hands speak for you by gently brushing over that firm curve.

A shaky laugh escaped him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Never claimed otherwise,” you teased, leaning in to brush your lips against his. This time, there was no interruption—just the slow, sweet press of mouths rediscovering each other. The heat was immediate, tangled with relief and longing. It reminded you of all the reasons you fell for Will in the first place—his warmth, his vulnerability, and yes, the glorious behind you now shamelessly palmed.

[athenaluciscaelum]

Can I have a request for DMC 5 Dante x female reader who's immortal?

Dante falls in love with a fellow demon hunter who's an immortal but the reader is afraid of losing someone or just watching her previous lovers grow old leaving her behind. Reader was afraid she'll lose Dante as well.

(I'm not sure if Dante might be immortal too despite he's half-human, any thoughts?)

Note: I am very uncomfortable with the idea of ageing and immortality, not like those people who have a fear of ageing. No. But to think about it, it leaves me in this weird spot where I am looking at centuries and centuries in a span of one play (one stage of life). It's thought provoking, with a little fear being introduced on how irrelevant everything is in respect to time. Is time even real? Anyway. My introduction to immortal characters was the Forever series and The Man from Earth.

That being said, I will still write it because, sure, why not? My writing is lower than beginner; the best I can do is explore the ideas.

Please anon, if you can in any way let me know if you liked it or not. It will be appreciated.

Once Upon a Time

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Rated: Mature

Words: 4815 words

Warning: Mature theme, Gore, Sex, Death, Aging

Disclaimer:

Feel free to leave comments, but remember to be nice and civil.

LET'S ROCK!!

You were bad at calculating when you were born? When did it all start? Living for more than 2000 years now. You couldn't exactly remember where and when you were born. All you could remember was the mighty figure that raised his sword, Devil Sword Sparda, they called it. In the air, and declared, "The human world is now under my protection. The gates to Hell are sealed, and nothing shall pass through." It echoed throughout the world.

You didn't know it was 2000 years ago, but when you read the knowledge that came to you. You understand the myth or the legend in history was 2000 years ago. So you were sure you were more than 2000 years old.

You never saw the face of the figure they called Sparda, just his shadow casting on your lifeless body as you were ripped open with your guts spilling on the ground. Demons who did this to you were now vanished or sucked back to hell. You were there, lifeless, on the cold, hard ground. Your iris moved with all the energy you could summon. It looked all blurry and hazy. But something caught your eyes. You were in agonising pain, and you hoped you would die soon. You saw a statue of divinity, so with your spilled entrails. The last breath in you asked you, 'Crawl to it.' It was less than a meter; as you drew your last breath, your bloody hand touched it.

Something happened; you can't tell. But you woke up; it was freezing, your body felt cold, and your clothes were ripped where the demon slashed you, but there was no scar. Your guts must be in now. You felt pain, but it was bearable and subsiding with each second. It was snowing.

You stood up on your feet; they were red, and you made your way to the nearest hut. That's all you remember. You tried to find your first family back, but none were alive. You do not even remember them now.

You blinked, lying in your bed, an ugly way to start your day. You got up from the bed, started to make the bed and then hopped into the shower. You were tired, as you came back to put on your barmaid dress. You loved to wear corsets; they were so perfect. You don't understand why people have to demonise them now. They were perfectly fine even for working women or demon huntresses like you throughout human history. But then you thought, no rights for women were fine throughout most of human history as well. You remembered how much fun it was to blow up administrative buildings during the suffragette movement in England. What days – 'men only understand violence, so we give them violence' – or so everyone used to say back then. In the end, you opted for 'modern' underwear.

You put on your coat and watch. You were on a day off today; you didn't want to deal with any demon. Immortality came with its own benefits; you were a damn good demon hunter, and you got all the time in the world to gain knowledge and hone your skills. You started walking towards the park; sometimes it felt all so lonely to think everyone else who walked this earth has and will perish, but you would not. It won't be long before you have to change your name and place. It was usually every ten to fifteen years. Such a little time in your life span.

You were currently new in this city called Capulet City, a hotbed of demon hunters with someone called legendary devil hunters residing here. You were intrigued. You had heard all the myths, legends, and religions, and you knew what bullocks all of them were.

You were crossing a footbridge, and a man with white hair and a red coat walked past you. You didn't notice, but something stuck out. You turned to look at him without a thought; you shouted, "Wait!" The man did – handsome – first thought, and you berated yourself internally. Yes, he is tall, broad, muscular and handsome, and by your time on earth, you were sure he was packing a lot. But no, this was not the time. He looked at you with a smirk and spoke coolly, "Saw something you like, Miss?" You were lost in thought, and Dante raised his eyebrow. You remember this face; around a century and a half back, the same face in the smoke-filled streets of London. A man with the same face, a purple Victorian long coat, a monocle and features more elegantly framed than this. You remember that person. But you do not know why? But after living for so long, you have no will to challenge fate. You frowned. Could there be another person like you walking the earth for who knows how long?

You walked up to him and scanned him up and down. Man was intrigued, he spoke, "Hello?" You looked up at him, the voice wasn't right. But how could you remember it was more than a century ago? But no, his eyes were purple, and these were icy blue.

Man was losing his patience. "Okay, babe, I'm leaving..." And he started to climb down the stairs of the footbridge. You followed him down and expressed your distaste, "No! No! We need to talk…"

Man scoffed, "Talk? I don't even know you, Babe...go away...find another man to pester…" You kept following him. You held his hand in the middle of the road and stopped him. "No...we are talking..."

The man resigned. He was out of money and food for days anyway, "Fine...buy me lunch..." You blinked, "What!?" Man shrugged, "You want my time and attention; you better buy me a lunch. There is a great pizzeria around." Man started to point in the direction of the pizzeria.

You have seen a lot throughout your life, but never anything like this, curious. Maybe that's why he stuck out in your memory after more than a century. You frowned, "What kind of man asks a woman to pay?" Men of this generation never ceased to amaze you. Man shrugged, "I don't know, one who knows his value?" You didn't have anything to do better, so you nodded, "Fine... and I do not want your attention, just answers..." Man held up both his hands. "Fine... but I should tell you I'm irresistible...."

You rolled your eyes, "Lead the way..."

You two sat in a pizzeria near the window seat. He ordered two large Chicken BBQ and Pepperoni pizzas with two pints of beer. You didn't think to dress for a date. But he wasn't so bad now, you think. Answer or not, he was a fine lay.

Man grinned at you, "Now that our food and drinks are settled, my name's Dante..." Dante held out his hand over the table. You laughed a little and shook his hand. "Made sure you got paid upfront before giving out any information? I'm Y/N." Dante chomped down on his pizza; the man had some appetite. You can't deny how everything about this man was so intriguing or arousing. You had your fair share of men over the years. Some stayed in your heart deeper than others, but you always knew they were all fleeting and never made any real attempt to forge a relationship or have kids; they were lovers at best. You had to be very careful for the longest time in history since contraception was such a new and wonderful invention.

You looked at him and calculated him, "So what do you do, Mister Dante?" Dante let out a laugh, "Mister? Seriously... I'm not used to getting so much respect from women...especially feisty ones. But I am a handyman…"

You raised your eyebrow, some food for thought, handyman, too vague, as if trying to hide something. You spoke calculated, "What sort of assignments do you take, handyman? Maybe fix the hole in my wall?" Dante sipped his beer. "Umm...nahhh...more of pest control..."

You smirked, "I'm in somewhat of a pest control business myself..." Dante smirked, "Ohho... yeah...?" You nodded, "Pesky pests are so big and reoccurring these days, right?" Dante hummed in agreement, munching on his pizza... "I got the right guns for that..." You nodded, "I believe you do...."

Before you knew it, you were on the first floor of Devil May Cry... in his room, kissing him passionately as he kisses you back... your legs wrapped around his waist. You were rutting to his bulge; it was so big, you doubted in all these years you took into such a big monstrosity. Your hands cupped his face; you appreciated the older man. Though you never aged beyond twenty-five, there was something about older men that just made you feel so wet, especially one like Dante. You can guess he was around his forties... but back to the business.

Dante laid you down on the bed, his coat off; he pulled up his Henley and off ... You admired the beautifully sculpted body – it was muscular, the skin a bit aged, but silver hair on his chest. You were drooling... your eyes looked down to his white happy trail, a little unkempt, but you appreciated old beauty. His hand started to unlace the front of your dress, the way your tits popped out. Dante smirked, "Why will you put such a beautiful pair through such torture...?" you hummed, nuzzling the pillow as he massaged them, "to look good..."

Dante smirked, "They look much better in my hands..." Dante's hands trailed down to your waist as he peeled your dress off. He likes the view; you were in quite intricate and lacy lingerie. He laughed, "Were you out there looking to get laid? You just saw what you liked in the street and stopped me?" You just shrugged, "Maybe...."

Dante found you amusing; you were confident in an interesting way. You were not trying to control, yet you were controlling everything, and he was happy enough to play your game. He didn't know exactly why you stopped him. But he knew you were human.

Dante leaned back, standing between your legs hanging from the edge of the bed; he started to kiss your neck, pecking and then biting. You moaned and pulled his head back. You clicked your tongue, "Undressing a lady and remaining dressed? What I did to deserve that?"

Dante knew you were as aroused as him; he could smell it. But the way you were patient, it was like you had all the time in the world. He will make you beg for him. You will be impatient. Dante stood up, popping open the button of his black leather pants and pulling down his fly. He wasn't wearing any underwear. You just smirked; you should have expected that. He was big and messy, his hair at the base unkempt. He was hard, you were right. You never had anyone this big.

Your eyes met his icy blue ones, and you could see how badly he wants to bury himself deep in you. You sat up on the edge of the bed. His cock dripping pre-cum. You wrapped your soft fingers around his thick cock; Dante hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. You started to stroke him slowly; he panted. You cooed at him, "Such a big boy...stay still?" You looked up at him through your lashes, his handsome face teetering at the edge of bliss. You wanted to kiss that handsome face. How his brows were knitted, so cute. You kept stroking him softly from base to tip. Your tongue flicked out to lick his slit and pre-cum; you tasted him; he was good.

You smiled up at him, the tip of your tongue flicking at his slit to lap pre-cum; he was moaning, his large fingers threading your hair. You smiled and took him in. His tip hitting the back of your throat, you moaned as his cock vibrated in your mouth.

Dante praised, his fingers gripping the back of your wet, "Shit! Y/N, so warm and wet! Fuck! You're good!" You knew you were good as you hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your hand up and down to take him to the base. Your nose nuzzling in his pubic hair, he had a musky scent, and you were getting addicted to his taste.

Was he the person you saw in Victorian London? Who knows? For now, he was quite addictive, and you needed to get in his good graces to let him open up to you, right?

Sure, sucking his dick is the best way to hasten to it. Back to work in hand, your one hand held onto his muscular thighs to stabilise yourself; hell, they were thick, and you were already drooling with how much pre-cum he was producing. Now more so, it was heaven. Your hand slides from his base to his balls, fondling them, making him throw back his head with a loud moan, "Y/N, fuck! So good." His hip bucked involuntarily, hitting the back of your throat; you pulled back. His hand was trying to pull you back. You squeezed his balls a bit more. "Patience... handyman ...or should I say legendary demon hunter?" Dante smirked; he looked divine, his face was blessed out, he was panting, there was a pink tint on his cheeks and his trademark smile, "Same as you...babe!"

Your hands gathered your tits around his cock, surrounding them, and started to massage them. Your bra created a perfect net for him to stay in. Dante needed no clue; you both were wild enough. He started to thrust his cock in the little cock sleeve you prepared for him with your sweet tits. He grunts, "Fuck! Heaven! You're full of surprises, babe..."

His hands replaced yours to squeeze your tits together around his cock. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him into a hungry kiss, teeth clattering, tongue fighting for dominance and lips swollen...he never stopped thrusting in between your tits. His thrust now irregular and chasing his high. You looked up at him with soft eyes. He smiled down at you ...as he came all over your tits, neck and chin.

He pulled back a bit; he was still hard. He smiled down at you; you looked perfect like this, covered in his cum. He gripped your neck and travelled his hand up to cup your cheeks. You smiled at him, "Is that all you got?"

He growled and flipped you on your stomach; you moaned as his middle finger traced and prodded at your wet spot in your panties. One hand unclasped your bra and threw it away. He gripped your hip to pull you up in the air, his hand on the back of your head pushing your face into the mattress. Your hips try to buck to feel his cock, but he wasn't letting you get any. You whimpered a little annoyed, "Dante..."

Dante rubbed the back of your neck, his hand trailing down your spine, making every inch of your body burn. He spoke patiently, "Let me show you what I got..." His hand came down on your ass hard; it stung, and you yelped, "Ahaa!" Dante smirked; he got on his knee on the floor to smother his face in your panty-clad pussy, and he took a long sniff. He loved your scent. His sharp nose poking your sweet cunt. You moaned as he hooked a finger in your panties to push it aside and lick you slowly and shortly. It was like a kitten lick, your legs trembling...you cursed, "Fuck...!" You were flustered to your chest as he started to fuck your little hole with his tongue and alternated by licking broad stripes along your folds. You came on his tongue in no time.

Dante sucked on your puffy clit to draw your orgasm more; you were a whimpering and crying mess, "Dante...Dante...fuck...baby...you're so good..."

Dante stood up... Pulling down your panties to spank you more, you yelped again. He smirked; he loved the way you jolted.

He smiled, "Loving it, baby?" You nodded your head, "Yes, baby...use protection..." Dante nodded, "I intended to..."

Dante retrieved a condom from the pocket of his discarded coat. You smirked, looking back at him as he ripped the foil open and rolled it onto his cock. "You were prepared..." Dante smiled as he rubbed his cockhead slow and torturous to your entrance, "Well...when you're irresistible like me...you have to..."

You laughed but moaned as he filled you to the brim with no mercy. You were aware it might be a stretch and burn given how big he was, but fuck, he was splitting you open. Dante knew you could handle it; he gripped your hips, pulling back all the way out, just leaving his tip in and slamming back in with full force. You moaned loudly and drooled; he knew he had found your sweet spot, and he kept thrusting at the same pace, hitting the same right spot. You cried as Dante held both your wrists in one hand to arch your back, hitting deep and hard. He spoke, not even breaking a sweat. You couldn't see him, but you were sure he had that stupid grin on his face, "liking it rough, strong baby?"

You drooled, "Loving it...yes! Yes!" Dante knew you were close and slowed down...to tease you. You cried, and he set his pace back to fast again until you came all around him. Your body went limp; it was one of the best sex you had. You were satisfied, but...you felt him lifting your body up like a rag doll. He pressed your back to his chest, and he kissed your neck hard, making you cry. While one of his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you in place, his other hand was rubbing and circling your clit, two fingers parting your fold to sink you down his length, and you cried in pleasure as he used you like a rag doll, bouncing you on his cock... a pressure on your clit, and you came crashing again. You were so tired and overstimulated. You begged, "Fuck...it enough..."

Dante smirked as he deposited you on his bed and climbed over you. His hand fondling your tits, "Just one more, baby..."

You could barely protest, and he sank himself in again, pressing you into a mating press, your legs close to your tits and nails raking his back. He kept thrusting in, slow when you were close and fast when your orgasm was again building. You poor pussy was sore and abused; you were in heaven, drooling and fucked senseless. You cried, "Let me cum ...Dante." Dante kissed your lips as he buried himself deep rutting; your pussy clenched around him as you both came together.

You were limp in his sheets, your eyes shut. Dante withdrew himself, taking off the condom, tying it, and throwing it in the dustbin.

You were asleep; he didn't blame you. He maybe overdid it. He had sex again after years; he didn't mind if you stayed a bit long. He craved human warmth but thought himself too filthy to deserve it. Especially from someone as wonderful as you. But if you asked for it, he would make sure no one ever came close. He will ruin it for you forever; this is all he does, ruin everything for everybody.

Dante looked at you naked in his bed; you were soft and sweet. You tugged his heartstrings. He sat up to walk up to the bathroom and bring you a towel. He cleaned your chest and your legs and changed to the cleaned sheets. He didn't mind you staying; he was lonely after all.

Dante came downstairs to hop in for a quick shower. After a cold shower, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was ageing? Dante never knew how he would age. How much? Or how long he will live? He knew he was old. But given his quick healing and regeneration abilities, he cannot exactly slump into old age. No, even he was aware of this much biology. It needed his cell to stop dividing. But they divided and regenerated perfectly, given Vergil stabbed him just yesterday.

He remembers the little talk he and Vergil had in hell that Dante won't grow old or beyond a point. If his healing and regeneration abilities are uncompromised, he can't be old. Maybe it was just stress and depression which made Dante look older than Vergil.

Dante sighed. He changed into his Henley and sweatpants to walk out into his office. You were already on the red leather couch, wearing his t-shirt and with the pizza he ordered in your lap. You spoke with your mouth full, "Pizza again?"

He walked to you, leaned down and kissed your lips. "Yeah..." You smiled at him, "Remove your shirt..." Dante raised his eyebrow, "My! My! Demanding and hungry minx?" You smiled as he removed his shirt, and you stood up to check his back, no traces of your nails; you had just dug them in an hour ago in his back.

You sat back. Dante noticed the lack of hickeys and bite marks on your neck as well. You both looked at each other. You broke the silence, "How old are you?" Dante laughed, "Umm…let's see...near my mid-forties..." You frowned, "Be honest; I know you can heal...you don't have to hide it..."

Dante was confused. "Yeah...but I'm telling you the truth..." You spoke scoffing, "C'mon! I remember seeing you in London; it was the year 1875! My memory is clear as day!" Dante shouted; he was baffled, "What!? What are you talking about...1875!"

You nodded, "Yeah, you regenerate and heal just like me! That's why you cannot die! You're immortal, just like me!" Dante blinked. "Yeah...I do...but...I'm not like you! 1875! How old are you?"

You sank into the couch; you blew your cover, if you knew anything. It was how important it was to conceal...you blew your 2000-year-old perfect cover. Because you followed your heart, what an idiot! You looked at him, "I think I need my pills!" Dante looked at you unsure, "Pills…?" You laughed, "Yeah, pills, I have these episodes! You see, I have a medical condition...I will just take clothes and go!" You were making your way to the door, but Dante stopped you, holding your arm. "Okay, you can keep your clothes; just let me go."

By now, you can see all the Devil Arms this man has and his reputation. You were sure you were not a match for him. Of course, you won't go down without a fight. But such a man is someone you would rather not be enemies with.

Dante looked at you concerned, "You can tell me." His eyes were soft and deep, like he saw himself as a freak of nature, in the similar way you did. They were vulnerable. You let out a sigh and started, "It's a long story..."

It was morning, and Dante was beyond confused; there were so many stories, and you two were drinking. You were drunk and laughed, "Soo...the man I saw a century ago in London...." Dante nodded, "That's right, he was my father, Sparda..." You nodded in understanding, "Son of Sparda, I see...that's why sex was so good?" Dante laughed, sipping his whisky. "Hey...those were my skills; don't pull my father into this....ewww!" You laughed, "Ewww? Listen to this! I'm glad I didn't get laid with your father back then; it would have been awkward otherwise..."

Dante covered his ears, "No! No! No!" You laughed sipping your beer, you sighed and thought, "But your mother must be something...2000 years alone, and then she made sense to him..." Dante was serious now and nodded, "Yeah...she was pretty darn amazing..."

You looked at Dante with gleaming eyes, "You're amazing too..." Dante shook his head, "Not more than you, Miss 2K..." You laughed and swatted his arm, "That was so bad!" You both laughed. And now you were yearning to find what Sparda found.

With time, Dante and you paired on missions. You both can take as many hits and casualties. You both came to understand each other in ways. No one can...you can understand that Dante is immortal, just like you, unless he is killed through some extreme means. He isn't dying. If he can heal and regenerate. He isn't getting any older. Or so you wanted to believe.

No matter how deeply or conveniently you loved someone. There was always a pain in your heart, a sorrow that stayed.

If he was just like you, it removed so many issues you had; you were anyway falling for him more and more. He was too. You spoilt him rotten with gifts and paid bills; after all, you had all the money in the world.

You didn't know what to make of it. But Dante felt right; he felt perfect. Everything with him had so much potential. And for Dante, you were the biggest repellent to his biggest fear. You cannot die. No one can ever take you away from him, no matter how cursed he was.

It was a weird situation, a convenient arrangement which didn't need love, only companionship. But there was love, and being loved means being missed so terribly.

You were in bed with Dante, an opulent big bed with four posts and curtains draped; it felt like a room out of Versailles. Dante took his surroundings as you two were cuddling after sex and hummed, "Let them eat cake?" You laughed, "She wasn't the best or blameless, but she never said it..."

Dante was surprised. "So you were there?" You kissed his knuckles. "Yeah, but made it out of there in time... back to London."

Dante thought, "And where were you originally from?" You thought and shrugged, "I don't remember. I kept walking for the longest. I'm pretty sure after my first 'death', I was in Uruk... but where I was exactly born..." You shrugged... Dante nuzzled your shoulder and kissed your neck... "I see..."

Dante looked at the wall in front, a painting he couldn't recognise, but he was sure it was real and vintage. He spoke unsure, "I always thought... how my father walked upon this land for 2000 years...and now I met someone...who also did...what was it like?"

You thought, "You want to die for sure...like everyone else...but you also do not want to...it's weird, and then you just learn to pass by. After all...after so many years, nothing makes sense, and you understand nothing ever will. All those empires, people, and power, gone. Changed by something very similar...yet claiming to be different. It is just all a matter of ... time." You looked up at him with a smile and soft eyes.

Dante was looking around your duplex; he saw all the degrees on the wall… He thought, "Not much considering 2000 years." You laughed as you looked at those degrees as well, "Yeah...for the most part, I was a woman and not allowed in any universities, if that makes sense..." Dante nodded, "When you became a demon hunter?"

You kept looking at degrees, "Always was...just on the sidelines. Always the main business, but never the main business, if that makes sense..." Dante nodded, "It does..."

You walk down to the living room and think, your eyes looking at Dante, who was putting his guns back in his holster to leave. Your heart felt heavy, "Dante..."

He turned and looked at you, "Yeah?" You walked up to him and looked at his eyes. "I love you..." Dante was a little taken aback, not surprised but unsure. "I love you too, Y/N. But what does love even mean to you, though?" Dante always thought this, as he thought of all the lovers you had and what it amounted to. Maybe he was insecure or jealous, but in this life, he was never anything fully. He needed to be something.

You took a long sigh, holding both of his hands in yours. You looked into those icy blue eyes; you knew the answer, "Whatever it meant for your father to fall in love with your mother ...." Dante was quiet, so quiet, you weren't sure if you did the right thing. He just nodded; he had no doubt in his mind that his father loved his mother. He perished loving her.

You waited as Dante opened his mouth to speak but was quiet again. He thought, how did his mother knew if it was the right decision? Was there a right decision? Didn't she die? But he was sure she would do it again knowing she would die. So he took a chance too.

Dante kisses your lips. "Move in with me..." You kissed his back, "I will..."