#cure scarlet + reader

[baileypie-writes]

Hello! is it too late to submit a request? I keep forgetting to ask this one, but I was wondering if you could write about a platonic reader + Twilight from Princess Precure as the reader's wingman/wingwoman/wingbestie or something- ya know, just the reader being Twilight's bestie but also she's their wingbestie who sometimes calls her for silly stuff- I hope that makes sense and if it's too much to ask, I'm sorry! Also here's a Twilight photo so you don't gotta search for one!

I'm obsessed with her plz help lol /j

A/N ~ Sure! I unfortunately couldn’t save the image provided, but I was able to find another one, so it’s okay:) Also, I hope I used the “wingbestie” term correctly. I’m not too familiar with the term haha. Hope you enjoy!

~Wing-Bestie~

Twilight + GN!Villain!Reader

~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~

Fandom: Go! Princess Pretty Cure

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Gender neutral, a villain

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,422

Synopsis: Twilight was ordered by her mother not to leave the castle. Though, being a good friend, you helped her sneak out.

Warnings: Mention of the possibility of Dyspear destroying Reader, kind of abrupt ending

~Masterlists~

~Go! Princess Pretty Cure Masterlist~

~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~

As you wondered through the dark palace, your annoyance only became more definite. The one person you were looking for was nowhere to be found. In fact, it seemed as if the only times you couldn’t find her was when you actually needed her. Her mysteriousness could be highly inconvenient sometimes.

Though to your relief, the start of a somber, lonely violin solo began echoing throughout the halls. You followed the sound, almost as if the music notes created a physical trail for you to follow. Soon enough, the song led you to a large, open room. There, standing in the center, under a large crystal chandelier, was Twilight.

She continued playing, her bow moving in a perfect, natural fashion, almost as if the song was playing her. You knew she knew you were there. She always did. Though you didn’t mind being ignored. It was always a pleasure to hear her breathtaking violin skills.

After the song concluded, you gave her a round of applause. She lowered her bow, while keeping the instrument tucked under her chin. She gently lifted her dress a bit, giving a tiny curtsy. “What is it you need me for, (name)?” She asked after coming back up.

“Aw, c’mon Twi. Don’t you think it’s kinda rude to assume I only come to you when I need something?” You laughed, acting hurt.

“I’ve told you before to not call me that. If you wish to refer to me, use my full name.” She said, lowering her violin to rest at her side.

“We’re friends, aren’t we? A lot of friends have nicknames for each other. You can make up one for me!”

“I refuse. And again, call me ‘Twilight’.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” You slumped. But you knew she could’ve been meaner. Not too long ago, she completely denied the idea of being friends. So you at least had that.

“I still suspect that you need something from me. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll be going.” Twilight turned her back to you, preparing to leave the room.

“Okay, you got me.” You laughed. “I was wondering if you’d wanna come to summon a Zetsuborg with me?

She sighed. “I suppose. I will have to get my mother’s approval though.”

“Yay!” Your excitement was through the roof. Twilight usually didn’t agree to leave the castle with you. However, your victory was short lived.

“But Mother-“ Twilight said, but was cut off.

“No buts. I said I don’t want you going out today. Don’t make me say it again.” Dyspear said, her calm face contrasting with her chilling voice.

Twilight sighed. “Yes Mother. I’m sorry.” She then walked away, hiding her annoyance and disappointment. “Sorry (name). We can’t go.” She told you once she left the room.

“Aw darn. Why is she so controlling all the time?” You rolled your eyes.

“She’s just trying to protect me. Though I admit it can get overbearing at times.”

“Well…” You gave a mischievous look.

“What are you planning?” Twilight said, already sensing a bad idea.

“I could sneak you out.” You offered.

“No way. My mother would know.”

“Not if we’re careful! And we won’t be gone long!” You pleaded.

Twilight crossed her arms in thought. Her eyes closed her a few moments, and then she sighed. “Alright. But if we get in trouble-“

“-all the blame will go to me!” You finished the sentence for her.

She cracked a small smile, and you swore you heard a chuckle. “Well then, shall we go?”

You nodded, then snapped your fingers, summoning a keyhole shaped portal. You looked to your left, then your right, before taking her hand. “Okay, quickly!” You then both jumped into the portal.

When you reached the other side, you were on the rooftop of Noble Academy, the Pretty Cure’s school. You immediately began scanning the area below you, looking for a victim.

As if she read your mind, Twilight began looking as well. It didn’t take long before she pointed to a girl next to a flower bed. “How about her?”

“She looks interesting! Thanks Twi!” You said. Twilight simply rolled her eyes at hearing her disliked nickname.

With a snap of your fingers, you teleported a few feet above the girl. “Hey! Lemme see that dream of yours!” You demanded.

“Huh? Who are you?” The girl asked. But no answer was given. You took a glimpse inside the girl’s dream. She held up a unique looking flower, while everyone around her cheered. The words “I wanna breed a new type of flower!” echoed in the picture.

“Huh, what an interesting dream. Too bad it’s mine now.” You said in a teasing tone. “Go forth, Zetsuborg!” You commanded. A lock wrapped around the dream, and took the form of a giant, thorny flower. The girl was then put in a cage that suspended in the air. “Go on, Zetsuborg! Have some fun!” You told it. It did as it was told, firing giant thorns from its body. All the nearby students began screaming and running away. With a chuckle, you turned to Twilight. “And now, we wait.”

“Do you think you’ll defeat the Pretty Cure this time?” She asked.

“Eh, not sure. But I don’t really care about that right now. I’m more in it for the fun!”

She simply hummed, and continued watching the chaos unfold.

~~~~

Unfortunately, your fun didn’t last long. The Princess Pretty Cure defeated your Zetsuborg in no time, freeing the dream from your grasp. “Darn. Oh well.” You shrugged. “C’mon Twi, let’s-“ A sudden voice in your head interrupted your sentence.

“(name), Twilight, see me immediately.”

It was Dyspear. And from the town of her voice, she was not happy.

“Mother…” Twilight whispered to herself, implying that she heard it too.

“Hey, it’s okay! Remember, I’m taking all the blame!” You placed a hand on her shoulder as an attempt to comfort her. Though, she didn’t seem convinced.

A portal sent the two of you back to the castle in no time. As expected, you could tell Dyspear was furious, even though her face appeared neutral. “Twilight, I believe I told you that you were not to leave the castle today.” Her voice was eerily calm.

“I know mother, but-“ Twilight began, though you cut her off.

“Dyspear, if I may. I was the one who took her out. I wanted to summon a Zetsuborg, and thought it would be good for her if she watched. Y’know, to get some experience. It was truly my fault. I’m very sorry.” You got on your knees, bowing lowly.

Dyspear hummed, and tapped her fingernail on the armrest of her throne. “Whether your intentions were good or not, you convinced my daughter to disobey my orders. And on top of that, you failed to defeat the Pretty Cure. So I’m sure you’re prepared for a punishment.”

“Yes, your majesty.” You remained bowing.

~~~~

Your punishment was surprisingly not too harsh. You were simply temporarily banned from going out and creating Zetsuborgs. You were also not allowed to be around Twilight for a while.

You were simply amazed that your life was spared. Though, you knew that Twilight most likely had something to do with it. And for that, you were eternally grateful.

A knock came from your bedroom door, so you went to see who it was. A piece of paper was slipped under it, so you picked it up. It was a note.

“Dear (name),

I’d like to sincerely thank you for taking all the blame. It was very kind of you. In return, I had convinced my mother to spare you.

You’re surprisingly enjoyable to be around, so I figured keeping you around would be better than having you destroyed.

I await for more of your ideas after your punishment has ended.

~ Your friend, Twi”

You were ecstatic at her note. Not only did she admit to being your friend, but she used her nickname! You hastily looked around for a piece of paper, eager to write her back.

“Dear Twi,

Thanks for getting me out of trouble! I guess we’re even now!

But I’ll still always be there for you. I’m your wing person and best friend. Your ‘wing-bestie”!

~ (name)”

You slid the note under your door, and eagerly waited. The clicks of heels signaled that Twilight was there again, and just a few moments later, another paper was given to you.

“Dear (name),

I appreciate your loyalty.

But please don’t use the term ‘wing-bestie’ ever again.

~ Twi”

~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~🎻~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[ddarker-dreams]

sr reader and some miscellaneous dumb stuff

just wanted to draw her again😭

[makeyoumine69]

Being Bateman’s Soulmate | HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: Romance & Angst; Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: The Cure — Lovesong; A/N: This is dedicated to everyone who is madly in love with their fictional crush! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

— “Soulmate? What the fuck does that word even mean?” Bateman would say the first time you mentioned it. His reaction would amuse you at first, although you knew that Patrick would understand its meaning in time, and that feeling when you could touch another person's soul as if it were material. The feeling of wanting to scream because you were so in love that you couldn't even believe it was possible to have such feelings. All of this would eventually overwhelm him, and then he'd never want it to end.

— "You think I have a soul, huh?" He would smile whenever you had sentimental conversations, and even though Bateman kept repeating that he didn't like them, you would sometimes see him sitting alone, thinking about his life before he met you. Did you make his life better? Well, was it even possible to judge such things? Since nothing in this world could be black or white, it was always gray.  But with you, his life was painted in new colors.

— “I remember you telling me that your favorite color was red.” Red like the blood that spilled on his perfect sheets whenever he treated you too rough, but you never asked him to stop. Sometimes those little scarlet spots on the white sheets could look like petals from the red roses Bateman used to give you, even though he knew how clichéd that was. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" The man would ask, tracing his long finger over the red marks on your hip.  Sighing, you would roll onto your stomach and give him your most devoted look. "Because I like it," and that was all he needed to hear from you. "I'd tell you if I didn't." Having said that, you would sit up to find his lips and kiss him, slowly but eagerly, transmitting all the love and emotion you had for him through that kiss.

— "If you say you love me, why does it hurt so much?" He would ask you this question over and over again after he had a breakdown because he was so overwhelmed by everything you were giving him: your care, your affection, your understanding, and your support. Eventually, it all became too much for him, and when Patrick realized that he was probably in love with you, a sharp pain coursed through the very small pitch of his body like an electric impulse. He loved you so much it hurt.

— One night, you were sitting in the living room in Bateman’s slick apartment and watching some classic romantic comedy from the 1930s, the scenes from it made you think about something you never expected you would. "Patrick, have you ever thought about death?" You asked suddenly, holding his hand and noticing how tense he became. "I mean... I'm afraid of death because I don't want to be without you, if that makes any sense." At first, Patrick just laughed and gently moved closer to you, hugging your shoulders possessively. "Can you promise me that... if there is an afterlife, you will find me there?" Nearly sobbing, you looked into his dark, brown eyes, at the way his eyebrows furrowed as the man considered his answer. "And we will be together even after death?" Your voice cracked at the weight of your words, never before had you dared to speak of such things.

— The question of death, an abstract yet intimately familiar topic, drew a thoughtful arch to his brow. Death was not a stranger to him, nor was it an adversary he feared-not in the way that the average person might. "Death," Patrick began, his voice tinged with a cold amusement that belied the gravity of the subject. "It's the only certainty in life, isn't it? A final transaction, one we all must make." His arm tightened around you, a gesture that feigned warmth but held an undercurrent of something sharper. Bateman met your gaze, the hazel of his eyes unreadable yet intense, reflecting the black-and-white dance of images on the screen. "If there is an afterlife," he continued, weighing each word like a coin on a scale, "I'll find you. But let's not be so morose, darling." The man leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his breath a whisper that carried the scent of the red wine you had shared earlier. "Life is for the living, and I intend to savor every moment I have with you. Making promises about the afterlife is... morbidly romantic, but unnecessary. I have you now, and you have me. Isn't that enough?"

— And that was even more than enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[dahliamalfoy97]

INITIATION - Muzan x y/n reader

Muzan x y/n reader smut one shot

Synopsis: Y/N has woken up and has no memory of who she is. Muzan is there to remind her.

Warning: SMUT 18+!!, MDNI, rough sex, oral, monster kink, size kink, masochism, degradation kink, praise kink. Slapping, choking, tentacles, Kidnapping, detailed murder, blood, slight dub con, kidnapping, a little manipulative, penetration, anal sex, double penetration, gagging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie. Just so much filthy things because Muzan is a sick motherfucker so this one shot is probably just as twisted so proceed with caution!

word count: 4k+

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you feel is utter confusion. For you have no memory of where you were or who you were. Your mind was completely blank and you no memory of anything. The next thing you notice is, you're lying down on what seems to be a table.

The first thing that you see, is a pair of scarlet red eyes boring in your eyes. They were so bright and unnerving at the same time. As the source of these eyes came into focus, you could see he was a man, with inky, curly, black hair, which was tied back into a pony tail and had pale skin. He wore a black dress button down shirt with a white tie. He was striking.

"Oh good," the man speaks content tone, as he notices that you're finally awake. "You're finally awake."

"W-who who are you? And where am I?" You ask, in a voice so soft, you weren't sure if he heard you cause you could barely hear yourself.

"My name is Muzan and you are in my home," he replies cryptically. "This is the Infinity Castle."

His name and the place sounded familiar but nothing came to mind as to why.

"And why am I here?"

He just smiles, and there's something about it that makes your skin tingle. You weren't sure if it was out of fear or something else.

"You are here because I found you on the brink of death, you were on the street and you needed a home."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion , "But how come I don't remember anything? I don't even know my name."

"That's because I turned you into a demon, and sometimes the process can erase all traces of your past life. Call it a new slate if you will," he reaches for what looks like a vial of red liquid from a shelf and shakes it. "Here drink this, this will cure the sudden hunger you're feeling."

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles, "w- what, did you say demon? Demons exist?" You ask in wonder. "So is that blood in that vial?"

That grin turns prideful, "we exist and we are the most powerful beings to walk this planet. And yes this is blood, because this is what helps you stay strong and the more you consume the more powerful you'll become. But only human blood works. Animal blood cannot keep you healthy."

An unsettling feeling settles in your stomach, "so I have to kill in order to survive?"

"Only if you choose to go through this transformation, if you don't I'll have to kill you as I won't have any use for you otherwise."

this man was much more sinister and cunning than he appeared. You're sure a normal human would have been afraid or dying to get out of this situation. But you were intrigued. Despite the fact that he was probably a terrible man and a murderer- you were fascinated by him. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you from whatever life you had lived before.

"So why did you choose me to turn into a demon?"

"Because I saw something in you that seemed valuable to have," he replies. "Would you like to know of your past? I can show you."

"Sure."

"Drink this," he holds me a vial of clear liquid.

You take it, study it before gulping it down in one go.

At first nothing happens, but suddenly your eyes drift shut and images begin flying through your mind.

Images of your parents and them dying, you being taken in by a man. A man that had looked kind by the smile he wore and the warmth of his hands.  But that smile had been a mask for the monster he really was. And those hands ended up being the source of all your nightmares as he did things to you that you didn't dare think about. Finally, the vision ended with your hands covered in blood, as he lay in a pool of blood, lifeless. You dropped the knife and ran.

You had vowed to had never trust a man with a smile or warm hands again.

"She's a murderer!" An onlooker had shouted.

"a monster!" Another had yelled.

But you had ignored them, walking by all of them in silence.

Eventually night had come and the streets had died down, all the people had gone to their homes and you were left alone on the streets in the dark of night. After what you had done. Nobody would take you in. Nobody wanted a murderer.

You held the knife that you had killed your captor to your neck. All this pain would end if you ended it here. But wait. Why did you have to stop living? Why give up your life ? They're the ones who deserved to die. They all ruined your life.

The first house you had reached was a family you knew well. They were the ones responsible for your torment. It made you sick how they could live happily and comfortably after condemning you to a life of hell.

You didn't waste a second as you slit their throats in the dead of night. And the second time in your life, you felt powerful. For you finally had control of your own life.

You didn't stop at the one house. You went to 12 more. Murdering those who had mocked and tortured you.  The ones that had stood while your captor had abused and violated you and did nothing to stop him. They all just stood by and watched and then had the audacity to point fingers at you. To call you the monster.

At the 13th one, you found someone had already beaten you to it. You saw him devouring the arm of the man. Part of you was disgusted. But part of you was relieved. The being turned to you after finishing his meal.

"Thought I'd help you out," the man said. This was him. This was Muzan.

"Are you one of those demons? The ones I've heard about?"

"I'm not just any one of those demons. I am the Demon King and I've come to recruit you into my Army. Make you become one of us."

"And why would I trust you?" You ask.

"You don't have to trust me or anyone, just help me rid of the world of people like them," he nods to the ground, his eyes burn with hatred.

"What do I have to do?"

He holds out a hand, "come with me".

You study it warily, "just as long as you let me do whatever I want. I want full control of my life and who I'll get to kill and-"

"There's certain humans I'll task you to kill, but as long as you follow my orders and remain useful, freedom is yours."

You look into his eyes and see a shared look of hate and anger, that's all you needed before taking his hand."

You come back from the vision, who you are and what you how you had gotten here- was suddenly clear. You grab the vial of blood from his hands. He smirks in amusement as you drink it without hesitation.

"Good girl."

That phrase alone has you locking eyes with his and something in you awakens in those scarlet orbs.

"What else do I need to do to be one of you."

Something akin to relief flashes in those cold scarlet eyes, a smirk graces those devilish lips.

He turns a finger down your collarbone that's exposed from the flimsy gown you wore. A shiver ignites from his touch. For a demon's usually cold touch. His was scorching and setting you ablaze.

"First, pledge your life and your soul to me?" His hand comes back up to your face, brushing along your lower lip, causing you to suck in a breath.

"What do I need to do?" You swallow thickly. You said you'd never trust a man again. But this here was no man, he was a devil. A sensible person would run away. But you - you felt the desire to follow him anywhere. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you. Or that he a really good manipulation tactics and that he just wanted to use you. But you found yourself wanting to be used.

"Let me show you," is all he says.

In a blur, your clothes are ripped off of your body. Leaving every bit of you exposed. Something in the devil's eyes made your nipples harden and yours thighs clenched. Maybe it was the fact that he was completely dressed and you were completely naked. Or he was the Demon King and you were completely and utterly defenseless about what he was about to do.

He leans over you and begins running a hand down your chest, brushing along your tits in a teasing manner down to the apex of your thighs. Every where his hand touched, a trail of electricity was left it in it's wake. Heightening all of your senses.

"Gotta make sure you're in pristine condition, and that you're exactly what I need," with his veiny large hands he forces your legs apart. His thumb grazing your clit, lightly. Which was already throbbing and aching with need. "That fucker that violated you, how did you kill him?"

You inhale a strained breath, before exhaling, the slightest of his touch was enough to have you needy for more. "I cut off his dick and shoved it up his ass, before slitting his throat."

His gaze never leaves your as his thumb begins to rub your sensitive bud with his thumb, "and did you enjoy it?"

You smirk, "I did."

He hummed, "good. I'm going to erase every memory of his touch from your skin and replace it with mine. From here on out, you will belong to me. Understood?"

You nod your head eagerly, "Yes, Master."

His teasing touch on your clit speeds up, "your pussy is already mine. Look at how quick it responds to me and I've barely done a thing to it."

"Please do whatever you'd like, Master. I want to exceed your expectations."

Without needing any further permission, he sinks in a finger, you let out a moan and he lets out a growl. You had never been touched like this. So the touch was foreign odd at first, but when he began to prod his finger between your tight walls, the more adjusted you became.

"Fuck, Dollface, you are tight as fuck," he closes his eyes as if to revel in the feeling of you around his finger, and when he opens eyes again, the red in his irises has been blown away by his black pupils, stealing your breath away. You cry out when he adds a second finger, scissoring open even wider. Not long after, he's got your pussy wrapped around his three fingers. They slam into with a wicked force. Your juices are soaking his fingers in seconds, but he doesn't stop his attack. His grin becomes feral. "You just came from that alone ? Fuck, you are a real gem."

You arch and quiver as he continues to jab his long fingers in and out of you. Any logical thoughts are forgotten as his mouth finally adds to the fray. Sucking your clit and biting it with his teeth, you shamelessly grind yourself on his tongue as he ravishes you thoroughly.

"F-f-fuck," you whimper, "Muzan, don't stop." Tears escaped your eyes, and you pressed grabbed his head and pushed in closer into you, wanting him as deep as he could go. You moaned at how soft and silky his hair felt in your hands. It was so soft compared to this beast of a man. You were so overcome with overwhelming pleasure, it was hard for you to think straight. The only thing that you know for sure, was that you wanted more.

"How could I when you taste so goddamn sweet, so much better than any of the humans I've devoured, baby, you are my own five course meal. So fucking delicious."

His words are so filthy, the way he continues you to wreck you with his mouth has your stomach turning in knots. And white hot pleasure takes over. You watch in amazement as your arousal sprays his face, yet he gleams in pure delight.

He detaches his mouth from your pussy and stands up, grabs you from your neck and pulls you in for a hot and hungry kiss. His lips are demanding and possessive of yours- there's no question for who's in control. He dominates you in seconds and you submit without hesitation. It was almost scary with how you vowed to never trust a man or let one ever control you again, yet you were throwing all that away for the Demon King himself. But you didn't care anymore. You wanted to submit to him in any and every way. Call you insane or call you weak, but you knew the minute you saw him that first night, you were already gone.

You yank him closer to you, tearing his shirt off, your newly awakened demon powers must include sharp claws, because you rake your nails down his back causing him to moan. And it makes you feral as he moans because of you. You grow more feral with that knowledge.

"You are perfect for me, Angel," he praises against your lips. His mouth leaves yours and begins leaving kisses along your neck, alternating between kisses and bites, which would leave a purplish hue when he was done. You grind yourself on him even harder. You reach down and rub his clothed cock.

"Please Muzan," you beg, "I need you."

He drops you onto the ground, "so needy for me, but I need to finish examining you first. And if you pass this test, I'll reward you. Now kneel like the perfect whore you are and open your mouth."

You instantly do what he says, you kneel on the hard floor and open your mouth. He finishes stripping out of his clothes. Your mouth waters in awe. For he was breathtaking. So beautifully chiseled in every way. There was no flaw. He was pure muscle and sinewy. His cock stood proud and tall against his abdomen. It was massive, girthy and long, with a slight curve. He was demon but he was built as a god. No- he was a god.

He closes the distance between you, stroking his cock in his hand. He rubs the crown along your lips, before pressing his head past your lips. His precum coating your tongue.

"Suck," he commands and you do, you suck on his tip slowly, unsure of what to do. You begin to swirl your tongue around his head and the underside. You tentatively lick a stripe down his shaft. Soon, he loses patience and thrusts the whole length into your mouth in one go. If you had still been a human, your mouth would have been torn to shreds but your demon mouth gave you better strength to handle the harsh action. Your throat was forced open wide as he slammed into your mouth. Spit and precum drooling out of your mouth. You try your best to hollow your cheeks you can take him in better. But he gives you barely anytime to adjust and uses your mouth as he pleases. He grabs your hair and pulls out of the way, making it easier for you to take him. He forces you down on his cock, causing you to choke slightly.

"What a perfect cocksleeve for my cock," he laughs darkly, "so fucking perfect," his laughs turns to grunts as his thrusts get more harsher. You sob around his cock in pleasure. His hips begins to stutter, his cock begins pulsing in your mouth. It becomes heavier and you feel something hot and salty shooting down your throat.

Before you can take a breath, he's picking you up and throwing you onto the table. Your back hits the table harshly and you yelp. He yanks you towards him, spreading your legs apart. He runs the length along my aching, in slow, tortuous strokes. Making you whine.

"You did so well, you've passed all of my expectations so far. Now I need to you beg for me."

"Please, Muzan."

He growls, "please what?"

"I- y-your-"

He slaps your clit and you scream, "use your fucking words!"

"Please, Master," you beg. "Fuck me. Please."

He chuckles, "now there's a good little slut."

Finally, he's aligning his tip with your entrance. He slowly pushes the tip in. You can't keep your eyes away from the sight of him entering you. You feel every vein and every crevice as he pushes past your slick walls. The stretch burned and you struggled to accommodate his size. You instinctively clamp around him.

"If you fucking do that, I'm going to cum before I can even start. So relax," he demands, softly rubbing your tummy with his hands.

You take a deep breath and feel yourself relax. Soon he's all the way in and you moan at how full you are of him, at how much he stretched you out by just settling inside you.

He pulls out before slamming right back in. He grips your hips tightly as he begins ramming into you at full speed. The sudden action, causing you grip onto his shoulders for purchase. Creaking sounds and slaps of skin, fill the room as you get fucked by the Demon King. Every inch of his cock plunging into you deeper and deeper with each thrust, and it's not long before he finds the spot that once he hits it you turn into mush. Completely in a state of bliss as he abuses the spot over and over.

"More more more," you chant.

"Look at you so compliant and submissive for my cock," his growls. His red eyes flashing bright with contempt. "I knew when I saw you, you'd be a perfect fit for me and my cock. That's the main reason I recruited you. Was to have your pussy as my personal fuck toy."

You're so out of it. Every thrust and every inch of his cock scraping your walls is paradise. You didn't want him to stop. Suddenly the table breaks, but he catches you at inhuman speed before you can fall. You wrap your legs around his middle, as thrusts up into you, this new position made it hard to tell where he ended and where you begin. His chest was against yours, he took your one of your tits in your mouth and began sucking on it, causing you to arch your back. You grip his hair and drag your nails down his back. He seemed to be able to reach new places from this angle and you could feel the wave building up inside you and you shuddered as you clamped down around his throbbing cock. The coil in your stomach as it snaps and you can feel yourself coming undone.

“Fuck,” you sob in pure bliss from your high.

“You make such a pretty mess around my cock,” he cooes, he grips his hands around your neck. Not relenting from his consistent assault. He squeezes and instantly cum again from just the way he seemed to cut off air making you senses even more overwhelmed. “Like the pretty little slut you are, designed to take my cock like champ. Like that’s your only purpose in life is to satisfy my needs.”

Not long after you feel him growing within you, his thrusts become a little more erratic, but they still powerful to make you shake. He lets out a roar as hot white ropes of cum shoot into you. Your cunt flutters around him, hungry for every drop.

“Yess, my perfect little cum dump,” he slowly pulls out groaning at the sight of the white liquid oozing out of you. He gathers it in his fingers and pushes it all back into you, a hoarse cry escaping your lips. Because you were so sensitive. “But I’m not done with you yet.“ He picks you up and carries you to another table. He manhandles you so you’re flipped onto your stomach and your legs are hanging over the edge. He grabs some restraints and takes your wrists and binds then behind your back. Something covers you eyes taking away your eyesight. He was rendering you completely useless for whatever he had planned next and you could do nothing but take it. All of your senses were being limited and heightened at the same.

You could feel his hands grabbing your waist, pulling your ass to rub against his cock which was still rock hard. Your pussy lips are being pulled and pinched by his fingers. you feel sharp sting on your sensitive clit causing you to jolt at the sudden force.

“Such a pretty little pussy,”is all he says before slapping it again, then without warning,his cock is spears into you again. He feels even bigger than before, as your pussy struggles to take him. You have nothing to grip onto just your front being pressed into the table and his hands on your hips to anchor you as he plows into full force once again. Suddenly you feel something on your leg, it feels wet and hard. It creeped along your thigh. Another thing like it wraps around your other leg, stretching you out even further. Something prods against your other entrance, your ring of muscle is being prodded by it. Something like a tongue flicks against it but that’s impossible because Muzan is still fûcking you with his cock. It pushes past your ring of muscle, a new burning stretch takes over and your tight hole is being stretched by whatever this thing was. It didn’t matter what was teasing to your little hole you were spasming around his cock. You shake and fall apart at the overstimulation.

And it seemed Muzan was getting off of it because he was laughing and praising you.“ now you really look like a fuck doll, a perfect little toy for me to fuck. You should see yourself,” Suddenly your blindfold is being ripped off, while still being pounding into. Your head is being forced by something wrapping around it. It’s the same wet thing that is wrapped around your leg and attacking and fucking your asshole at the same time. Everything was too much. You had no sense of time or anything. You couldn’t tell if what too were seeing was real. But tentacles seemed to wrap around your throat and leg. Another one is pounding into your hole, while being split by Muzan’s cock which looked bigger. His hair was now a snowy white and fell into waves to his shoulders. His chest was the same but ribbons of red laced around his arms, mouths with sharp teeth dotted his skin in strange places and tentacles sprouted from his back.

“This is my true demon form, are you scared little one?”

But before you can speak, tentacles are being shoved into your mouth. Rendering you speechless, as you gagged around them. Saliva drooled down from your mouth and your eyes watered everything was too much. You were in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your body was not yours anymore. It was his. His plaything, his experiment. You should have been begging for him to stop. Begging for him to let you breath and trying to escape this beast. But you could only feel yourself getting more nd more turned on.

“What was that?” He taunts, “I can’t hear you.”

You babble or try to around his appendage, it leaves your throat for a moment, “no,” your voice is barely a sound, “I am not scared of you, I want more,” you wheeze out.

His eyes widen in shock for a moment, before darkening and sick, twisted grin takes over his features, “you should be. You should be trembling under my feet. I don’t think you understand the power I have over your now. For this body no longer belongs to you. It belongs to me and I’ll use it whenever please. Every vein, every moan, every curve and hole of your body, is MINE. Your only use to me is that of a perfect little fuckdoll for me to bend and break however I please. To use whenever and however please. You only exist to only please me. Understand?”

“Yes!” You scream, you’re a sobbing, trembling mess. “Please use me whenever and however you want.”

Your mind is broken, your body is spasming out of control. You are completely lost but yet your are mended by this devil.

“I’m yours, Master.”

“That’s right whore,” he seethes, “YOU. ARE. FUCKING. MINE!”

You cry in pure ecstasy, everything after that becomes a blur. All that you can understand is that his cock and appendage are pounding into both of your holes. You’re being split apart. Every inch of you is on fire. His claws rip into your skin at your hips, blood sprays out. But you keep taking it. You reveled in the pain. It made you feel alive. And if you were human, you’d be long dead but as a demon you could take any of it and you loved it. You loved how brutal and twisted this was. His tentacles wrap around your throat once more. Fingers forcing their way down your throat. You gag and choke from being denied of air and all sanity. He pulls his fingers out and smears saliva on your face.

He roars in delight, “what a filthy little bitch. You’re still so willing to take everything I give you. I love it. You are so fucking perfect for me.”

Suddenly one of his mouths latch onto both nipples your clit at the same time as if every inch of your soul ls being sucked out of you. You lose all feeling in your body. It writhes and falls apart over and over. You lose count of on how many times you cum in those minutes or how many positions he changes to wreck you in. You just take it. Your mindset slipping further and further away from any sanity or clarity. You were only aware of him and inch of you he broke and mended over and over again.

Finally, what seems like eternity, he’s shooting into you again, until you’re completely filled and covered in his cum. “You look so perfect covered and filled with my cum.”

He pulls out. All appendages and mouths detach from you and you’re falling into a heap but he holds on you. Not caring if you’re completely drenched in cum. You’re completely fucked and incoherent but his soft kisses bring you back slowly.

“So did I pass your initiation and requirements?” You ask sleepily. He chuckles.

“You met every single one of them and more. You’re nothing but perfect for me and I want you more than just my recruit. I want you as a my queen and you are perfect for that role. It’s why I was watching you for all these years waiting for the perfect time to claim you.”

“How long have you been watching me?”

He grins, “that night, when you murdered that monster, the both of you were supposed to be my victims. But you surprised me with how brutal you were. How cold and relentless you became and from then on, I knew I needed to have you.”

You’re at a loss for words, his scarlet eyes bore into yours with something like adoration and love. But that’s impossible because he’s a demon you’re sure he can’t really feel any of that.

“Well thank you for saving me,” you say, reaching up to pull his face down to yours. You claim his lips in a needy kiss. He hums in content. “I would love to be your Queen. I am yours, forever.”

“Yes, mine.”

[theflowerrooms]

To Request • Miguel’s Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Running Red

Miguel O’Hara x spider-person!reader (gender neutral)

Summary; Miguel was a fair leader and a fair lover, never did he blend the two titles, never had he taken his anger from work on you, until now.

wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, arguing, Miguel is a bit aggressive, insults, hurt/comfort, very slight ATSV spoilers

Miguel had three different modes. The silent, brooding kind, seemingly displeased at all moments. That was his default mode, the one most everyone saw, the one most often associated with his name. And then there was his stressed mode, where he would rant, and rant. A loud string of blurred Spanglish that was intelligible to anyone but himself as he paced back and forth anxiously. That wasn’t seen by too many, mostly yourself, Jess and sometimes Peter. Finally, there was the gentle touches that would lead to more, soft smiles and sweet words. Intimate kisses, goosebumps, and whispered ‘I love you’s’. That was reserved for you

This was new, whatever this was. Silent for a while, and then loud venting, eyes glowing scarlet, slight lisping because he was so angry he couldn’t retract his fangs. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand, he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. But then again, that wasn’t something you could ever fully understand. You’d been by Miguel’s side for nearly all of it, but you’d never been in his place.

“Miguel, baby, please try to calm down-” “No!” He snapped loudly, cutting you off faster than you could process it. That only made it worse. Miguel was a pessimist, and you were a mediator. You’d defended Gwen- and Miles, every chance you could. You didn’t think they were entirely in the wrong.

You reached a hand out to him and he only jerked away from it, that felt like a blow to the chest. He was acting like you were against him, like you were the opposing force and you weren’t, it was stressing you out.

You sighed and chewed your lip. “None of this is Gwen’s fault, you know this.” You pulled your arms closer to body, making yourself seem smaller, but still not backing down from the conversation-turned-argument.

He dragged a palm down his face and turned slightly to look away from you. “I was an idiot. I took a chance on her. I was an idiot for taking a chance on her.” He growled, fingers twitching at his sides.

“You took a chance on all of us- You took a chance on me-” your voice shook slightly and he cut you off quickly. “I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.” He spat, voice laced with venom and resentment.

Your arms dropped to your sides and your lip wobbled. You wanted to yell and fight, you wanted to be angry. But you were only sad, hurt, more insecure than you’d ever been in front of Miguel.

The features of his face, aged with stress, softened just slightly, his tense shoulders sloped as he realized what he’d said, how it affected you.

The image of your partner in front of you blurred as your eyes welled with tears. He had yet to say anything else and you weren’t going to stand there and wait, so you turned on your heel. You wouldn’t let him see you cry.

He watched you walk away and you could feel his eyes on your back. Part of you was grateful he didn’t put up a fight against you walking away but a bigger part of you wished he’d apologized immediately, or begged you to stay there with him and explain that he didn’t really think you’re stupid. He watched you walk away instead. Did he really think you were stupid?

✽-

You had no interest in staying in his universe, and your own universe wasn’t quite an option. That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor of Mayday’s nursery in Peter’s world. She squished her little head against yours, wild hair tickling your cheeks which were soft from crying. ‘Baby-love. Cures all types of sad.’ Peter had said. You had to admit he wasn’t all that wrong.

“Do you feel like talkin’ yet? Or…” Peter offered, leaning against the doorframe with two cups of coffee in his hands.

You smiled weakly. “Thank you for letting me borrow your baby.” You squeezed Mayday in a gentle hug. He took it as permission to hand you a coffee and sit on the floor with you, which you were entirely fine with.

It was quiet for a bit. You sipped your coffee and pulled your knees to your chest as Peter’s baby clumsily made her way over to him. He stared at you, his eyes kind and inviting. “Peter we’ve known each other for a good while, worked together a ton. Have you ever thought of me as stupid?” Your voice wavered toward the end of the question.

Peter tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that? It’s been an honour to fight alongside you. You’re so intelligent, you’re a wonderful teammate and a wonderful person. You’re far from stupid. I mean- Obviously. Miguel wouldn’t give you that much responsibility if he thought you were stupid.” He laughed softly, but the mood shifted and his demanour had entirely changed. He must've sense of change in your expression when he said Miguel's name. "Did Miguel say something to make you think that? Did he call you stupid?" He looked mad, and although it rose your anxiety, you knew none of it was directed at you.

“He said he wouldn’t have taken a chance on me if he’d known I turned out this way. ‘So stupid’ he said. I’m not sure if he meant taking a chance on me was stupid or I’m stupid but-”

“Either way.” Peter cut you off, finishing your sentence. He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have said that, Miguel doesn’t think you’re stupid.” He scoffed and you only shrugged. “Don’t let what he said make you think that. He doesn’t think you’re stupid- and even if he does, you aren’t. Understand?” He rose his eyebrows and you nodded with a sympathetic smile. While you loved Peter, and valued his opinion, you weren’t worried about what he thought right now. Miguel’s words were replaying in your head.

‘I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

✽-

You’d spend the night at Peter and MJ’s that night, in their world. Alone in their guest bed rather than wrapped safely in Miguel’s arms like you were used to.

You were mostly over it now, having gone over everything in your head again and again, with each word Miguel said repeating in your mind. You’d mentally given him a million excuses, just desperate to be over it so you could forgive him and then everything would be fine.

Of course you had yet to forgive him, and nothing was fine. You weren’t sure if you could sleep in a bed so cold and lonely.

“Amor?” Miguel’s voice startled you and you scrambled, sitting up in the bed. You hadn’t heard or sensed him anywhere nearby. Did Peter let him in? “Can we talk? Please?” He spoke monotone, straight faced. This was the cold, emotionless Miguel that others were used to seeing. For a moment you worried he was still angry with you, that this front was to hide emotions he was feeling because he was about to break up with you- for being so stupid. Though, would he have addressed you that way if that was the case?

You nodded and chewed your lip. “We can talk.” You wanted to return the straight, monotone voice he'd given you, but you stumbled over your words. You wondered if your eyes were still puffy from crying- and that's when you noticed his were too. He’d clearly been crying. You’d never seen Miguel cry before, you were witnessing entirely new parts of him today.

He sat on the side of the bed and rested a large palm on your shin through the blanket. “I am so- I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry. I do not think you’re stupid.” He kept eye contact with you. It was important to him that you understood how serious this was to him. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m so grateful to have you by my side- and I- you’re not stupid-”

“Miguel- I’m not mad at you, you have so much on your plate, it’s okay-”

“It is not. I should not have said that to you- I didn’t mean to say it like that. I don’t think you’re stupid, I think I have been stupid, I could have prevented all this and I didn’t.” His voice shook. He was showing you insecurity and vulnerability; two things he’d made you feel already. You appreciated what he was doing for you right now and you understood how hard it was for Miguel to give himself to you like this.

You moved to your knees and took his face in your hands, smoothing your thumb over the worry lines between his eyebrows. “It’s not your job to save the world Miguel. I think it’s incredible that you’ve made it your job, but still it doesn’t have to be. You haven’t done anything wrong, and you haven’t been stupid.” You pouted slightly and let him kiss the pout off of you. One kiss releasing all the tension and stress from you both.

You rested your forehead against his and then two of you stayed like that for a while; breathing each other in, basking in the closeness. “You really don’t think I’m stupid?” You asked, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.

“No, no, lo siento carino, lo siento- te amo, mucho mucho mucho-” He rambled in a tone similar to baby-talk, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling and pushing his big head away.

“Te amo! I love you too!” You laughed, leaning against him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.” You still had a soft smile on your face, but you were being serious and he knew.

A kiss to the top of your head “Never.” He replied. You hummed, head against his chest and palm against his lean torso.

“Good. Because if you do, I’ll turn evil and start causing problems by tearing holes in all kinds of universes. And Jess and Peter won’t help you stop me because they think I’m cooler than you.” You joked and he fake laughed.

Gently, with faux annoyance, he pushed you away from him. “Is there anything I can do now to persuade you not to do that in the future?” He inquired, leaning toward you.

“Hold me?”

You weren’t doomed to sleep in the cold, desolate bed all on your own anymore. Gifted with Miguel’s arm thrown over your body and holding you tightly, he pressed his nose lightly into your hair and his heart beating against your back. You hoped Peter wouldn’t mind Miguel having a surprise sleepover.

He didn’t mind at all.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Portrait [K. B.]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k

masterlist

summary: «when you photograph a person in color, you photograph their clothes, when you photograph a person in black and white, you photograph their soul»

taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

Anyone who knew Kaz Brekker well enough could say that he slept with one eye open, metaphorically speaking, so it was no surprise when he was able to notice the extra presence in the room even when he was supposed to have sunk into unconsciousness.

His body still hurt as a result of the altercation he had suffered with an aggressive drunk who was at the Crow Club the night before, but it didn't stop him from sitting up suddenly in search of the knife he kept in the nightstand drawer.

"Calm down," said the stranger's voice, at the same time that the light of a lamp illuminated the panorama. "It's just me."

"What are you doing here?" he was quick to say, looking at you in disbelief.

You didn't have to be in Kerch, but in Ravka, and much less did you have any reason to be in his room.

He noticed that you were wearing one of those second army keftas in scarlet, the one corresponding to your order, and you were looking at him calmly from the other side of the room.

There was a kind smile on your features as you approached him and sat next to him on the mattress, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Saints, what did you do to yourself?” one of your hands reached up to try to touch his face, where it was hurt, and he immediately moved away.

"What are you doing here?"

“Poor thing, does it hurt?” you continued, ignoring his questions.

Kaz wasn't quick enough to escape from your other hand, reaching out to grab his cheek so you could better examine the wounds he had. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as you scooted a little further in his direction, well outside the safe limits for him to be the one you were talking to.

He didn't know what scared him more, the fact that you were touching him or the fact that he didn't dislike it at all.

You said something he didn't understand and then, with your free hand, you began to clean the bruises he felt on his face. It was difficult to describe what he felt every time you used small science to fix him, but it was something similar to feeling a tingling advance through every vein under his skin.

Your movements were attentive and loving, as if you were used to doing them all the time. And you were used to it, but not to doing it with him.

"Why are you here?" he repeated, for the third time.

He could feel your breath close to his face and the hand that was on his cheek had a soft warmth. When you looked at him, he saw that your eyes reflected the dancing flame in the lamp and he asked himself why he had never paid enough attention to them, who at that moment were admiring him tenderly.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Under other circumstances Kaz had already become exasperated by your refusal to respond and would have pushed you away from him in the first place. But he seemed out of himself, as if he weren’t the one acting and much less able to carry out a coherent action.

"On the side. But it's nothing"

"Foolishness. Let me help you"

The black-haired man felt hypnotized, to the point where he didn't even resist when one of your hands slipped under his black silk shirt. He shifted slightly at the calculated movements your fingers made, feeling his skin until you found the point of attention and attended to it. Little by little he felt the burning decrease and he let himself be carried away by the pleasant chill that he experienced every time you cured one of his ailments. He closed his eyes for a moment to surrender to the sensation and suddenly that was replaced by a tide that began to suffocate him.

He was drowning again, among rotting corpses and slimy skins.

"Enough…"

“Shh…” you said at the same time, unwilling to let go and planting your palm firmly “It's okay, Kaz. Everything's fine"

"Let me go"

“No, no, darling. Everything is fine, it's me who touches you…” he could have sworn that your voice was a spell, because he felt incapable of disobeying “Just open your eyes and look at me.”

You were too close to him when he opened his eyes and sure enough, all traces of anxiety disappeared. Your hand traced the same path to the outside of his shirt and then kindly placed itself on his pajama pants. It was a gentle touch.

"What are you doing here?" he insisted. He knew he needed the answer to that question to become aware of something that everything around him was screaming at him, but he still didn't know what it was.

“I came back to take care of you, of course. And because I have missed you so much” you explained simply, using that voice that was making him dizzy.

"But you…"

“I think you should lie down now,” you interrupted him. Kaz was racking his brain for what was wrong with the situation, although he found it difficult to concentrate on anything because of your hand caressing his leg.

"Wait"

“I was wrong to sneak in here so late at night, but I needed to know you were okay,” you continued. “That drunk gave you a lot of trouble, didn't he?”

Something clicked on him. You had not been present at the time, so you couldn't know about the altercation.

“Are you real?” he finally asked.

That was the right question. He shouldn't have been wondering what you were doing like that, but rather whether you were really there.

There was no response, as had already happened, and you just smiled kindly at him.

“I'll help you; I know sometimes you can't sleep.”

Kaz was going to ask something else, but suddenly your hand was placed on his chest and he began to feel his entire body relax. His pace slowed, his eyelids began to feel heavy, and any attempt at logical thought was lost in the void. It was just you, dressed in scarlet and looking at him sweetly from your position on the bed.

“Y/N…”

"Relax, I have deprived you of enough rest" you exclaimed. He couldn't complain because you were taking care of knocking him out to the point where his body was already lying down and you were just a blur. “We'll talk tomorrow, okay?”

He was struggling to stay conscious, to try to understand why he wasn't in a crisis because of how you were touching him, and to understand how you had gotten from Ravka to this point, but your Grisha powers were getting in the way.

Just like that, he was still awake enough when you leaned closer in his direction and, against all odds, brought your face close enough to cover him with a kiss on the lips. Everything in him stirred at the tender and deep touch that you were offering him, with his body unable to resist not only your intervention but also the feeling of peace and security that was overwhelming him.

You continued kissing him for so long that he began to gasp for air and when he wanted to break away to breathe, you continued. And you continued, and continued, until the pleasant warmth that was in him turned into a bonfire that began to burn his lungs.

A bonfire, then water... water that was suddenly drowning him.

A second later Brekker stood up suddenly, again, in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. All the panic exploded at that moment and then he realized what he hadn’t been able to decipher in your presence: it had all been a dream.

He confirmed his theory by getting up from the mattress, his bad leg throbbing with pain, and looked at himself in the smudged mirror he had somewhere. His face still had the same bruises that you had apparently taken care of healing.

He looked in all directions looking for a trace of you, but found nothing. There weren’t even signs that the lamp had been lit. He had been hallucinating everything, there were no further explanations.

“Kaz?” Someone called him and the fear that it was you paralyzed him. “Boss? I'm Jesper. A shipment arrived…”

“I'll be right over,” he half shouted, his voice raspier than normal. The day had barely started and he was already in a bad mood.

Jesper didn't say anything, but the man heard his footsteps receding down the hallway and then he walked to the tub and the water with which he washed himself every day. When he had nightmares, washing his hands was useful to cleanse himself of the guilt that overwhelmed him, but now... his hands would definitely not be enough. It would have been necessary to cleanse his entire mind to the core to get rid of the images.

Why had he dreamed of you? He hadn't heard from you in months. After the group had helped destroy the shadow, King Nikolai and those close to him suggested that, if you wanted it, you would have a place in the eccentric group of Grisha who would help rebuild the second army. Kaz was present when they made you the offer and although you responded that you needed time to think about it, the expressions on your face revealed to him the position you were leaning towards.

He didn't blame you for the decision you made, but he didn't express pleasure either. He knew perfectly well your life story and how, after the death of your entire squad on a spy mission, you had ended up in Kerch. No one from Ravka bothered to look for you and you never bothered to return, since you had discovered that the person who sold the secrets of your entrustment to the Fjerdans had been one of your own Grisha companions. If you couldn't trust them, then who? Furthermore, General Kirigan had made sure to earn your contempt after the inappropriate behavior he had begun to engage in towards you. The fear that something would happen to you under his command was greater than the thought of what would happen if they accused you of being a deserter. In Ketterdam no one knew you, so you could start from scratch as someone different.

Kaz had taken you under his wing after by chance you had been in the same place as them when a fight between gangs had developed and in which Inej (a new arrival to the Dregs) had been mortally wounded; you had helped her when you saw her bleeding in an alley and both she and her two other friends were totally grateful. The rest was history.

Having dreamed of you didn’t represent a problem for him, after all it would only be his subconscious reminding him of your existence, however, what was a problem had been the development of it. Kaz was surprised to think that it had been his own mind that had caused him to construct a fantasy in which you behaved so gently and affectionately, to the point of kissing him on the lips. It hadn't been you, of course, but... him? As the boy washed his hands, seeking some comfort, he wondered if he subconsciously wanted you to do something like that. It couldn't be possible.

You had to admit that he cared about you, like the rest of your friends, although he had never thought of you in any way beyond that of a work colleague. You were a valuable member of the team, he wouldn't have to be imagining that you were sneaking in to look for him in the middle of the night to shower him with attention and kisses. It was just ridiculous.

Still somewhat confused, he tried to push all those thoughts out of his mind and then changed out of his pajamas to go to wherever the shipment that Jesper had mentioned was. He thought that the day's activities would probably help him get rid of that strange bittersweet feeling that your fictitious visit had left him.

“Hey, Kaz, have you heard from Y/N?”

The question Jesper asked while he was signing the receipt for several cases of whiskey threw him off and he swore his friend was asking just to spite him. But he couldn't know about the shameful dream, of course. Neither he nor anyone.

"Nothing. The last letter was sent a week after we returned and since then there has been nothing”

“Oh,” he sighed. He seemed almost disappointed. “What about Inej?”

“I learned that their ship was heading to the Wandering Isle and that thanks to her suggestions the crew is freeing slaves.”

“I miss both,” the boy murmured, quite thoughtful.

Kaz looked at him with that usual annoyed expression and Jesper took it as a scolding for how cheesy he was being. However, Kaz actually felt upset because his friend was reminding him that he was in the same situation.

I've missed you so much, you said in your dream. He began to reflect on whether it had been an internal desire to hear those words that reflected the fact that he was the one who missed you.

“Take those boxes inside and put them in place. If I notice that even one bottle is missing, there will be problems,” he warned him. Normally it wasn't Jesper who was in charge of those tasks, but at that moment what the boss wanted was to get rid of him and his inappropriate comments.

“Where are you going?”

“To some matters” was all the response he offered, before limping off in another direction.

It wasn't entirely true that he would be busy during the day, but he decided it would be better to get away from there to clear his thoughts. Without Inej in the city it was more difficult to obtain any secrets and now the collection of information depended on the girls who had left the menagerie to go work with him, so it didn't hurt to walk around the Barrel from time to time to see what I could find out.

The walk served to keep him busy and sufficiently distracted, at least until midday, when he returned to the Slat to eat something. There he received the news that someone was selling a property near the now renovated Crow Club and then he spent part of the afternoon analyzing how convenient it would be to acquire the property to expand his business.

Every night he liked to go to the club to check that everything was going well and solve any situation that required his attention, like the aggressive drunk had been the night before. Furthermore, he had to make sure that none of his crows got into trouble and above all that Jesper didn't lose more money than he could in gambling. Although of course, he already had Wylan to keep an eye on him.

He regularly spent the entire day in his office, working on other things, and only went out to the games area and the bar if necessary. But something that night, that strange feeling he had since he woke up, made him leave the room where he worked. He began to walk around the bar, from where he could see all the people enjoying the bets and drinks, while he looked for his friends. Normally Nina stayed at the Slat, but Jesper and Wylan manned the door or the bar. That night it was the zemeni's turn to watch and Kaz rolled his eyes when he noticed that he was talking animatedly to a girl, or who he assumed was one; Jesper's body covered the person and he could only see a piece of a scarlet dress.

“Shall I get you something, boss?” the bartender asked the black-haired man, who turned his head to deny.

When Kaz returned his face to the front he felt like he was choking on his own saliva at the pair of people walking happily in his direction.

“Kaz! Look who came to visit us!”

Jesper held your hand and was impatiently pulling you through the sea of people, wanting you to meet your friend as soon as possible. But, contrary to the happiness that could be expected with a reunion, Kaz was pale and looked completely worried.

“Y/N?” he murmured, fearing that you were once again just a figment of his imagination.

“Just this morning I was talking about how much I missed you, wasn't that right, Kaz?” laughed Jesper “And now you’re here!”

"Hello"

"What are you doing here?"

Although he tried not to sound hostile, he didn't quite succeed.

“Saints, what did you do to yourself?” you laughed, taking a moment to look at the aforementioned's wounds. Noticing the parallel with his dream, he felt dizzy and before he could get closer, he had already walked away. “Kaz?”

"It's no big deal. It was just a fight”

“I hope not with him”

“If it had been with me, his face probably wouldn't look like that and my face wouldn't look like that” Jesper pointed out and you laughed, because it was true.

“Do you want me to take care of it?” you suggested kindly. It wasn't a bother at all, nor would it be the first time.

“At another time. We don't want you to draw attention to yourself” the boy took a pointed look around the room in search of strange eyes that were peering into your conversation, but he found nothing. Everyone was minding their own business. “Enough with those clothes.”

"You don’t like?"

“It's not that I don't like it,” he clarified. “It's just that it's hard to take my eyes off you.”

Kaz didn't flirt, but if he did, that phrase would have been the closest thing to trying. He meant that wearing those clothes you looked so pretty that the idea of the men in the club seeing you made him sick, much less did he need them to know that you were a grisha because they would seek to take advantage of you. But saying it out loud would have been inappropriate, so he kept it to himself.

“It's too red, right?” you laughed, without any clue of the intention behind the phrase “A gift from Her Majesty the Queen, by the way. She put one of her tailors at my disposal.”

“Oh là là, girl. Are you sure you want to see us now that you only rub shoulders with fine people?”

“Of course I want to see you, fool. You are like family”

Brekker watched in silence as you leaned your entire body against Jesper, letting him put his arm around you to close the distance to nothing. The dress you wore had a high collar and buttons along the chest, along with sleeves three-quarters of the way up your arms. He immediately thought of the uniforms of the second army (the old ones, since Alina had eliminated the colors that divided Grisha's orders) and again he felt a tingling down his spine when he remembered his dream.

We'll talk tomorrow, okay? you had said. Was that dream a premonition? Or could it be that you had really visited him in the middle of the darkness?

"When you came?"

"Newly. I rented a carriage because Anika told me you were here, when I stopped by the Slat to leave my things.”

“Do you intend to stay?”

"A couple of days. I know I didn’t even ask if I could stay with you, but I figured… well, I can stay, right?”

“Of course you can,” the gunman interrupted, sounding excited.

Kaz continued with a serious expression.

“As long as there are rooms available,” he simply said.

There were and he knew it, so you responded, smiling widely in gratitude. Before either of them could say anything else, Jesper stepped forward:

“Let's go so you can say hello to Wylan, he's taking care of some tables over there.”

With a movement the boy took your hand and turned you towards his direction, away from the black-haired man. Despite the direction you followed with your body, your eyes searched Kaz's gaze in the hope of finding something more than what he had said verbally, although you didn't find it. Your free hand reached out to temporarily wave goodbye to the young man, to which he only responded by bowing his head slightly.

Kaz caught a glimpse of the entire exchange; Wylan threw himself into your arms as soon as he saw you and you welcomed him with joy, even planting a kiss on his cheek that made him laugh. Suddenly, as he watched, he found himself feeling jealous of his friends.

He wasn't like Jesper who could take you by the hand everywhere, nor like Wylan who seemed to love being in your arms. And he knew that Nina, as soon as she knew you were back, wouldn't hesitate to express her affection in the same way. For a second, he reflected that the touch of your skin was a longing that he kept in his heart, well hidden behind all that tide of despair and disgust at human contact.

He also wondered if he wasn't dreaming again, afraid that your return was just another twisted fantasy his mind had fabricated. But it wasn't like that, he could feel everything around him and the smells of the place invaded his nostrils; even his leg burned slightly as a permanent reminder that he was alive.

Kaz took one last glance in your direction, still hypnotized by the bloody tone on your clothes, and considered that it would be best to return to his office to continue with the pending work. A few minutes later you went back to look for him to try to drink something but, unfortunately, you realized that he was no longer there.

Thanks to Jesper and his insistence that you drink everything new in the repertoire of the renewed Crow Club, you arrived much later than expected at the Slat. The Dregs never seemed to sleep, and you knew it was probably because Kaz wanted a twenty-four-hour guard, so when you staggered in one of the new guys greeted you curtly and let you pass.

You and Anika had always gotten along well, so when you arrived hours ago she had placed you in the largest room the place had, next to where Inej had once been and down the hall from Kaz's office and bedroom.

You had to admit that your friend's reaction to your arrival had left you somewhat worried, because although it was to be expected that the black-haired man wouldn’t show great joy, you felt that something about your visit had made him uncomfortable. You had probably taken too many liberties in assuming, without consulting him, that you were still welcomed and thought you had to talk to him about it.

When you went to your room you noticed that his light was still on and since the alcohol didn't let you think too well, you convinced yourself that it would be a good idea to visit him despite the schedule. Before going to your task you made sure to search through your suitcase for a couple of things that you had brought from Ravka especially for Kaz and while you did so you tried to shake off the guilt that invaded you when you saw that almost all of your belongings were back in Ketterdam. You hoped that by talking to him he would be able to understand, otherwise you didn't know what you would do from now on.

You snuck down the hallway with bare feet and one of your hands busy, until you arrived in front of the half-open door.

"Busy?" you asked, peering around the frame as you tapped the moth-eaten wood a couple of times.

Kaz was sitting at his desk and only raised his head from the papers scattered across it because he recognized your voice as the one calling him. He seemed exhausted, as if thinking was consuming his entire life.

“A bit. Did you just arrive?”

“Yes,” you laughed, cringing with some shame. Kaz looked you up and down and noticed that your dress, previously so neat and pretty, looked slightly disheveled, although it didn't lose its beauty. Your hair was also less combed than at the beginning “Can I come in?”

The man responded by nodding his head and followed your steps in silence, until you dropped into the chair in front of his desk; he noticed that you were carrying a prominent package in your hands. Your gaze held his for a few seconds, reminding him that you were one of the few people who weren’t afraid to face his discerning eyes and he observed the shine in your orbs accompanied by your blushing cheeks, clear evidence of your drunkenness.

"What do you need?"

“I wanted to know how you are,” you murmured sincerely “In case you wanted me to help with... you know”

It was clear that you were referring to the state of his face. As a healer, part of your job was to detect people's ailments, and boy did Kaz have several. Only what was visible revealed that he had probably been unable to sleep for days, let alone eat. His mental state had never been the most appropriate, but in that space your gift, nor your help, had no place.

“You worry too much sometimes.”

"It looks bad. And it probably hurts.” You slurred a couple of words, but it was still understandable enough. “Let me help you.”

Kaz visibly tensed at your choice of words, immediately remembering the woman from his dreams who had said the same thing, and wishing he could erase those memories. He didn't even realize he hadn't responded until you caught his attention.

"Alright"

With some extra effort to not trip over your own feet, you moved to the other side of the table and squatted down from a safe distance; then, in that position and without touching him directly, you began the appropriate hand movements for healing. The fear of invasion of his personal space immediately dissipated and, just like in his dream, he felt better as he experienced that familiar tingling in his body when you tended to his wounds.

Once you finished, you remained calm for a moment and he felt nervous at the emotions that he couldn't decipher in your eyes. The intoxication visibly relaxed your features so that all the time you were smiling sweetly at him.

"Better?"

“Mhm,” he responded with a hum, fearing that if he opened his mouth his secrets would begin to spill out.

Of course he felt better, as always when you used your skills on him, not only physically but also mentally. It had been so long since he had seen you in his office that he thought he would eventually forget about the feeling, so having you back there felt strangely reassuring.

“I have something I want to show you.”

Wanting not to make your friend uncomfortable, you stood up from your seat, holding on to the desk to avoid falling, and willing to stay as long as Kaz could stand, you returned to your place in front of the desk. Once you took back the package that you had left on the chair, you began to unwrap it to take out one of the objects it contained. He carefully observed the maneuver, realizing that it was a black cardboard box with silver details and even a small bow on the edge, which you left right in front of him.

"What is this?"

"A gift. I brought it from Ravka.”

Kaz's look expressed some confusion at the unexpected gift and he took special care as he opened the box with one of his gloved hands, like someone who fears finding misfortune inside.

“Chocolates?”

“I know you like them,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders “You know, something sweet to counteract the bitterness you have in your character.”

“Looks like visiting your hometown made you funnier, huh?”

“Try one” you suggested excitedly and even though he wanted to do it, the boy didn't have the heart to refuse.

He chose a piece of dark chocolate and when he put it in his mouth, he took the time to savor the treat. Although he wasn’t nostalgic, he was overcome by the distant memory of the hot chocolate that Jordie had once bought him. He hadn't tried that flavor in a long time, and the slight expressions of satisfaction on his face revealed that you had chosen a good gift. He would make sure not to abuse it, but it would be difficult now that he had remembered the delight it represented.

"And? How does it taste?”

“Delicious” he concluded. Sounded sincere and that made you smile.

The night had already embraced Ketterdam and you could see some stars through Kaz's open window, through which a gentle wind blew through the curtains. The landscapes of Ravka had conquered you the moment you set foot there, but you had to admit that you had greatly missed the salty, dirty air of the island that welcomed you when all seemed lost. Even the Slat looked better, although that was perhaps due to the excellent income that the new and renovated Crow Club had.

But more than a physical space, the affection you felt for the place was due to the people who lived there. When you arrived, it was painful not to find comfort in the arms of your friend Inej and you wondered if any of your friends had missed your presence in that way; the effusive hugs combined with the clear joy of the group let you know that this was the case. Kaz was the only one who remained reluctant to any intense display of feelings, although not for the reasons you thought.

"What were you doing?"

“Some accounts,” he sighed bitterly. “This week wasn't the best.”

Anything related to money, for better or worse, was an easy topic of conversation for the black-haired man. He liked to talk about profits, the best bets, investments for the future, and possible traps to gain an advantage. So, knowing that it was a subject he liked, you let him talk.

Through this he gave in and became more and more talkative to answer the questions you asked him, no longer only related to the Crow club. You were able to tell him about the little palace, about the coronation that had taken place a few months ago, about your support for the reconstitution of the Grisha units and about all the policies that the king and queen consort intended to apply.

Kaz listened with surprising attention and when you least expected it, the two of you were already chatting as if the time you were apart had never existed. You liked seeing him this relaxed, it was something that often happened when you guys got together for drinks. You suspected that while you were stuffing alcohol down your throat in public, he had been doing it in private.

“And are you happy there?” he asked suddenly “In Ravka”

You weren’t expecting a question of that type and deep in the lines you wanted to think that you had heard some suspicion in his voice about the possible answer.

"I think so"

“More than here?” he insisted. It was a difficult question, so you took a moment to think about it.

“I think not happier, but… I live better. There are no robberies, no fights between gangs, I have three meals a day every day” you began, smiling slightly at him “But deep down I don't feel happier. I feel like it's all very right, very... fake might be the word? As if a mistake were fatal around so many apparently good people. And it will sound silly, but I think I miss the bad life of the Barrel a little”

“You miss the danger”

“Oh no, we have that in Ravka too. But it doesn't give me the same adrenaline. You know, running away in fear because Jesper had done something stupid, Inej bringing bad news, you resorting to plan Z after the other 25 failed… Do you think I'm crazy?”

“Not at all,” he murmured. “It makes sense that without us your life would be boring.”

A skeptical expression settled on your face.

“Did you just joke or did I hear wrong? Did my absence make you funnier?”

“I've always been funny. And it wasn't a joke, it's a fact."

And with that, your laughter appeared, because it was much easier to make people laugh when you were drunk. The sound filled Kaz's chest with a warmth worthy of shame, especially for him, and tried to ignore the rushes of his heart, hoping you would do the same. You had long ago claimed that you never listened to his heartbeat unless it was necessary, although right now he didn't know if that promise still stood.

He even feared that somehow after your visit to the palace you had obtained powers beyond his understanding and were able to read in his thoughts those dreams he had had before your arrival. The rational part of him knew it was impossible, but the mere idea embarrassed him.

"I guess you're right. “Life becomes monotonous when you no longer have the presence of your manic boss.”

Those words would have earned at least a warning punch from his new cane. But he could forgive your insolence if it meant keeping you in a good mood and, above all, keeping him company.

The movement of your body when you laughed made you aware that you still had an object resting on your legs, which had taken a backseat to the fluidity of the talk. Kaz saw your expression light up when you remembered that you had that mysterious package and then you placed it on the table, carefully unfolding the white piece of cloth that wrapped it.

"What is that?"

“The most wonderful thing you will ever see” Kaz knew about your tendency to exaggerate things, so he tried not to expect too much. “It's the prototype of some Fabrikators in the little palace, it was used on the coronation day. I took it borrowed"

“You stole it”

“I took it borrowed” you repeated seriously, although from your friend's amused face you knew that he didn't believe you “Because I wanted you to see it”

It looked like a strange device, with a lens similar to that of a telescope, but placed in the center of a rectangle and below it a long, linear opening. At the top there was some kind of button. Everything was in black and looked like nothing the boy had ever seen.

“And what is it supposed to do?” He asked, scanning it with his eyes for any clue.

“I could explain it to you, but I'm going to show you. Okay, I take this like this” you began to explain, putting the artifact between you and Kaz. The lens was pointed in his direction “And it's going to sound strange, but I need you to smile.”

“I'm not going to smile”

“It is strictly necessary! Otherwise it won't work."

You were a terrible liar, Kaz had always been aware of that, so he just watched you seriously from his chair.

“Can you at least remove that expression?” you insisted, smiling at your friend in hopes that there was some mimicry on his part. “Please?”

“If you're going to show me, just do it”

“Sweet, always so sweet” you complained out loud and resigned to the fact that that grimace was the only one he would show you, you pointed in his direction to press the button.

A flash of light coming from who knows where threw Kaz off and a few seconds later he watched half a square of paper emerge from the opening in the device. You still had an excited smile on your face as you grabbed the edge of the product with your fingertips.

The boy was too proud to admit that he was curious when you gently shook the sheet, so he just kept watching your movements from his spot for a few minutes. He wasn't prepared for you to drag the chair you were sitting in to the other side of the desk, leaving you a short distance away from him.

"Ready? Ta-dah!”

You happily extended the paper to him and saw his expression of genuine amazement when he could see himself on it. It wasn't even like a drawing, but rather an exceptionally detailed portrait in black and white. Seeing his astonishment you continued:

“Imagine how this would work if you focused it on criminal activities. Heists, if you want to spy on someone, to keep a graphic record of the people who are after your head, whatever you want!” you started, excited “Do you see how much detail it can capture in a second? It can even be used to spy from afar and once you get back here count how many people were talking, who they were, if you want proof of someone making deals…”

Your words were interrupted by an unexpected sound. You highly doubted that you had ever heard Kaz laugh, beyond those ironic sighs he was used to, which is why the laughter froze you completely. You only needed to turn to look at him to reveal your expression; a combination of amazement and fear.

“You will always be a crow, won't you?”

You, too, could detect a mix of emotions in his words, from clear amusement to pride in knowing he was right. It was a forceful declaration: that no matter how many palaces you toured, no matter how many alliances you made, no matter how patriotic those Ravkans wanted to become, you would always belong to the life of the Barrel and, therefore, to the peculiar family that lived in the Slat.

“Please never laugh in my presence again. It's the scariest thing I've ever heard in my life."

The second sigh of amusement was less enthusiastic but more enjoyable for you, even if it was a brief sound that you would try to preserve in your memories. If it wasn’t common to hear him laugh, it was much less common to be the cause of it.

“I must admit that I am quite impressed. You are right to think that it would be very useful for illicit activities.”

“Keep it”

“Didn't you say you borrowed it?”

“You know I was lying”

“And what will your Grisha friends think of this?”

“They'll manage just fine, don't worry. We will put it to better use”

With that, the two of you exchanged a small, but meaningful, knowing look. Kaz still had his portrait in his hands and you replaced it with the device, taking care not to invade too much of his personal space as you knew he hated so much.

“But I will keep this.”

"And what exactly do you want it for?"

“This way I can take you with me wherever I go” your words were sincere and behind them, a clear affection “I like it, you even look… not angry”

“The light disconcerted me”

“I still don’t understand how that works, but we can ask Jesper to fix it,” you suggested gently, trying to make him feel less embarrassed. The truth was that he looked very handsome and his eyes shone the color of the ocean. A beautiful ocean, far from Kerch “Do you want one?”

"One what?"

"A picture. One of mine, of course. That way we would be even”

“I'm not the sentimental type.”

“I know,” you sighed with resignation, “But I am. That's why I'll keep you here."

Kaz watched you put the paper in the pocket inside your coat, on the side of your heart, and he didn't think of anything prudent to respond to that. You would have heard the erratic beating of his heart if you had not been so busy with the rumble of yours.

"I…"

“Kaz also came because I want to talk about something important,” you interrupted him, because you probably wouldn’t have the courage to do it later “Can I?” you asked and he nodded.

Being so close, the smell of liquor that you emanated and that which he emanated combined slightly, during a few torturous seconds of silence. Suddenly the cheerful atmosphere had died down and although Kaz was not an impatient person, the alcohol had slightly clouded his senses.

"What is it?"

“My time here… is not intended to be just a visit”

Were you going to leave him? Was it a farewell then? Maybe that was why you had insisted on taking a portrait of him, one that you would look at from time to time and it would become a distorted blur of a distant time. A ghost.

“And what else would it be?”

There was silence for a moment.

“A permanent stay. If there is still room for me”

During the previous months he had convinced himself to accept that two of his best friends had left to pursue the idea of a better life, away from the hustle and bustle of the barrel, and to some extent he had come to digest the fact. But now the possibility of having you back with him was there and honestly, the most selfish part of him was happy that the little palace hadn't been enough for you.

“Is this a free choice or is there some particular reason that forces you to return here? It's not that it bothers me, but I just… I have to be aware to take my precautions”

“I come clean and of my own free will,” you said, raising both hands. “The King and the queen didn’t take it in the best way, but they did not refuse either.”

“And what is the reason for this sudden change of mind?”

“It wasn't sudden, months passed”

“But you were very convinced that you wanted to stay there.”

Kaz's principles and character made it impossible for him to admit that he had been hurt by your decision to remain in Ravka, but he was, and the subtle venom in the phrase made you aware of this.

“I liked the idea of becoming someone useful. All that fantasy of improving the country, a decent life for the Grisha, fulfilling a purpose, and blah, blah, blah. I think I got a little carried away by the fact that there was a living Saint in the palace and thought... that things would be different. A part of me wanted to feel that this was my place in the world because all my life I dreamed of training hard and reaching the second army, wearing those colored keftas, serving the nation” your voice became sarcastic and you put some quotes in the air “It was most disappointing to feel so out of place being there”

“And you want to go back to street fighting then?”

"Oh no. Now that you are the owner of practically half a Barrel, I highly doubt that anyone will want to mess with me. And the whiskey you serve at the club is a delight worth staying for” again you observed the closest thing to amusement in his features and that made you smile “So what do you say? Do you think the services of a healer are still useful to you?”

“As you just illustrated, fights are less common now. But I'll find something to keep you busy."

“Let's face it, I just healed you. Fights will probably be less common for me, but not for you” you laughed “And at some point you will be grateful for having me here”

Kaz would appreciate having you with him even if you were just hanging out at the Slat or the club. Your absence had only managed to show him how much he could miss you.

“I have to maintain my reputation”

“Yes, but it would be a shame if a bad blow ruined that pretty face”

The boy was aware that his face was already full of scars, spots, and wrinkles from frowning so much, that's why his expression hardened upon hearing your words. He didn't hate your compliments, but it wasn't like he believed them either.

"Go away. You're drunk and I need to work."

Despite the tone of voice, there was a certain affection hidden in those words and you decided to focus on that. You stood up to put the chair back in place and an urge to hug Kaz came over you. However, you knew you had to refrain if you didn't want to end up thrown to the other side of the room.

“Thank you for letting me stay. I'll try not to make too much of a fuss”

That was also a lie, he knew perfectly well the chaos you caused in the company of Jesper and that it would only be a matter of time before it appeared. Still, he nodded to indicate that he was giving you a vote of confidence. You headed towards the door.

“I'm glad you're back,” he said, as you were about to leave. You were afraid you were imagining it, so you turned to look at him.

Both of you wanted to say that you had missed each other, but the intention was lost in the volatility of the air around you.

“Rest, Kaz. If you need anything, look for me, okay?”

The fact that you were now in the same building, a few rooms away, provided the boy with indescribable tranquility.

And when he saw you leave he kept thinking that maybe one day, with enough effort, that strange dream he had could become a reality. For now, it only remained to say that knowing that your return home had been to stay, made his heart feel full again.

[lazyjellyfish300]

If you’re willing, for a dash of angst-tober

Miguel meets you, for obvious reasons you can’t resist him. He’s sexy, smart, charmingly catty and unfunny in a cute way. No shit you’re in love, you two go on a couple dates but he’s oddly distant and you don’t know why.

He clearly feels the same but he’s holding back. Soon when you get tired of waiting for him. So you start seeing other guys, but they aren’t him. You’re consumed by longing, no other man can compare (how could they).

Miguel finally calls you back after a week. He says he’s sorry for blowing you off, and he’s ready to commit. Saying,

“I love you Gwen Stacey”

…..and years later that decision will come to haunt him hahahahahha hahah HAHAHAHAHAH

Only if you’re a willing and not a coward

😈😈😈

Never back down never whaaaat!!! 😈 Lol anyways here ya go moot, this one's for you. 🖤🖤 All hail your amazing brain for this idea! So beautifully angsty. Happy Angstober! 🎃 @miguel-ohara-wifey

would've been you 🍂

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, READER IS MIGUEL'S VERSION OF GWEN STACY(READER IS NOT GWEN, AND obviously NOT ATSV), CANON DIVERGENCE, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, DEATH, BLOOD, BREAKUP, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, NON GRAPHIC SMUT.

WORDS: 1.7K

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

Crimson. Not red. Not scarlet. Not cherry, but crimson. Crimson in particular. 

Crimson. Beautiful, deep crimson. Alluring, so calmly bewitching. Like the pleasant feeling that attacked every nerve in your body that rendered you with the consistency of a cloud after downing a glass of wine. Getting lost in the eyes of the lover who smiled from across the rim. The softest moan leaving your lips as you sat at the edge of his bed and felt the chill of the tension of the heated room spring goosebumps all over your naked body he was slowly undressing, laying you backwards on those silk sheets, thighs opening as his hands trailed fire and scored themselves to undying memory on the shadow of your skin.  

His eyes...

You stare at Miguel from across you at a restaurant, your lingering gaze he senses without even needing to meet it with his own. He simply brings his hand above the table, giving yours a tender squeeze as you peruse the menu. 

You realized then you might have been in love with him.

Your story was simple, transpiring like most any other couples who meet and wind up luckily in love. The outward beauty he possessed was increasingly obvious, but his deadpan demeanor and unserious quips were what endeared himself even more to you.

And he could only stand there in shocked disbelief. Almost like you were a stray cat that clung to an owner you selected by chance who originally thought himself incapable of returning such warmness. 

The hell you saw in a sad old man like him? He didn't understand it, but he couldn't help but welcome it. Your cheesy grin, the playful banter you met with his sarcastic remarks. 

"What are you making us for dinner?" You'd ask. 

"God, I don't know babe..." Miguel's fingers comb through his tousled locks of dark brown as he looked at the pitiful items in your sparce pantry. 

"Tomato reduction with melted mozzarella and cured meat, warmed in a flaky pastry?" You ask from the open freezer. 

"The shock?" He looks at you, quickly overshadowed by unamusement, however he still holds back a chuckle. "Hot Pockets?" 

"The highest level of cuisine!" You toss the box back onto the shelf,  "The way they come out of the microwave like Satan's taint around the edges yet Antarctica in the middle reallyyy sets them apart." 

"How else?" He smirks. 

"Just the way I like it." You hum as you dial the number for your favorite takeout place, not noticing the ache in his chest as he looked back at you. 

Even Miguel O'Hara wasn't immune to the temptation that came with breaking his own rules. 

The daughter of a police chief. 

Why, oh why, did it have to be you? 

Rules he watched bitterly as his own colleagues suffered countless times before, seemingly unfazed by their agony, almost a little sadistic as they cried for their dead loved ones. It was all a part of the plan. The unpleasant truth. 

You don't become Spider-Man by just putting on a suit. 

Feelings must take a backseat when the security of the multiverse, the entire foundation of the very fabric of millions of innocent lives were at stake. 

And how that foreign pain never quite made itself so painfully understood to him until it just so devastatingly involved the soul he fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with. 

And so, like with many of his dealings before, he left you high and dry. Protective measures he took like muscle memory. 

He would hurt you first before you could ever think about hurting him. 

Even if the heartbreak was by grand design. The fabric of the multiverse knitted permanently with the inevitable tragedy of your demise that could not be undone. 

"We can't.....we can't do this." He said simply before he left you like a ghost in the rain, turning away before you could see the tears that threatened to escape. Cursing his name. 

Run away, numb himself, just bottle it up like he always does when he's confronted with matters of the heart that even toyed with the idea of showing his belly. His vulnerability. His weak spot. Calls unanswered. A number out of service. 

He was never here and you never awakened the latent stirrings in his heart that just so ached for warm connection that you fulfilled at last. 

You cried. You cried a lot. Sobbed for his presence that left you with a hole in your chest. Who would you gripe about work to? Who would hear your ugly laugh besides him and find every part of you that you thought wasn't worth writing home about, to be the endless rumination that haunted his mind?

Nobody but him. Nobody like him anywhere. And so you trudged forward with your weary and flayed heart, trying to act like the gaping hole he left in it didn't make your lungs feel like they were full of water every time you breathed. 

Selfishly, spitefully trying to find a replacement in the arms of strangers. Hell, even some of them you knew. Ben Reilly. Peter B. Parker. His coworkers, his friends, even. 

He ruined your life and trampled your heart so you'd smite him back where it really hurts. That's right. You'd go so low as fucking Ben Reilly and Peter Parker. 

---

"Fuck, baby...did he ever fuck you like this?" 

"No..." You moan loudly, knowing damn well every time you closed your eyes you only saw the persistent layer of the damned red of his eyes.

Peter's cock wasn't as girthy as Miguel's,  but the length was close enough that if he fucked you deeply at just the right angle, it could spur vivid memories of all those nights, all those times Miguel O'Hara made love to you, fucked you senseless. 

You moan and sigh, touching yourself, loving the way this new man below you was putty in your hands while you put on a show. His lustful gaze for a moment you mistake for the feeling of being desired, being loved. For now, you figure, it's enough. 

But Peter couldn't fix it. Neither could Ben. 

Fucking Ben. 

That one really stabbed Miguel in the heart. Sinking so low that you'd give your body to a man who was nothing like him. Somebody he thought was below him. Somebody you knew damn well he disliked, and well, you gave over the most intimate parts of you he so foolishly thought you reserved for himself. 

He felt sick when he overheard him talking about it. How you moaned his name, whined so sweetly for him. How he ate you out. How he bent you over in the very bed you and him shared just weeks prior. 

A dull knife in his heart when he found out you even fell asleep together. 

Did he make your toes curl like he could? Did he make you cum? Did gracing the peaks of ecstasy with Ben feel anything like how it felt when you were with Miguel? 

Did those 7 goddamn months even fucking matter to you at all? 

----

Miguel calls you black out drunk, 

"Ben....fucking Ben...how COULD you?!" 

The shade of bleeding red he saw put the intensity of the natural crimson of his eyes to shame. 

You stayed silent. You got exactly what you wanted. The deadly blow had its intended effect. But it didn't feel as gratifying as you thought it would. It made you feel worse. Even as he was yelling over the phone. 

"How was he then? Is he as good as me? Did you think about me while he was fucking you? Did you even have the heart to take down our pictures together before you invited his slimy ass over?" 

Your chin trembles and Miguel stops when he finally hears you cry. 

And despite everything, he would take you back in a heartbeat. 

"Who's gonna be there to listen to me complain about work every day, huh?" Miguel sobs. "Who... who's gonna remind me to take out my contacts? H-How am I supposed to finish that fucking show we were watching together....?" He pauses, the anger tightening in his belly like a fist, 

"What do you see in him?" 

"Miguel?"

"Answer my fucking question. What do you see in him?!"

"Why do you keep talking about Ben?"

"Because Ben doesn't fucking love you the way I do!" He breaks down and your vision is completely clouded over in tears, hand shaking on the receiver as he finally admits what you so desperately wanted to hear. 

"I love you. Do you still love me?" 

"I n-never stopped loving you, Miggy..." You cry. 

"You still think of me?" 

"All the fucking time. I can't get you out of my head." 

"You want me?" He whispers.

"More than I've ever wanted anyone." 

"I'm coming over. Right now." 

-----

And, just for a moment. Simply loving you made him forget about the inevitable dread of losing you. 

It was a day just like any other day in the fall. When the dead leaves mixed with the rain and the ground was a soaked grey, reprieving the gloomy city from the consistent smog that covered the clouds. A remarkable chill in the air laced with nostalgia and petrichor that could be cured with a sweater, making the hot temperature of a warm beverage so inviting. 

It was wonderful day, and all because you stayed in bed together five minutes longer than you should have. Your coffee mug next to his, eggs on buttered toast, nudging his hip as you ate by the stove. Quiet domesticity with the intimate element of routine that  caused him to distinctly remember thinking:

"I can see this happening every day for the rest of my life." 

And he left. Had he known, had he guessed. He wouldn't have let you leave at all, just stay there safely snuggled with you against his chest. 

----

Crimson. Haunting, beautiful crimson. 

The sea that left your battered body covering the street while Miguel shook with grief. The blood loss was such that it exceeded the time it would take for your spirit to depart your body. The disturbing fact that you were barely holding on was even more painful. 

The devasting fact that you were probably suffering in your final moments and couldn't even see him or speak. He told you all of the things he was sorry for  in final confession, but it only came out as the distant echoings of his fading voice as the slow, delayed compassion of death quietly led you by the hand. 

"I love you....I'm not sorry for that..."He whispers, but the light in your eyes had already gone out.

---

[littlepuddingsworld]

Okay, this is going to sound insane, but please hear me out.

In the 19th century, there were doctors who specialised in curing "female hysteria", which was often just misdiagnosed sexual frustration (Whenever women were too out of control for men to handle, it was diagnosed as hysteria. So it was basically anything, sexual frustration included...). The cure was fingering...yeah. It was relatively normalised to, as a doctor, finger someone's wife...quite a way to make a living. There was basically a handbook written in Latin about how you do it (oil up your hand, insert here, there will be muscle contraction, the lady in question will breathe heavily before ultimately having a hysteria paroxysm (this is a former medical term for orgasms btw)). Obviously, there were mixed opinions about giving another man's wife an orgasm, however, the Catholic doctors concluded that it cannot have been sexual, since there was no penetration. "It's our duty as doctors to cure these poor women of their hysteria, Sir 🫡"

FUN FACT: Since some doctors would experience wrist pain from the...hard manual labour, they invented a device that does it for them: The vibrator. When the vibrator was first used in pornography, the doctors said NOPE and left their profession behind. In 2011, there was a period romcom made about this called Hysteria. It's not even that bad, unironically. Oh and by the way, the name hysteria is derived from the Greek word hystera, meaning uterus, hence why only women were diagnosed with hysteria.

Anyway, getting to my point:

Imagine a yandere thinking that you're being incredibly hysterical, emotional, out of control and then proceeding to sit you down and curing you of your hysteria the old-fashioned way...

They either do it knowingly, or are just too oblivious to even realise that what they are doing is...not quite the correct solution for the problems they caused you in the first place...

Just wanted to share this with someone...take it as you will...

,,, to be honest, I knew about the hysteria, but I didn't know about the fact that a vibrator was created that way,,,, sexy big brain<3333 i love your words so much, mercury kissed you at birth,,,, very brainy, very many cerebral convolutions, I love it,,, come here to kith kith pretty pie—

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

your husband is so sweet, so adorable — especially when he's on his knees in front of you, purring something about how he should help you, as if it's not his personal fault that you feel like this.

... ♡ unhealthy relationship, misconception of the century / time, hierarchical society, mild sexism? (more classism?), mild maledom elements, mention of religion, forced marriage implied, male pregnancy mentioned because no pregnant reader, unethical treatment methods?; doctor!noble!husband x darling!reader

dubious consent (dubcon) -> consensual sex, crying, mild sadism/masochism, mention of degradation (g.), hair pulling (g.), oral sex (r.), mild fingering (r.), praise (r.)

If THEODORE had been told that he was "mistreating his darling spouse", he would have

agreed.

It was logical: if he treated you well, then would you enter into a frenzy of emotions, scream and look as if you were about to faint before falling at a table made of pleasantly smelling wood, — Theodore knew that you love this variety; almost all tables, chairs and other wooden utensils was of this sort, — completely exhausted, unable even to drive away your narrow-minded husband, only waving a fragile palm in his direction, as if desperate, while he took your fan, straight from the hands of the best chinese craftsmen, and gently fanned you, letting you hang head? Of course not.

You, his breathtaking spouse, were so touching and gentle, full of spring charm and a few drops of exquisite, expensive coquetry, like the first flowers in spring — delicate, almost transparent, not at all like the luxury of scarlet roses that gardeners grow every season, or the exuberant scent of lilac and juniper, especially in July. Not at all. Your charm was subtle, unique, corresponding to the rumbling of the first rivers or the first drop falling from the roofs after the melting of the snow. You have never been a socialite — never; parents were rich enough to support you and your siblings, but not rich enough to live in idleness and not worry about money.

You were introduced at the first ball and attended others from time to time, but most of the time you couldn't afford to walk around with "old dresses", not wanting to be considered poor or shame family by not being able to buy new clothes. Theodore understood perfectly well — being from a not-so-rich family, somehow coping with this whole world, you simply could not afford to live bohemian, expensive and shameless out of fear that money was too little, as if you did not even think that you could just marry someone rich and sponsor with their help your family. Theodore didn't blame, having heard about you for the first time from the mouths of other dandies who follow every new "coquette fan", more than an eloquent sign of finding a partner, though; "too conscientious and didn't understand how this world works" or just a prude,

but now, he understands that you just knew your worth and waited for someone like

him.

After all, in a world where divorce can only happen after death, and infidelity is punished by an enraged spouse with a knife, how could you easily marry someone? You were so alluring, like ripe peaches filled with juice — naturally, not everyone can and should touch your delicate, perfumed hands and caress skin so soft that no overseas silk can compare.

Theodore was sure that there were words about you: "If the cost of their kiss was hell, // then I will kiss their lips, // so that in hell I can brag to the devils // that I was in heaven without even entering it." Because you were paradise, it didn't matter if you smiled, cried or screamed — or were "not a couple who deserved," but only because you could have become the monarch's spouse right away, but he found you earlier.

He had no doubt that you were special — definitely to him. Therefore, he did not think long before he came to your parents to take you to his estate, in the sweetly itchy haste of first and only love, kissing your hands and touching the slightly trembling fan with thin fingers while you looked down in frightened amazement, while your parents confusedly exchanged glances, not understanding why he came to "court you". Theodore did not ask if you had someone — after all, if you had, you would rather slit your throat than let another touch your thin fingers, because he would have done exactly the same in your place if he were still a dependent young man (now, of course, he was not — having studied at a very prestigious university, where his parents also studied, he was more than an enviable independent bachelor and knew it). And if earlier he was afraid that, what if!, was not "normal", then when saw you, he knew that he had been waiting for you all this time — and you were undoubtedly waiting for him too.

If, in order to be with you, he had to refuse the sky, the sun and the moon, he would do it without hesitation. This is love — Theodore had no doubt that you yourself understand this.

Your parents, however, soon dispelled his prejudices. You didn't just "didn't understand it" — you weren't like that, but Theodore, hesitating only for a few seconds, realized that you just weren't like everyone else. While others were blinded by love, like him, you couldn't be like that — you just didn't understand it, didn't feel like that, and your parents were only afraid that your "defect" in the marriage market would make you lonely for the rest of days.

Theodore, however, did not think so: you were the same age as him, he was childless, unmarried, rich and educated, had an estate with intelligent and trained servants, good sources of income, a lot of free time, did not have the habit of drinking a lot of alcohol or tobacco, — and the fact that you were allegedly "not sensual enough" was, of course, stupidity. He wasn't going to use the fact that you can't pick up a knife to kill an unfaithful spouse! And I wasn't going to cheat! He won't do any harm! Yes, you may be a little... very very little defective-ish, but isn't love blind? He will accept you at any cost, even with such a... 'setback'.

... Of course, it is wrong and even abnormal that you cannot kill someone who is cheating on you, and are not ready to die just to be with someone you love, and that it is wild for you to give up everything for your beloved... But Theodore understands that you are already too perfect, and it's okay to have flaws. He's not thirteen anymore.

As long as this is not passed on to children, everything will be fine, please, don't worry, ma joie, — he gently whispers to you, touching gloved fingers, stroking fingers gently, looking into your very happy face ? — I'll accept you for who you are, even with this. With everything. Because you and I, being whole by ourselves, become more than just "ourselves" together.

And it was true, don't get him wrong! His pedigree was good, he was, uh, "thoroughbred," and his family tree was beautiful, worthy of your hand. Theodore was not self-confident, but he was confident, buying everything you want, not walking through salons and entertainment houses and not being in any dubious circles, his entourage was only intelligent people who had an education and could both write and read, and not in two languages, and there was no one in his circle someone of the same gender, and he wasn't squeamish or suspicious. After all, what else can you worry about? But you were worried. Over time, it's even a little noisy.

You shouted, sometimes threw yourself, behaved strangely, as if he was not a refined learned man who was your shadow and wrote poetry to you, not forcing you to do anything even after your approved marriage, but a brute or an invader. Did he take you away without permission? Perhaps using his status in society to a little and influence your parents with children who have not yet appeared to the beau monde, and used a little influence to convince these people that he will help your siblings in the future to find a better match than they can now count on — but then why does he need it: status, influence, reputation, — if he can't even convince his love to stay with him? Otherwise, you can't blame—

... Oh wait.

You can.

Theodore realizes with annoyance, sitting hs office with a book in hands, writing notes in diary, and adjusts his glasses: he had completely forgotten — you're "not like that." You're different. Your parents told him. You understand love differently, you look at your partner differently, you cannot understand the concept of love itself... Theodore used to think that they just raised you wrong, but now he understands what they meant: that the feelings that ordinary people spend on a partner, you leave inside, letting them accumulate, and when you realize that you can no longer, you emotionally explode and behave as if something is wrong with him or you — it's obvious! You just can't do it any other way! Of course, why else would you be unhappy with your situation? After all, it's natural that your family hardly communicates with you or that you can't spend a lot of time outside the house — everyone lives like that, except the unmarried! You just don't understand it!

Because you are so emotional, so sensitive, so responsive, that, naturally, you need special care and care, and not a sidelong glance from your husband, who behaved so coldly, only supporting, but not helping you in any way! After all, he studied at the best university, was one of the best students, even had an internship and, of course, corresponded with his comrades, learning new ways to deal with diseases and disorders. After all, what kind of "good husband" is he if he can't even help his gentle, easily excitable spouse cope with their, he's not afraid of that word, illness?

You just don't understand...

“... Darling, we need to make one thing.”

You are gentle, soft, not submissive — both in clothes and under them, and although you may consider him a little pathetic when he whispers it to you, burying cold nose in your thigh like a lost dog, but after shouting and throwing things, you are no longer so full of destructive energy. Holding him tightly by the hair, you look down with pursed lips, but do not answer anything — and in expensive clothes, with jewelry, sleek and clearly not deprived of the love and affection of a bohemian husband, you look like a deity that descended from heaven.

Theodore knows that he must decontaminate for sure, but what can a spouse hide from a spouse, right? After all, you are more than a "single whole", especially when he is sitting on his lap, no problem as long as you are sitting on a chair made of your favorite wood, soft and comfortable enough, allowing him to carefully get rid of excess clothes without disgrace, looking at how thin lips touch your skin in a respectfully pious way.

Even your heavy breathing from the outburst of emotions sounds like music that should be played in the church if they want the heavenly ambassadors to descend.

Is he too "sugary"?

No, he's just a realist.

“Darling, please...”

You don't push away even when fingers gently touch your thighs like feathers, just frowning a little harder. But not by pushing it away. You are smart, you always have been, and, of course, you yourself understand that you are sick, and only he, as your husband and doctor, can help you. It's natural. Why do you need another men- or women- another doctor? How dare someone else touch you? Only you can touch him and only he can touch you. He's yours — a husband, a doctor, anyone. As soon as you become healthier, he will definitely be your lover — and maybe one day you will take a child or will he carry it. After all, how dare he sleep with you and use you, so gentle and airy, like a messenger from heaven, while you are so deeply ill, not even really knowing what love is and how to react to it?

“Darling... It's just a little help. Just say the word and we'll stop anytime. I don't want to harm my spouse, you know... Besides, you can always stop me by force.”

You yourself spread your warm, soft, almost plush thighs while he meekly looks up from the bottom, trying to unobtrusively encourage you to let him just look a little. Theodore was not an expert on issues related to sex life or the influence of genitals on human behavior, — although, undoubtedly!, it was important, but he preferred less dirty things, — but now, kneeling in front of you on a soft carpet, stroking your skin, it did not seem something vile or dirty, animal, but for some reason pleasant and... airy-natural; the very sight made him want not to wince and turn away, but not to look away, even when you pull his hair harder, frowning, clearly not too willing to continue this, but it's better than if he drags you to someone else.

You knew yourself that your husband sometimes got too involved with the human body in a not too, uh, "harmless" sense, but it was never dangerous or illegal, unless against the law of god, so you let him correspond with 'friends' and 'colleagues', studying new diseases and learning more about experience and practice. But if you knew that one day you would be the subject of research, you would definitely throw his ink and letters into the fireplace — along with other things.

“Mi único... I want to help... Do you know what hysteria is? This is when a darling behaves very much... emotionally because of the internal tension. And so we have recently come up with a... new way to deal with similar diseases. It can help our marriage... Te quaeso?”

Theodore is not an idiot; rather, he feels like a trainer or a tamer, gently pushing and touching, without making any sudden movements while you look at him, gradually relaxing the tense body, letting his fingers, slightly slippery from oil and disinfectants, touch the delicate skin of the inner thigh, massaging and stroking, not hurrying. He doesn't have much experience — practically none, you never shared a bed even after the "wedding night", — but there is enough theory and ideas how to use it, especially when thin, slightly cool fingers slowly touch the skin under stomach, stroke as lightly as possible along a sensitive line, kissing with warmed lips the skin. If he could, he'd love to just open his mouth and eat you, or at least nibble — but he's not the type who eats his darling and then walks around saddened widowers and widows without the opportunity to remarry, he's a more sophisticated type and definitely not that creepy, even if the way you are you pull his hair as fingers gently circle around, rubbing and stroking, using precum for better contact, makes his eyes water and his mouth open slightly, breathing, feeling too ambiguous even for a "husband", let alone the role of the "doctor" in which he was.

“Please... d-darling...” He chirps something slightly hoarsely, stroking, caressing, breathing every other time, as if you are holding not by the hair, but by the throat; when his fingers tremble slightly, you hiss, making him blush slightly shamefacedly, as if from your swearing, — but he tries not to break the rhythm, ignoring, as befits a refined well-mannered husband. Do well-mannered husbands use their fingers on their spouses? Theodore doesn't have that much experience to respond, especially when you flinch slightly, curling your toes, — and he wants to bite just to remove this strange shameful, almost perverted feeling of a mixture of lust and guilt inside, clearly not too approved by religion, but when you start breathing shallowly and harder, closing your eyes, Theodore moves his fingers faster, watching your face.

Is that right? You don't hold him so tightly, but don't take your hand away, and his fingers are so slippery and wet that he's almost ashamed, as if it's all his juices, and he definitely should at least look away, but this is scientific curiosity, just curiosity, even when he changes his position, sinking lower shamelessly, feeling himself for a moment, it really was some kind of fallen man from entertainment houses, with an implicit gurgling feeling in the lower abdomen, listening only to your breathing and slightly squelching sounds. Theodore hardly breathes, looking at his fingers, trying for a moment to distract himself with the fleeting thought "good that cut nails" — but when your... your bare foot touches his shoulder, it seems so perversely seeing your calves that he does not know where to look — freezing for a moment, his eyes are drawn only to you, even if it looks so... sweetly vulgar, completely wrong, — but you're already married, so it's okay even if you're not like that, right? It's okay when he sees something below your neck and bare arms, it's okay when you squeeze his hair tightly again, it's okay when he hears your hot, loud breathing, as if you're breathing directly into his red ears, although he can't even look up from the way you're holding him.

Your fingers are strong, dexterous, squeezing his strands so hard that he can't move anywhere, but for some reason he is too pleased with this than he should be, even when Theodore feels like you are pushing him even closer shamelessly, as if he is not your, actually, noble and high-minded husband, who is now plays the role of your doctor, helping you with your "hysteria", but some kind of fun boy!

Outrageous!

“D-darl-!~”

You hiss something, almost growl — and pull too hard, forcing Theodore to briefly let out a distant sigh without resistance — and obediently open his mouth, hastily removing his fingers so as not to interfere before he finds a new, more comfortable place. His eyes are slightly watering from the mild pain, but when he does not see a shadow of the old irritation or anger in your face, he obediently sticks out the tip of his red tongue, not trying to shirk his doctoral duties — or is this already a marital duty? Theodore doesn't know, he's not sure, — especially when you hold him even tighter, not listening to what he says, knowing that if he really was "against it", he would have already got out, and not looked at you like a fawn at a hunter, as if it wasn't because of him that you were here, with legs spread apart and heavy breathing from the heaviness in the lower abdomen.

Is this really what he was taught at university?

A boy for fun.

The corners of your husband's eyes turn red, but he does not try to say anything or justify himself, — why should he? — making inarticulate sounds, but only moving his head, hesitantly holding your hips as much as he could do it respectfully and unobtrusively; after all, he is a learned man, even if he was kneeling like some kind of animal or a slave.

When Theodore awkwardly, clumsily moves his tongue, trying to make sure that you feel good, for some reason the world feels much brighter and sharper, — especially when the heat gets stronger, making you tremble slightly, feeling a wide tongue and thin flexible fingers, as if they are perfect only for this, but there is less air in your lungs than you need to continue dirty deservedly whisper to him how low he has sunk, from his 'writing letters to the best doctors he studied with' to kneeling in front of his spouse.

It's not that you're going to stop him or let him change his position, of course, but just force him to continue doing what he's good for, while he's almost meowing, almost purring, not trying to pull away anymore.

... It's not that he's wrong, though.

You definitely feel better after a little therapy.

[hellfirexwhore]

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy! 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey." 

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat. 

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars. 

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you. 

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night. 

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week. 

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass." 

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are. 

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him. 

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs. 

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me." 

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands. 

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone. 

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him. 

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong. 

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm. 

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head. 

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave. 

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

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You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too. 

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now. 

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation? 

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work. 

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do. 

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude." 

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working. 

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning. 

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall. 

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on. 

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead." 

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming. 

 Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door. 

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works. 

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out. 

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

You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces. 

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long." 

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?" 

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away. 

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen. 

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders. 

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips. 

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me." 

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one." 

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here." 

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it. 

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships. 

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed. 

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you." 

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand. 

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass." 

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days. 

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore." 

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours. 

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-" 

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes. 

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?" 

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen. 

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it. 

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Hi 🥰 idk if u remember me but im rainb0wdrafts from ao3! Saw on your bio that ure taking request soooo uhmm can I request a fluffy / smutty wanda x fem reader fic based on a song Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko? 🥺 or if ure not feeling that particular song, any song that would inspire u from her Expectations album.

P. S.

still cant wait for the ending of Sparkling Scarlett. I’m having mixed emotions about it rn JSKSKSLLSLS

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you try to get your mind off of Wanda in a crowded nightclub, and she finds you there and eases your cravings for her.

content warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

A/N: omg hiiii!! i totally hadn't listened to that song before, so i listened to it on repeat while i figured out the vibes and plot line lol. i was basically feeling nightclub vibes with wanda and fem!reader going feral for each other. i hope you like it ◡̈

you literally cured my writers block so thank u 🙏, i really don't want Sparkling Scarlet to end either😭

photo cred: me, i literally made the photo in photoshop lol. anyways.

Craving You

The nightclub reverberated with an electric energy that filled every inch of the air. A symphony of pulsing lights painted the space in vibrant hues, dancing in synchrony with a mesmerizing blend of bass-heavy rhythms. It resonated in the bones of those who stood on the crowded dance floor. 

You danced along, your body swaying to the pounding tempo as your feet started to tingle, the vibrations palpable in the stifling air. The atmosphere was a sensory overload, a place where time blurred, and your inhibitions dissolved as your friends brought you yet another shot. 

Shooting down the clear liquid, you grimaced at the taste, attempting not to cough it back up as your friend patted you on the back. Looking up, you saw Kate’s already flushed face as she lazily scanned the room. 

“Just go and find her already,” You said, feeling your senses starting to dull as the vodka left a pleasant burn in your chest. “I promised you I’d be here as a wingwoman tonight!” 

Kate looked over at you, her face giddy with the anticipation of finally talking to her long-time crush, Yelena. You laughed, grabbing the slightly crumpled water bottle from her grasp and uncapping it. Forcing the bottle against her lips, you watch her gulp down the water. 

Hastily pulling the bottle away, you take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. “Don’t gulp it all down Kate, you’ll get sick that way.” You chastised, only half joking. You really didn’t want to spend another night holding Kate’s hair as she spewed her guts into a nightclub toilet. 

Gently shoving her away, you gave Kate a light pep talk. It mostly consisted of complimenting her outfit, as she’d stressed about it all day. You had helped her pick the dress, a stunning knee length fabric that shimmered with each passing ray of multi-colored light. Kate spun in a small circle as you showered her with compliments, before finally turning away and laughing, her eyes scanning the room for Yelena. 

“But wait!” Kate exclaimed, swaying slightly as she gripped your upper arm tightly. She struggled to focus on your face, finally making eye contact. “You haven't had enough alcohol to get your mind properly off of her yet.”

You sighed, letting out a breath into the already warm air. The atmosphere dimmed slightly, the stale air swirling around you as you remembered the true reason you’d let Kate drag you along. In all honesty, you’d never been much of a party girl. You always preferred a night in, sipping tea as you watched a sitcom with your girlfriend. 

And there it was, the one thing you’d been trying not to think about.

Shooting Kate a look, you shook your head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to help much.” She gave you an apologetic look, and you gave her a slightly firmer push towards the dance floor. She turned slowly, and upon seeing a flash of dirty blonde hair, quickly left your side in pursuit. 

Turning back towards the bar, you squinted against the flashing lights, already feeling a headache coming on as the vibrant mix of reds and blues swirled against the walls. Pushing through a tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies, you snagged a seat towards the end of the bar. You ordered a shirley temple (you really did miss Wanda), and sat back against the wall. Choosing to give your eyes a rest from the mass of bodies dancing in an uncoordinated pattern, you let your eyes unfocus as you stared into the dark red of your drink. 

Wanda had unfortunately been called away, her position as head of her company demanding more hours as the summer season hit. She’d left immediately after a late night phone call, grabbing her pre-packed bag and sweeping out of your shared home. She’d promised that it wouldn’t be too long of a trip, and that she’d call you every day. That was three weeks ago. 

She did call you every day, but spoken words weren’t enough for you. You wanted to be held by her, falling asleep in her arms as she laughed along quietly to the sitcoms playing in the background. You wanted to kiss her again, like it was the last time you’d ever embrace her lips with yours, frenzied and passionate. The sound of her voice through a phone, knowing she was miles away, couldn’t compare to the way she would hold you close with your breaths intermingling as you pulled each other impossibly closer. 

Fuck, you missed her with every fibre of your being. 

Shaking off your suddenly melancholic thoughts, you scanned the room for Kate. The mess of brown curls was lost in the sea of moving bodies, and you focused on the first flash of blonde you saw. Upon seeing Yelena, you smiled at the sight of Kate standing mere inches away from her. Your mission was accomplished, and all you had to do was not think about Wanda. 

How utterly disappointing it was, when your thoughts wandered back to her. Back to her soft red curls, slightly frizzy as they splayed across her bare back. You always swore you woke up next to an angel everyday, and Wanda would laugh as she showered you with kisses. Her laugh, flowing from her lips with a melodic grace as her lips danced softly across your skin. Back to her freckles, a constellation neatly scattered across her features that you had attempted to count many times. Back to her waist and hips, the slow curve that you dragged your fingertips over, until you finally reached her…

A hand against your waist startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly as you turned in your seat. Setting your drink down on the counter top, not wanting to enter into the range past tipsy, you looked up. 

A sea of red curls filled your vision, and your eyes slowly widened as you drank in the sight of Wanda standing before you. She had a hand in her pocket, the other stroking your hip in slow circles as your brain attempted to process. Her vibrant green eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched the multiple emotions you were feeling flit across your face. Her skin was lit with the ever-changing hues of the nightclub, and you started to feel as though you were in a cinematic movie scene. 

“Not a movie sweetheart.” Wanda said, her velvety voice wrapping around your head and sinking you further into a trance. You could hear the undercurrent teasing, but elected to ignore it in favor of staring at her. Staring at her ridiculously attractive cheekbones, at her sharp jaw and shining eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Jolting out of your seat, finally processing the fact that she wasn’t a figure of your imagination, you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders as you sunk into a well-known embrace. Your bodies molded together, and you felt her arms tighten securely around your waist. You couldn’t make yourself pull away, letting the hum of the nightclub fade into insignificance as you attempted to convey the depth of your emotions through your embrace. Wanda nestled further into your arms, your breaths synchronizing as you held each other. 

Breathing deeply, you buried your nose into her hair as the familiar scent of vanilla filled your senses. For some reason, that gave you enough strength to pull away, but only far enough so you could see Wanda’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was slightly breathy as you eagerly drank in the sight of her. She gazed down at you, her eyes fitting to your parted lips as you exhaled shakily. She smiled, leaning in closer until her lips touched the shell of your ear. You shuddered. 

“My trip ended a bit later than expected,” Wanda started, her tongue flicking out against your ear. You felt her smirk against you as a shiver ran down your spine. “And I didn’t want to wait until you got home to finally see you, so I came to you.”

A large smile made its way onto your face. Your girlfriend, who had just flown miles back home and who was probably jetlagged as hell, had made the decision to walk into a grungy nightclub in search of you. At the mere thought of how much effort she’d put into seeing you, you crashed your lips against hers. 

Her lips met yours with an equal amount of ferocity, and you felt her dragging you away from the bar as she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth. You followed happily, all of your thoughts invested solely on the woman you were clinging to. She pulled you through a doorway, the security team waving her through as they recognized her well known status. 

You could barely think, a certain fuzziness overtaking your mind as it focused solely on Wanda. You focused on your hands against her shoulders, the way your fingertips brushed against the overheated skin of her neck and tangled in the loose curls that fell around her shoulders. After a desperate tug of her hair, Wanda pulled away briefly to push open a door, before shutting it and pushing you harshly against the solid wood. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing yours as she caught her breath. Her cheeks held an adorable flush, and her eyes shined as they roamed over your heaving chest and shaky legs. Her hands pressed your hips firmly against the door, and you squirmed slightly as you attempted to pull her closer. 

“I missed you.”

The words flowed from you desperately, and Wanda smiled at the whimper in your voice. She always loved you like this, when you were soft, pliant and so eager to please. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, until the front of her body was flush with yours. You rolled your hips against her, letting out a choked noise from the back of your throat as you relieved some of the aching pressure that had built between your legs. 

Letting her teeth graze your jaw slightly, Wanda focused on marking the soft skin of your neck as you panted beneath her. Her hands stilled your rolling hips, and you whined as she pulled back to look at your desperate form. 

“What exactly did you miss?” She asked, raising a single eyebrow as you struggled to get your brain to work. 

Catching a glimpse of the soft bed behind you, and realizing that Wanda had pushed you into one of the private backrooms of the nightclub, you pushed gently against her shoulders. Allowing you to walk her backwards, Wanda let out a surprised puff of air when the backs of her knees met the mattress. 

Moving to straddle her, you tangled your fingers with her smooth curls once more as you tilted her head back. With your lips against her temple, you breathed in the familiar heady scent that was so wholly Wanda as you murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around your waist, keeping you on her lap as you ran your hands over cheeks and jaw, fingers ghosting over her skin as you started speaking. “I missed your annoyingly perfect eyebrows,” She let out a surprised giggle, raising them playfully as you laughed. Bringing a single finger down to her lips, you placed it against her bottom lip. “I missed your lips, so soft and kissable, and the words that drip from them wherever you speak.” 

Tilting your head down, you placed a gentle kiss against her lips, pulling back when she attempted to deepen it. Wanda furrowed her brows as you pulled away, but you smiled softly and placed your finger against her lips once more as she tried to speak. “Hush love, I’m not done.”

Sitting back, Wanda watched your face as your eyes followed the path your other hand traced down her neck. As your fingers ghosted over the column of her throat and danced along her collarbone, she gently sucked your finger into her mouth. Your eyes flew back to hers in surprise, but she simply smiled around your finger, her tongue swirling around the heavy pad as you watched with parted lips. 

You groaned, finding it hard to concentrate as you watched Wanda suck on your finger like it was the best thing she’d had in her mouth for a while. You placed another finger against her lips, and watched in an almost trancelike state as she sucked that one in as well. Her eyes closed slightly as she sucked, and she let out a low moan as your other hand tightened against her shoulder. 

The sound startled you out of your daze, and spurred you on. Reaching down, you removed your fingers from her mouth as you swiftly pulled her expensive blouse over her head. Throwing the article somewhere behind you, you brought your fingers back to her parted lips and sighed as you felt the wet heat of her mouth encircle them once more. 

“I missed your skin,” You said breathily, running a hand over her toned arms as they pulled you further onto her lap. You gasped as your core met her pelvis, and tried not to grind your hips down against hers. Unclasping her bra, she helped you take it off as you ran your fingers over her perspiring skin. Leaning down, you let your tongue drag against her, collecting the slightly salty taste as you traced a path from the tops of her breasts all the way to her ear.  

“I missed the way you feel against me,” You whispered, and she reached up to pull your fingers out of her mouth. In one smooth motion, she pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra, both items landing somewhere with a soft thump as she maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the bed. 

You giggled slightly, feeling her hot breath against your overheated skin as she drank in the sight of you. She leaned closer, her lips parted as her eyes focused on the smooth skin of your neck, but you placed your hands firmly against her shoulders. Pushing back, you ignored the frustrated look she sent you, shushing her as you guided her to lay against the sheets. 

Your hips still straddled hers, and after sitting back up, you rolled them slightly as you gazed down on Wanda’s form. She lay beneath you, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed your nude chest, her hair splayed out across the dark sheets. 

“I missed your tits.” You said cheekily, reaching out your hands as your fingers pinched her nipples gently. Instead of reprimanding you like she normally would, Wanda let out a soft moan as she squirmed slightly, her hands tightening on your thighs. You felt your breath catch, the heat in your belly flaring at the sight. 

Leaning down, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting unrestrained moans into her mouth as she kissed you back with equal ferocity. Panting, you parted from her as you trailed your lips down her neck until you reached the soft skin of her breast. Sucking gently, you placed a few hickeys against her skin, sighing when her hand reached up to tug at your hair. 

Wanda’s hand clenched tightly, bringing tears to your eyes when you finally let your mouth encircle her tight nipple. Letting out a pained noise, you breathed deeply as she glanced down apologetically, her hand relaxing slightly. Flicking your tongue, you pulled more moans from her as you played with her chest. You could feel your bodies sliding against each other as the heat from your desperation built. 

Deciding to give the poor woman some relief, you detached your lips from her chest, admiring her puffy nipples as she groaned. Wanda’s hands became more desperate as you descended her body, tugging your head closer to her overheated skin as your lips grazed the top of her pants. She let out a desperate whine, and your eyebrows shot up at the sound. 

“I missed your hips.” You traced your fingers over the faint stretch marks you found there as you pulled her pants down in a quick motion. Your fingers mapped out a path along her skin as you traced the mole near her belly button, and the soft raised scar on her hip from when she’d fallen out of a tree when she was five. Moving further down, you spread her legs as you knelt between them, letting your lips trace a path from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. You sighed softly as the scent of her arousal reached your nose, and you nuzzled your face into the soft skin of her inner thighs as her legs attempted to close around your head. 

You shook your head out of the clouds, blinking as Wanda hips frantically raised against your palms. You looked up, watching her heaving chest and admiring her strong jaw as she threw her head back against the mattress. One hand was clenching the dark sheets under her, and your eyes widened at the sight of her white knuckles. The other hand gripped your wrist tightly, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against your sweaty skin as her legs tightened around you. 

Placing your hands firmly against her thighs, you spread her legs as she bucked her hips. Letting her hand tangle with your hair, you chuckled as she attempted to press your face against her dripping center. You admired the wet spot forming against her underwear, blowing a stream of cool air against her core as she writhed beneath you. 

“Please.”

You let out a moan of your own at her plea, before quickly stripping her of her underwear and leaving her completely bare against the sheets. You barely had a moment to admire her pale form against the dark fabric before her hand was tugging your head closer to her once more. 

Placing a gentle kiss against her protruding clit, you smirked as her hips jerked. “I missed your scent,” You murmured, unsure if she could actually hear you over her own desperate moans. “I miss the way you taste against my tongue, and the way you roll your hips when I finally lean in for a taste.” 

Wanda’s moans turned into desperate pleas, her hips now uncontrollably rutting against the mattress as she searched for any sort of release. Taking mercy on her, you finally leaned down and swiped your tongue against her core. Moaning at the taste, you circled your lips around her clit as she babbled incoherently while thrusting her hips against your face. 

The grip of her hands in your hair caused tears to spring into your eyes once more, but you ignored it. Sucking harder, you urged her hips to buck faster against your face as her moans became more breathy. You felt her jerk unsteadily against you, her hips losing their rhythm as she neared her climax, incoherent words streaming from her lips. 

Sucking her clit in between your teeth, you bit down gently while swirling your tongue around it, and Wanda lost what little control she had left. Her legs tensed around your head, squeezing tightly as her body shook. Her clit pulsed on your tongue, and you smirked as a wave of wetness hit your chin. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out a throaty moan. Her fingers locked in your hair, her hand firmly pressing you against her spasming core as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm. 

You licked your lips clean after finally coming up for air, her legs relaxing just enough for you to pull away slightly. As soon as you caught your breath, you dived right back in and savored the rich taste of her against your tongue. As you slipped your tongue inside her, you decided that you would do whatever it took to always have Wanda within arms reach. You simply couldn’t fathom being separated from her for an extended period of time again, and you quickly lost yourself in the drug that was Wanda Maximoff. 

A trembling breath brought your attention back to the woman still sprawled on the sheets. Her legs trembled around your head as you slipped your tongue in and out of her still-leaking center. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally locked those viridescent green eyes on yours. As soon as you made eye contact, you smiled against her core as you brought your fingers up to circle her clit slowly. 

Pulling away, you licked the taste of Wanda from your lips as you slipped two fingers into her without warning. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you slowly started pumping your fingers, and Wanda’s eyes lidded as she attempted to keep her gaze on you. 

Smirking devilishly, you licked a slow circle around her swollen clit before placing a kiss directly on top of it. Resting your cheek against her inner thigh, you kept your gaze on her as the sounds of your fingers roughly slamming into her filled the room. Her slick juices spilled onto the sheets as your fingernails dug into her hip in an attempt to keep her hips in place. 

“I crave you, Wanda.” Your sultry voice tipped her further towards the edge, and Wanda threw her head back against the mattress as she let out a stream of curse words. 

You curled your fingers as you stroked that very sensitive spot inside her, pressing firmly into the spongy walls as you sucked her clit between your lips. Wanda’s back arched, and she practically lifted herself off the bed as she reached her climax once again. This time, you hummed against her as she rode out the aftershocks, and her third orgasm snuck up on her and ripped through her body like a wildfire. 

Throughout it all, you were relentless. Your fingers kept up their bruising pace as your lips chased her clit. You were starting to get light headed as Wanda’s legs squeezed your head, the hand in your hair not allowing you to escape her grasp. Wanda’s hips jerked against you, and she let out a few whimpers as the hand in your hair started pushing against your head. 

“Too much sweetheart, too much.” Wanda choked out, panting in relief when you finally pulled away. She let herself relax fully against the mattress, rolling away from the center of the bed when the damp sheets grew uncomfortable beneath her. You emerged from the small in-suite bathroom with a damp washcloth. Hushing her, you gently brought the warm washcloth to her slick skin as you cleaned her up. 

You couldn’t resist one final taste, and after swiping your tongue to collect the juices still flowing from her slit, you finished cleaning your girlfriend and collapsed on the bed beside her. 

“Well.” Wanda said, and you laughed at her inability to speak as she rolled into your side and buried her face against your bare shoulder. 

Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, you breathed in her familiar vanilla scent as she pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around her as she draped her legs over yours in an attempt to mold her body against you. You let a hand start running through her hair, detangling it slightly as she fully relaxed into you.

“I missed your laugh.” You said, and Wanda hummed against your shoulder. You began speaking again, your words filling the non-existent space between the two of you. “I missed the crinkle of your eyes whenever you smile at me, and I missed cuddling with you and watching sitcoms. I missed the breakfasts that you cook, and I missed putting away the dishes with you afterwards.” 

You laughed then, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I mean, who misses doing the dishes?” You snorted, burying your face back into Wanda’s hair. “Only a fool in love would miss doing the most mundane task.”

Wanda tilted her face until she was looking at you, her green eyes shining up at you. “You love me?” Her voice was colored in surprise, and her face turned hopeful. 

Blinking, you realize the words that had just slipped out. “I mean… yeah.” You began, running your fingers through her hair nervously as you met her wide green eyes. “I hope that’s alright, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back right now or anything, but yeah.” You trailed off, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks at your accidental admission. 

One of Wanda’s hands came up to rest against your cheek, and she tilted your flushed face back towards her. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly up at you. “I love you too sweetheart.” 

Your heart started pounding, and a wide smile broke out on your face as you excitedly started peppering Wanda’s face with kisses. “I love you too!” You exclaimed as she laughed, her hands wrapping around the back of your neck as she pulled you in for a proper, searing kiss. 

Pulling away after a few long seconds, you rested your forehead against hers as an uncontrollable grin overtook your lips. Time stood still as you both basked in the newfound confessions you’d made. Wanda’s fingers grazed your jaw, her touch gentle and grounding as your mind raced with excitement. 

In that moment, as your foreheads remained gently pressed together, you knew that this was the beginning of an exhilarating chapter of your life. One that Wanda would be by your side in, her hand pressed in yours as you faced the world and conquered any obstacles that may come your way. As you lingered in each other's gentle embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance, and you knew that you had finally found true love.

[baileypie-writes]

Can you do more Precure girls(you choose) x sunshine villain reader.

A/N ~ Sure! This came out pretty angsty, but it all turns out happy in the end. Hope you enjoy!

~Lie~

Go! Princess Pretty Cure + Sunshine!Villain!Reader

~~~👑~~~👑~~~👑~~~

Fandom: Go! Princess Pretty Cure

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Gender neutral, a villain

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,128

Synopsis: You’ve been friends with the Pretty Cure while disguising yourself for a while now. But after meeting the newly reformed Towa, she immediately saw through it; exposing your true identity to the others.

Warnings: Possibly OOC Kirara, rushed, everything happens pretty much out in the middle of town bc I didn’t realize it lol

~Masterlists~

~Go! Princess Pretty Cure Masterlist~

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As a member of Dys Dark, you shared the same goal as everyone else: capture dreams and fill the word with despair. Though this goal was rather sinister, your behavior and demeanor differed from the rest of your team. You were kind; serving as a ray of sunshine that glared into the eyes and hearts of anyone who met you. Well, except for your team.

Your relationship with them was nearly nonexistent. And the little interactions you had with them were less than great. Due to your personality, none of them liked you very much. They saw you as an annoyingly sweet pest. The only one who didn’t seem to care was your master, Dyspear. To her, as long as you were working towards your goal, she had no problems with the way you are.

One good advantage of your personality was that the Pretty Cure would never be able to suspect you. Who could, when your kindness contrasted with the ways of Dys Dark so much? Out of curiosity, you had managed to form a fairly close relationship with them. Of course, you disguised yourself, as to not be recognized as one of the servants of Dyspear. They seemed to have no idea who you truly were, even though you shared the same personality as the person they battled regularly. You didn’t have a plan to tell them your true identity. You were just doing it for fun. But you will admit, they’ve grown to be quite good friends of yours.

Unfortunately, when Twilight had been purified, it was only a matter of time before they found out.

~~~~

Keeping up with the moving bus from the school, all the way into town wasn’t easy. But with your speed and teleportation powers, you managed to follow it until it finally stopped. You eagerly waited for your group of friends to step out of the vehicle. After filing through the unimportant people, you finally caught sight of them. With a snap of your fingers, you put on your disguise, and went to talk to them.

The girls were all talking amongst themselves, most likely about school related things. When you quickly turned the corner, Haruka jumped.

“Ah! Oh, (fake name), it’s you. You scared me!” She laughed, embarrassed.

“Sorry!” You laughed as well. “It’s nice to see you guys in town!” The red haired girl in front of you, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, nearly made you lose your cool. But you managed to keep your composure. “And who’s this?”

“This is Towa Akagi! She’s new.” Kirara introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you!” You held out your hand for her to shake. But she just stared at you, as if she was examining you. A bead of sweat rolled down your cheek.

“(name)?” Towa’s eyes widened in realization.

You jolted. She’d seen through your disguise. You wanted to deny her, but your reaction was proof enough. Completely frozen, you waited for everyone else’s response.

All three girls looked back and forth between you and Towa, clearly confused. Minami clicked first, followed by Kirara, then Haruka. They just stared at you. You couldn’t tell what their expressions were supposed to be for a good moment.

“H-hang on. This can’t be true!” Haruka tried denying.

“Well, judging by (fake name)’s reaction, it seems to be.” Minami pointed out. All three stared at you, observing you.

“Is it true, (fake name)? Are you really (name)?” Kirara stepped forward. She was clearly upset now.

“Uh…” You had no clue what to say. So with a sigh of defeat, you just told the truth. “yes…”

Everyone made faces you did not want to see. Minami looked disappointed. Kirara looked angry. And Haruka looked devastated.

“So what? You’ve just been lying to us this whole time? Were you doing this to get information or something?” Kirara interrogated further, raising her voice.

“No! I just-“ You tried speaking. But Kirara didn’t let you.

“You ‘just’ what? What could possibly be a good reason to lie to us for this long?”

“Kirara, please calm down. Let them explain.” Minami placed a hand on her shoulder. Kirara stepped back, and quieted down. Everyone was waiting for said explanation.

“Well… I’m not really sure why I did it. I guess I was just curious. I wanted to get to know you outside of being Pretty Cure. But we ended up being friends.” You just told the truth. “I really didn’t mean for it to go on as long as it did. It just happened. But I really do enjoy hanging out with you guys. I wasn’t doing it for bad reasons, I swear!”

Everyone’s expressions remained nearly the same. Though Kirara’s became more skeptical.

“I’m really sorry.” You said softly.

Haruka stepped forward, her face still sad. “So you’re really our friend? You weren’t lying about that?” She looked as if she was about to cry. As if the possibility of you pretending to be her friend was the worst thing that could happen.

“Yes, I promise! I really do like you guys!” You assured.

“But how do you expect us to keep being your friend? Not only were you lying to us, but you’re a part of Dys Dark.” Kirara snarled.

You paused for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Haruka took hold of your hands, causing you to lock eyes with her. “But I don’t wanna stop being friends!” At this point, she was actually crying. “I don’t care what you are! You’re still a good person to me!” She pulled you in; hugging you tightly.

“But Haruka-“ Kirara tried reasoning with her.

“I agree. While (name) may be a part of Dys Dark, they’re still an overall good person.” Minami said. Kirara didn’t respond; not knowing what to say.

You noticed Towa just standing there, observing everything. You also realized that this was the first time you’ve seen her ever since she was reformed. Letting go of Haruka, you made your way over to her.

“Towa, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know about… you know.” You informed her, referring to her past before being Twilight.

“You were always so kind.” She smiled softly, remembering your past interactions.

“How is this even gonna work? We can’t really still be friends, right?” Kirara asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We can try.” You said. “I really enjoy being with you guys. It’d suck to not be able to anymore.”

“So…” Haruka started. She held your hand, smiling at you with her signature look of happiness and hope. “continuing to be our friend is your dream?”

You chuckled, smiling back. You didn’t believe in dreams. But if it made your friends happy, then you’d be glad to play along.

“Sure. You could see it as that.”

~~~👑~~~👑~~~👑~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[orqheuss]

Insatiable Gravity (Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

You tried to shove your way through their body blockade, annoyance seeping into your words. “What is this nonsense all about? No one’s sleeping on the floor, don’t be daft.” Seeing that their embarrassed stumblings were getting them nowhere, the Slytherin’s hung their heads and stepped aside so you could get through. Seeing the full extent of the room now, you were able to understand their trepidation. “Oh…” There was only one bed. *** When it rains, it pours, and when you and your two Slytherin boys get trapped in a downpour far away from the castle, your only hope at salvation is the little inn down the road. The problem, though? They only have one room available for the night, and the room only has one bed.

Word Count: 8k

Is this a shamelessly self indulgent piece where i let my mind go absolutely feral and write every conceived notion i had about the boys' physical appearance into existence? yes. yes it is. Enjoy.

Rain poured from the sky in thick sheets of water, coating every inch of the small muggle town the trio of students ventured to earlier in the day. The three of you found yourselves stuck under a shop awning, huddled away from the freezing cold droplets, scowls decorating each of your faces like the world had slighted you. The night cast an eerily blue opaqueness on the buildings, the only bits of color spawning from the illuminated windows of the cottages lining the streets. It had been Sebastian’s idea to travel to the muggle village in search for some possible remedies for his sister's curse; he had read something about herbal medicine in one of the many tombs littering the Hogwarts library. In your long search for a cure the sun had quickly set across the horizon, casting a slight glimmer of stars across the sky and bringing forth an onslaught of ink black cumulonimbus clouds and a diamond toned shower. The students knew that they would be stuck there until they were able to apparate away in the morning— it was forbidden to use magic where it could be possibly spotted by one of the muggles milling about. 

You cast your eyes to the boys next to you, taking in their forms against the pounding rain. Sebastian’s hair was slicked back for once, the tresses sopping wet like a sponge and curling slightly at the ends. He had pushed it back once you got out of the downpour, leaving his eyes to be on full display, shining even brighter under the low lamplight. His clothing fared just as well— cloak hanging off his shoulders like a heavily weighted blanket and his white button down near translucent under his green corduroy suit jacket. You felt color creep up your neck and onto your cheeks at the sight of his broad chest peaking through the slits of cloth. It was no secret that the brunette was attractive, many of the girls in your year had made that fact explicitly clear. There was an air about him that drew people in, a moth to a flame in his own way. He was the charismatic, mischievous type that somehow would become your fathers best friend. You can’t help the soft look that takes over your features; a small smile tweaks at the corners of your lips as you admired him in all his glory. His hand was resting on his head, his palm pressed against his hair and pushing back the curls so he could see through the inclement weather. As if feeling your gaze, he turns in your direction and the pools of amber that melt in his irises meet yours for a moment. Caught in the act, you quickly looked away and stared hotly at the stone floor below, your cheeks flowing a startling scarlet out of embarrassment. He snorted at your obvious admiration, turning away to look outwards into the storm once again with a toothy grin pulling at his mouth, his cheeks coloring his own shade of a light rosy hue. 

Risking a glance yet again, you look up through your eyelashes at the second boy, drinking in the form of a disheveled Ominis Gaunt. The normally prim and proper Slytherin looked quite similar to a drowned rat as of late, but much to your chagrin it somehow still suited him. His normally quiffed hair fell across his forehead, significantly longer than you had imagined, and cascaded into his eyes like a blond waterfall. The orange lights that lined the streets glowed in his eyes like brilliant little fires, blazing against his cornflower shaded irises and catching the streaks of lavender lightning that zigzagged in them. Even in the cloudburst that threw itself against the pavement, he still had an air of regality about him— the type of boy your parents hoped you’d marry one day. He oozed old money, from the intricate chained decals that clipped his cloak together to his silver snake cufflinks. The boy may not believe it— he was terribly modest— but he caught the female gaze just as much as the brunette he kept as close company. Your gaze locked on his taut shoulders, trailing from their curvature towards where his collarbones jutted out under his skin and created a lovely shelf atop his chest. The starry birthmarks that lined his body shone through his perfectly pressed shirt, also merely nothing more than a thin sheet thanks to the precipitation, and created a smooth trail down his fair skin from neck to wrist. You were stuck for a particularly long time on his biceps, the muscles that you very rarely saw straining against the satin fabric in a show of wry strength. He had shucked off his robe not long after the rain began, complaining of its weight, leaving him in just his button down and paisley embroidered forest green vest. You gulped deep in your throat, mouth suddenly very dry as you stared for longer than was deemed socially acceptable. The blond did not meet your gaze, unlike his counterpart, but you knew he could feel the heat of your ogling. Looking down once again, you could see a small smile turn the corners of his mouth and tips of his ears blush a soft rosacea out of the corner of your eye. 

You cleared your throat, casting your gaze back to the stout building across from you. The little inn’s windows were frosted over from the cold, the thick water droplets that raced down its panes leaving thin trails of clarity and light. Braziers lined the walls inside, glittering in the autumn night and flinging a radiant apricot-toned light along the puddles lining the streets. You shivered under your layers of drenched clothing, heavy vibrations wracking through your body and drawing the attention of the two boys flanking you once again.

You hesitantly spoke, teeth chattering and voice barely carrying itself into their ears because of the pounding rain. “We should turn in for the night— get out of the rain before we freeze solid. The inn looks like it still has some vacancies.” 

Sebastian made an unsure noise in the back of his throat, mouth stretching into a thin line. “I would prefer we just go back to the castle. It can’t be that far away, we made it by foot earlier.” 

Ominis spoke up from your other side, eyebrows knitted together in annoyance and tone scathing. “Are you the blind one, now? It’s pouring, you dolt. We wouldn’t be able to make it back if we tried, even in the daylight. Not to mention none of us know how to apparate yet, so we’d likely be stuck on bedrest for the next week sick as dogs.” He sighed heavily, milky blue eyes closing as he let his head fall backwards towards the roof. “I think the inn would be our best bet. Let’s just hope they’ll rent to us.” 

The brunette huffed to himself, arms crossing over his chest as he was out voted. The three of you steeled yourself to go back into the downpour, pulling your cloaks tightly around your bodies and hoods over your heads to try and avoid getting more wet. On the count of three, you all sprinted across the large courtyard separating your shelter from the inn. Ominis grabbed tightly onto your sleeve, letting you pull him along since he couldn’t use his location charm. The rain felt like tiny sharp stings against your cheeks; your cloak was unsuccessful keeping out the wet and the chill. 

Sebastian made it to the entrance first, throwing open the door with a loud bang and ushering the both of you indoors. The sudden temperature change once you crossed the threshold sent a shiver down your spine. A large ornate fireplace was tucked against the wall, swirling radiating heat throughout the whole bottom floor of the building and kissing your damp cheeks with a pleasant warmth. You were sure the three of you looked like a right sight— strange clothes hanging from your bones like you were draped in countless, very wet blankets, and dripping onto the wood floor below you. You tried to fix your appearance slightly, pushing your hair out of your eyes and attempting to straighten your top and skirt. The cloth stuck to your skin, making the task near impossible, and eventually you relented in your quest for proper etiquette. You pulled your cloak tighter against your body, shielding your surely see-through shirt from the ravenous eyes of the male hotel patrons. As if sensing your unease, Sebastian leveled his gaze into a glare and took a minute step in front of you, Ominis doing the same but to your rear. Shuffling like a conjoined unit, the three of you approached the front desk with a hope of sanctuary. 

The man in front of you was older, probably about the same age as Professor Weasley, and looked inviting enough to speak to. He smiled hesitantly at your trio, his eyes wracking up and down your sopping wet forms and taking everything you had to offer in. He spoke confidently, but with a question obviously lingering on the tip of his tongue. 

“How can I help you three?” 

Ominis took the lead, subtly shifting into his more prim and proper nature. “We would like to rent two rooms, please. We are traveling through and got caught in the rain; it would be unwise to continue on foot at this time.” 

The innkeep leveled a suspicious stare at the boy, letting his eyes roam from his milky, unseeing eyes to where his shoulder brushed against yours, then across your own form, sticking for a moment where your other shoulder touched Sebastian’s, and then finally up to the brunette’s stoic face. You certainly were an odd bunch. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “How old are you lot?” 

Ominis straightened his shoulders, standing to his full height and twisting his face into one of the most serious expressions you had ever seen cross his visage. “Old enough to rent a room for one night, I would think. Now, are you going to let my wife, her brother, and I rest after a very long day, or shall we turn our business elsewhere?” 

You fought the blush that threatened to creep up your neck. His wife? Oh Merlin, you were in trouble. Of all the lies to tell, why that one? Of all ways to try and make you seem older…

To your left, Sebastian’s face contorted more into a scowl. 

The blond reached into his cloak and pulled out a small satchel, tossing it onto the countertop before the hotel owner. It jingled as it fell— copper money clinking together in a rich little symphony. 

“I assure you, our coin is good.” 

The man looked shocked, eyes now flickering between the tall boy and the bag of riches. You could see the cogs turning in his mind as he thought about the best course of action— he tended to speak more with his eyes, you noted to yourself. The thought of money seemed to outweigh his qualms about renting to three very obvious teenagers as he reached forwards and grabbed the tiny bag. 

“Only got one room available. Take it or leave it.” 

The two boys stiffened at your sides, their minds filling with similar images of the three of you huddled close together for warmth. You could tell Ominis was about to object, and as hesitant as you also were you knew that there wasn’t another inn for miles. You quickly jumped into the conversation, to hell with what was normally deemed proper. 

“We’ll take it, right boys?” 

Quite frankly, you didn’t really care if they didn’t agree with sharing a room with you. The sweet song of a warm bath called to you like a siren, and you wanted nothing more than to dive deep under the water and let it envelop you. 

Grumbling under their breath, they both nodded their heads. You reached your hand out, taking the key from the kind man and followed in his footsteps as he led you to the room. 

After thanking the kind man again, you could barely make it two steps into the cabin before running into the strong backs of Sebastian and Ominis. They both stood stone-still in the entryway, eyes locked on something in front of them like a doe under the watchful eye of a hunter. Your eyes could only just peek over their shoulders, and upon placing your hands on their forearms as you stood on the tips of your toes, you could feel the heated blush creeping up under their clothes. Your eyebrows crested together in confusion. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

You could only describe the atmosphere around you as awkward as both boys cleared their throats and began stuttering out various forms of explanations and decisions about…sleeping arrangements? 

“I-it’s nothing! Don’t worry about it, w-we can figure something out—”

“We can sleep on the floor, i-if that would make everyone more comfortable. It’s only proper that the lady g-get the bed—” 

Merlin, you’d never heard them so shaken before.

You tried to shove your way through their body blockade, annoyance seeping into your words. “What is this nonsense all about? No one’s sleeping on the floor, don’t be daft.” 

Seeing that their embarrassed stumblings were getting them nowhere, the Slytherin’s hung their heads and stepped aside so you could get through. Seeing the full extent of the room now, you were able to understand their trepidation. 

“Oh…”

There was only one bed. 

Ominis spoke up from your side, his hand rubbing at the back of his very red neck. “As I said, we can sleep on the floor if that would make you more comfortable…” His sentence trailed off at the end, nervous about your possible reactions. 

Sebastian nodded his head to your left before catching your eye, causing him to turn his face away and admire the painting on the wall like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. You caught sight of the intense rouge on his cheeks before he was able to hide it, though. 

You sighed to yourself, closing your eyes tightly and fighting off the blush that threatened to color you from the top of your chest to the tips of your ears. You willed away the unseemly images that swam in your mind at the thought of the three of you tangled together on the very small bed. It was barely enough room for two people, let alone three— you’d be pressed as close as possible for the whole night, warm bodies linked together like an intricate knot. Heat pooled in your stomach at the thought of being in the middle of both boys, one pressed against your backside and the other against your front like a tantalizing sandwich. 

You cleared your throat, your mouth suddenly incredibly dry as you schooled your expression into one of neutrality, praying that they couldn’t read your ulterior motives on your face. “I-I’m fine with sharing if you both are. We’re friends— friends can share a bed for a night.” 

You didn’t think it was possible for Ominis to get any more red; any darker and he would resemble a fresh tomato. 

Sebastian heaved a shaky sigh, like he was trying to expel all of the uncouth thoughts and sheer nerves from his system, and cleared his throat again, already turning towards the en-suite bathroom down the tightly packed hallway. 

“I’ll follow your lead. Now, I would like to take a bath and get out of these wet clothes if that’s alright with you.” 

Your reply bounced harmlessly against his retreating form. “O-Okay!” 

Mere moments later, the sound of running water reached your ears. 

The remaining two of the trio stood there in a statue-like pause, stewing in their own personal wet dream for a moment with an uneasy, awful silence. You’d given up trying to shut your mind up by this point, instead trying to adopt a laissez faire attitude about the whole thing and ignoring the ache between your legs that screamed to be taken care of. Merlin, you had never been this worked up before, even in the comfort and privacy of your own room. One measly setback and you’d transformed into a prepubescent school boy!

Ominis was the first to break himself out of his stupor, shuffling around on his feet and dropping his jaw open and closed like a dying fish as he searched for the right words to say. He breathed deeply through his nose, steadying himself before gesturing with his hand towards the rest of the room.

“After you.” Always the gentleman, that one. 

You nodded, whispering a quiet thanks before stepping out of the cramped entryway. The room was scarce, just a single full bed and a rug adorning the wood floor. Some paintings were hung on the wall to make it seem more homely, but the effect honestly just made it seem even smaller. You sat on the mattress, testing the feel under you and the softness of the sheets. They were slightly rough against your hands, but nothing that would deter you from sleep for the night. The bed barely gave way to your weight— the thing had to be made of stone with how hard it was. Maybe the floor would actually be better, you mused to yourself. 

The blond cleared his throat for the upteenth time that night, drawing your attention towards where he leaned against the opposite wall. There really wasn’t much room in the space, if you stretched your foot a little bit further you could touch his. He looked away again, feeling your eyes on his skin— the attention from you felt like a million tiny hot pokers. 

“You should get out of those clothes.” Color flooded his face again once he realized what he said. “I-I mean because your clothes are wet! You could catch a cold— oh Merlin, I am so sorry, that came out entirely wrong—” 

His sentence pittered out at the sound of your giggle. The blond let his shoulders relax slightly, grateful you weren’t offended by his blunder. You stood, beginning to peel layers of your clothes from your body and letting them fall to the floor with a wet plop. Sitting back on the bed, now sans your cloak, blazer, vest, tie, and tights, you smiled mischievously in the boy’s direction, lightly teasing him.

“My, Ominis, if you wanted my clothes off all you had to do was ask nicely.” 

The blond laughed heartily, pushing off the wall and striding the small distance towards the bed, sitting down next to you and crossing one of his legs under him. He fell easily back into the playful banter you’d adopted since your first unfortunate meeting outside the Undercroft. 

“You’d like that, you vixen.” 

This time, his teasing had a different effect than normal— the intimacy of the situation not lost on your subconscious in the slightest. The air around you felt fraught with tension; he was suddenly much closer to you than what was normally deemed appropriate. He seemed to sense this as well, and his body tensed under your watchful gaze. You had jokingly flirted before, both with him and with Sebastian, but this was incredibly different. It felt different. Your hands were nearly touching on the bed, your knees brushing against each other from the angle of your bodies. Ever so slightly, you slid your hand along the bedspread, grazing your pinky against his, listening to his breathing hitch at the shock of your cold skin against his. Not a single breath could be heard in the space, all the blood rushing to your head and your pupils dilating at the barely concealed look of what you could only describe as want in Ominis’ eyes. 

Gods, did he want this as much as you did? Need you as much as you needed him? 

His hand inched the rest of the way, sliding over the top of your fingers and gripping them between his much longer ones. Your breaths mingled in the space between you, the warmth brushing across your freezing cheeks and curling around your pounding heart— the organ could rocket out of your chest at any moment, and you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care; you just didn’t want him to move away. On the contrary, the opposite happened— Ominis began to move closer. His breathing stuttered in his chest, a soft shaky sigh falling from his open mouth when he felt you do the same.

He licked his lips, eyes half lidded in desire. “We shouldn’t… Sebastian is in the bathroom.” 

You shifted closer, resting your other hand on his knee. Your voice was nothing more than a breath in the wind. “Of course…it wouldn’t be right of us.” 

Your faces inched closer and closer together, noses nearly brushing at this point. The pulsing in your ears muted everything else in the room, not alerting you to the sound of water draining out of the bathtub. What was startlingly loud, though, was the creak of the bathroom door slowly swinging open and Sebastian stepping into the room. The both of you jumped apart like the idea of your skin touching burned you. You quickly stood from the bed, ignoring the very confused brunette who was standing there in only his undershirt and boxers, and nearly sprinted to the washroom, mumbling that you would be taking your turn in the hot water now. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, you threw your face into your hands, groaning as quietly as possible. Why did you do that? You’ve been in love with those two idiots for a year at least, and now you choose to do something about it? Good lord, why now, why you, why them? You wanted to kiss Ominis in that moment more than anything else in the world, it was like his lips were calling to you in the sweetest voice you had ever heard before— curse Sebastian and his terrible timing! You wanted to throw something at him— a chair, yourself, you weren’t picky. 

The thought of the other boy sent your heart into even more of a tissy, thinking back to how scantily clad he was when you ran like a bat out of hell past him. Merlin, his shoulders, his arms, his thighs. Don’t even get you started on that slutty little waist of his. You were burning inside with arousal at the mere thought of him leaning over you, his tanned, heavenly freckled arms caging your head in on either side. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You quickly shed the rest of your clothes from your body, taking the time to fold your underwear and slip dress for later and placing them on the sink— everything else you kicked away into a pile next to Sebastian’s things. There was something so…domestic about your clothes mingled together on the floor. Stepping into the scalding hot water sent a lovely shock through your system, heating your freezing skin back to a normal temperature. The moan that left your throat was damn near sinful. You soaked in the water for a good while, letting the stress of the evening shed from you like the droplets of rain smacking against the windowpane. It was complete bliss, being alone with nothing but your thoughts and the sweet smell of the lavender soap that the inn provided. Your thoughts began to wonder again, thinking about what Ominis’ lips would have felt like against yours. They looked so incredibly soft, and you wondered if they would feel like kissing little tiny clouds— if they would be just as pillowy pressed against the rest of your skin. You closed your eyes and let your mind drift, allowing yourself the smallest bit of indulgence in your insatiable appetite. The picture behind your eyes shifted to Sebastian, how the rain ran down his neck, dripping down his pulse and pooling in the tiny dips of his collarbones under the translucent fabric of his collar. You wondered what the water would taste like on his skin. Would it be salty, like sweat? Mild, like rain normally was? Sweet, like the promise of more to come? You bit your lip against the small whine that threatened to leave your mouth, quickly pulling your hand away from where it began to bury in your naked core. No! You couldn’t do that right now, they were just outside the door! 

With the last little bit of self control you had left, you stood from your watery paradise and dried off with the towel hanging on the rack closest to you. You just had to get through this night, then you could go back to the castle and have as much solo fun as you wanted. 

The universe must have truly wanted you to die of embarrassment, because as soon as you left the sanctuary of the bathroom you ran into the scrumptiously sturdy chest of Ominis, causing him to grab you roughly by the hips so you didn’t go tumbling and press his entire body flush with yours. His heavy panting breaths were perfectly level with your ear at that angle, filling your mind once again with the tantalizing thoughts that you fought so hard to keep at bay. Your spine dug harshly into the door jam as you fell back from the velocity of the crash, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling of his fingers tightening against the silk of your shift and the look of intrigued confusion turning down his face at the unfamiliar feeling fabric. Merlin, his face was so close again. His hands glided up your waist, feeling each and every one of your curves like a ship captain charting out the stars, ever so lightly grazing the sides of your breasts before finding purchase on your bare shoulders. Only when his fingers dug deliciously into your skin and you gasped against him did he realize exactly how scantily clad you were. The blond made a noise very similar to a strangled kneazle and lept back, nearly crashing into the other side of the room. If eyes could speak, his would be screaming. Only now with him at arms distance did you notice the absolutely breathtaking pink that took over his entire face and neck, making his beauty marks stand out against his skin like brushstrokes by the finest painter in all the land. You shamelessly trailed your eyes down his chest again, watching it rise and fall from the sheer desperation of his lungs fighting to get air to his brain. Speaking of brains, your eyes made one last jump down to his trousers, finding the fabric pulled taut against his hips and silhouetting a quite lovely shape against his thigh— something you vaguely remember feeling against your own thigh moments ago. You swallowed the moan that threatened to tumble from your throat, your thighs clenching together slightly. You’d drop to your knees and pray at the church of him at that very second if you weren’t so damned shy. 

Ominis scrambled upright fully, dancing from foot to foot out of embarrassment before tripping into the bathroom, only turning slightly in the doorway to throw an apology in your direction. “Oh my— I just— I’m terribly sorry— I’m just going to— oh, Merlin—” 

The door closed with a slam, the lock twisting with a resounding click soon after. 

A dark-colored chuckle from your left drew your attention, twisting your neck towards the waiting Slytherin now man-spreading on the bed, a pillow pressed just so across his lap. The devilish smirk stretched further across Sebastian’s face at the barely concealed arousal that grew in your eyes. Your pupils flickered from his face down to the feather-down cushion, imagining the treasure that you could find underneath the layers of cotton and tuff. 

Somehow you were able to gulp against the Sahara Desert levels of dry that your mouth was at the current moment. 

The brunette patted the bed next to him invitingly, shifting slightly over out of courtesy as you stumbled over, your legs feeling like gelatin from a mix of the lust and exhaustion that mingled in your veins. His eyes never left yours as you sat, feeling him drink in the sight of you in nothing but your underclothes, dangerously dehydrated. 

“How was your bath?” He asked, a smugness you were very familiar with teasing knowingly in his voice. 

You giggled nervously, smoothing your hands down your thighs to wipe the sweat from your palms. “It was nice— very comfortable.” 

Sebastian chuckled again, his face leaning in closer to you like he was whispering a secret. “It certainly sounded like it.” 

It felt like your heart was beating at a mile a minute. Where did this confidence come from all of a sudden? What happened while you were in the bathroom? 

You thought back to the tent in Ominis’ trousers, casting your gaze back down to the pillow adorning Sebastian’s lap. 

There was absolutely no way. Surely not? 

Sebastian answered that question for you when he rested his hand on your thigh, smoothing his fingers up and under the silk fabric slightly and rubbing his thumb against your sweltering skin. “I can say with complete honesty that we also enjoyed your bath.” 

You’d drowned in the bathtub, that had to be the answer for this fever dream— that was the only answer to this sudden shift in personality by your ravenous brunette friend. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive, lick you down to the bone and suck the marrow from inside like a perfectly cooked t-bone steak. You could tell he still had some restraint about him from the way that he fisted the bed sheets he was leaning his other arm on, keeping his body upright and stopping him from all but throwing you onto the mattress and devouring you like his favorite meal. Heat continued to pool more and more in your core, your abdomen tightening against the pleasure pulsing in your lower stomach. 

“S-Sebastian—”

He plowed through your sentence, his niceties and manners giving way to the carnal desire throbbing under his skin. “That being said, I’m sure we could have even more fun out here, couldn’t we?” 

His hot breath fanned across your face like a delectable fire, turning your insides to mush and threatening to do the same with your rational thought. You placed your hand against the center of his very toned chest— Merlin— and pushed him away slightly, inhaling air into your shivering lungs like it was your job. 

“Sebastian, Ominis is right there. We can’t—” 

He scoffed, dragging the hand on your thigh the rest of the way under your slip and wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to him harshly, causing you to lose your balance and press as close as possible to him. He leaned his face upwards, something unfamiliar but dangerous glittering in his irises as he whispered in your ear— his sinful smile pinning against the edge of your jaw. 

“I assure you, he liked it too, lovely. I don’t think he’d be opposed to some…” He bit lightly at your earlobe, a soft moan breathing from your lips at his intrusion. “…auditory stimulation.” 

Fuck it. Restraint never did you any favors, anyway. 

He leaned his head downwards towards where your neck met your shoulder, nosing at the soft skin there before letting his teeth run gently against your pulse point. You moaned in earnest this time, not caring one bit if the blond behind the door mere feet away could hear you. 

Good, you thought. Let him hear. 

A loud crash came from the bathroom, startling Sebastian enough that he thrust his head upwards, catching on your chin painfully. You hissed, cradling the bruised bone in your hands as he quickly apologized, turning his full attention to the closed door just beyond. Ominis threw the door open, not even flinching when the door handle violently slammed against the wall, creating a dent in the drywall. 

The blond stood there in all his glory, his chest heaving even harder now and a color closer to a ripe dragonfruit covering every inch of his skin. He had obviously just gotten out of the bath; his hair hung low in his face and dripped water steadily on the shoulder of his white undershirt. He too had taken everything off except his underclothes, his boxers hugging his hips in an absolutely scandalous way that made you want to rip them off then and there and get to the appetizing muscle tenting the fabric— Gods, he can never wear clothes around you ever again. Fighting your eyes to stop ogling the poor man, you cast your gaze to the floor just behind his feet, seeing a long bar of metal still rolling slightly against the tile and the towel that was once wrapped around it. On the wall where there was once a towel rack was now barren, just two holes decorating the space where it once lived. With one final eye flick, you look at Ominis’ hand closest to the scene of the crime, noticing that his fingers were a bright red from all the blood returning to the flesh. The puzzle pieces connected together in your brain after a few sluggish, very horny seconds. 

Oh. Oh my. Ominis heard everything that just happened. Not only did he hear it, he liked it so much he accidentally ripped the towel rack off the wall with his desperation to open the door and hear it without the door muffling your sounds. 

Sebastian must have come to the same conclusion as you, because his grin doubled in size with each passing second as he undressed the flustered blond with his eyes. “Ominis, what’s wrong—” 

The once regal Slytherin crossed the room faster than you had ever seen him move before, quickly feeling his way up the brunette’s arm before grasping at his neck, pulling him closer and crashing their mouths together in a show of more teeth than lips. Sebastian responded eagerly, groaning low in his chest and threading his fingers in the wet tresses of his friend, pulling the blond closer against him in an awkward angle. You stared wide-eyed at the sight before you, watching your two best friends devour each other in a clash of lips and tongue, listening to the unseemly sounds that flowed in the air around them. You couldn’t help the feeble whimper that escaped your parted lips, drawing the attention of the esurient heir of Slytherin. Sebastian whined as Ominis pulled away from the embrace, only to choke on the sound at the sight of the blond surging forwards towards you with just as much ferocity as before and capturing your lips into an equally bruising kiss. His tongue dove into your open mouth, taking your invitation to explore with grandeur and mingling the soft muscle with yours. You fisted at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer and shifting backwards on the bed, pulling him downwards with you until he was laying on top of you. One of your hands reached up and buried itself in the thick blond locks of the one absolutely inhaling the sweet taste of your lips like the boy before did, your other falling to his waist and pushing underneath the hem of his shirt, running your palm across the hot skin of his stomach. All inhibition and propriety was thrown out the window just as fast as the downpour fell from the sky outside. 

A third hand joined the fray— Sebastian’s resuming his original journey up the side of your underclothes and reaching your stomach, pushing the fabric up your supple thighs until it pooled at your waist, leaving your white cotton panties on show for all the world to see. He groaned in pain at the sight of the obvious wet patch right in the center, diving his face towards your open and inviting neck and biting at the skin there. You keened into Ominis’ mouth, arching your back off the bed and pressing the puddle of molten lava that resided between your legs against the blond’s hard length. He moaned heavenly against your lips, kissing his way down your cheek and jaw until he too latched his teeth onto your neck like his Slytherin counterpart. You were in absolute bliss, your brain shutting off and losing itself in the sweet pleasure that coursed through your entire body. This alone was going to kill you, and you would happily die in this battle of tongue and teeth. 

May Odin take you into his waiting arms as you enter through the gates of Valhalla— this was certainly a war worthy for the land of kings and queens. 

Everything was a rush of emotion, all feelings that had been buried deep down in your souls surging to the surface in one grand swoop. Laying there, a tangle of limbs and underclothes and sugar-scented breaths felt like it was exactly where you belonged in the world. With one head on each side of your neck, you could easily reach up and pull them by the hair closer into your orbit— you the sun and them the lowly planets revolving around your devastatingly bright euphoria. 

You’d be perfectly content letting them worship you like this for the rest of time, but Ominis was always a bit more greedy than Sebastian when it came to the desires of the senses. The blond slowly made his way down to your chest, only stopping to pull your clothes from your body before diving right back into your soft, pillowy hereafter. He found your breasts quickly, letting his skilled hands first squeeze the flesh before tweaking your nipples, making them stand to a perfect peak before latching his mouth to the button and sucking. Your back lifted off the bed more, pathetic whines and mewls tumbling from your throat every so often, only to be broken up by whimpers of your companions' names. Sebastian smiled wickedly against your pulse, continuing to bite and nibble at the skin there as the hand not busy wrapped around your throat reached down and pawed at your other, very neglected mound of flesh. He wanted to only hear those sounds from then on out— wanted to hear even more of them.

Ominis pulled off of your peak with an absolutely raunchy pop, pressing one of his arms against your hips when he felt you grind against his throbbing length as your lovers pleased you. He nipped lightly at the skin in between your mountains, nosing gently at your sternum and whispering against your ribs. 

“None of that yet. Let us take care of you, darling.”

Your heart stopped for a full five seconds— goodbye cruel world. Cause of death: horny boy with a penchant for people-pleasing.

You sighed shakily, your words stuttered and soaking in flustered arousal. “O-Okay…”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest and shaking against you. “Good. You sound so beautiful like this. What I would give to see you spread out below us— my hands can only just suffice my craving.” 

A particularly loud sob falls from your lips at the feeling of Sebastian tweaking your nipple with just the right amount of pressure. “Am I dreaming?” 

It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh, his breath warming the skin of your collarbone. “I really hope not, because then all three of us would be dreaming the same thing. We don’t need Professor Onai to see that in our crystal ball, do we?” 

You rolled your eyes with a huff. “You know what I me— oh fuck!” 

In your blissful haze, you didn’t feel Ominis kiss his way down your body and situate himself between your thighs until he licked a long stripe along the dripping crotch of your panties. The brunette teasing you groaned again in agony at the sight of the other Slytherin’s thoroughly mussed up blond quiff poking out from between your inner thighs. 

With a renewed vigor, Sebastian helped the blond pull your panties down your legs, latching back onto your neck like a leech once the offending fabric was far away from where his hands could roam. Ominis kneeled on the bed, face level with your sweltering center and breathing in the sweet, musky scent of your pleasure. Merlin, you were a goddess— your beguiling center the most saccharine ambrosia to him. He was sure if he ate you how he wished he too would become a god. You reached your hand down, fisting his hair between your trembling fingers and tugging lightly at the root, whining for him to move, to do something. You needed him on a biblical level. After centuries of waiting, Ominis repeated his movement from before, diving into your oceanic sea and lapping at your waves like Poseidon himself. 

You’d never known pleasure like this before— never known indulgence like this before. He flicked his tongue against the painfully hard knot at the top of your center, pushing your clit lightly with just enough pressure before taking it into his mouth and suckling lightly. Stars burst behind your eyes, filling your world with supernovas dyed the color of your partners’ eyes. 

Desperate to make them both feel good too, you reached your free hand towards Sebastian, wrapping your fist around his throbbing member that hung so nicely near your face and pulling it out of the strangling fabric of his boxers. He whined at the cool air against his scorching skin. One of your legs was thrown over Ominis’ shoulder, allowing the boy to get a better grip of you as he wolfed you down like a man starved and allowing you the ability to press his hips closer to the bed, grinding his manhood against the knitted blankets. His resulting moan, more of a growl if you had to be specific, sent vibrations right to the knot that was building in your lower stomach, tightening it closer to its inevitable snap. Sebastian’s eyes never left the scene before him as he sat up to his knees, wrapping his hand around yours and showing you how he liked to be touched as you bathed in the throes of rapture. Soon moans came from the both of you as you picked up on the rhythm, your voices harmonizing like a melodic hymn at the pews of gluttonous lust and stalling the gears turning in the brain of the blond between your legs. He began to shamelessly rut against the mattress below his hips, letting your leg press him down closer and providing an otherworldly amount of pressure against his still clothed cock. The friction pushed the band of his underwear down more and more with each thrust until his member was finally free. His bare skin against the vaguely soft blankets the inn provided felt astronomically better than before. 

At the sound of Ominis’ self pleasuring, the cries of the people he loved so shamefully before in just the comfort of his mind becoming so much for him to handle that he couldn’t wait one more moment to feel something against his agonizingly hard cock, you pull Sebastian closer by his member, hoping he got the message you were trying to convey without words. He luckily did, a hungry look taking over his expression as he got off the bed, pulling your body closer to the edge so your mouth was exactly level with him. He groaned when he felt your soft lips close around the pulsating pink tip of his shaft, your tongue flicking against the prominent vein that stretched from the top to the bottom. Ominis moaned again against your clit, hearing what was going on above him and grinding his member against the bed with more vigor than before, causing you to rock your hips harshly against his face and pull more of Sebastian into your throat. The brunette couldn’t hold back his inhibitions anymore; with a firm grip he wrapped his hand around your neck for a second time that night, using the leverage provided to fuck into your mouth slowly. 

No words needed to be said by anyone involved, each of you taken over by pure, wanton frenzy. Being used by Sebastian was a religious experience in itself, and you just a devout follower eager to please— Ominis your angel from above, pouring devotion into his every move, rewarding you for a job well done. 

Your muted hums quickly became louder against Sebastian’s cock when Ominis pressed a digit into your weeping hole, stretching you just right and curling against the spot that made you believe heaven was real. The combination of your throat vibrating against him and your tongue flicking just under the ridge of his head was all it took to do him in indefinitely, his hips stuttering in your velvet mouth and the hand not wrapped around your throat tugging at your hair, trying to pull you off of him. You held on tighter, your free hand gripping his thigh and keeping him right where he was. 

Absolutely not. 

Sebastian’s eyes rolled back into his head when you closed your lips tighter and sucked, sending profanities to pour from his mouth like a broken faucet. 

“Oh fuck— Yes, Merlin, just like that— Shit, I’m gonna cum. Take it all for me— good girl—” 

You caught every drop of his salty release as it slid down your throat, letting your legs squeeze tighter against Ominis’ skull at the sweeter-than-candy whine that released from the brunette above you. 

With one partner spent, you were determined to meet him soon in his little death and take the other Slytherin with you. With the last bit of your strength, you grinded against Ominis’ face, chasing the orgasm that crested just under the surface of your skin. The blond did the same with a muffled growl, pulling you tighter against his frantic mouth and letting you suffocate him in your enticing embrace as he rutted his hips against the mattress to near completion. With one more strong suck on your clit, timed perfectly with a curl of his finger inside of you, you tumbled over the edge of your metaphorical cliff. Sebastian thought through his orgasmic haze that nearly everyone in the inn must have heard your screaming finish. Ominis followed you soon after, his release staining the sheets below him as your thighs tightened impossibly more against his ears as your climax ripped through your system. 

The three of you crumpled together onto the bed, tangled in a messy knot of limbs and desperately needing a second bath as you fought off exhaustion just enough to climb under the covers. Once the blanket covered all of your naked forms, you dozed off into a pleasant slumber, one arm slung over the waist of the brunette cradled in your shoulder and the other hand resting on the crossed forearms of the blond hugged against your back. Conversation could happen tomorrow; for now, the night was growing old and you needed all of your energy for the trek home tomorrow. 

As you were drifting off into dreamland, you thought to yourself that the soft sound of the rain against the shuttered windows of the inn was the most peaceful sound you had ever heard. 

I think I let the religious trauma go a little too wild with this one, whoops.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[ageofevermore]

SO SCARLET IT WAS

REQUEST — can you do a blurb of Wanda and reader? where reader has been sending wanda love letters anonymously. in the end it's revealed it was reader and wanda asks why they would do that when they are already married

WARNINGS — mentions of canon age of ultron events, mentions of canon civil war events, mentions of natasha’s death in endgame although very brief for my own sanity more then yours, parent clint and nat although it’s more nat focused, fluff to the max

AUTHORS NOTE — i don’t wanna talk about how this was supposed to be a blurb. also, for the sake of this timeline, wandavision is genuine not a scripted reality. wanda and reader did everything the right way and found a life together in westview

AGE OF ULTRON

You shouldn't have fallen in love so easily, especially not with her, you were a trained Avenger for thors sake, love was supposed to be at the bottom of your priorities barrel. That was easier said than done, because from the very first time that your eyes met across the battlefield, everything inside of you froze, skipped, and stuttered all at once. You should’ve been alert enough to detonate the blast before it could wound Clint, usually you were steps ahead of it, but her eyes were absorbing all the explosions around you and the soft watercolor green was alight with fireworks so beautiful you couldn’t look away. After that, you stood no chance of ever clearing her from your head. Even if she was supposed to be the enemy, even if you’d never experienced love before. Nat and Clint gave you the benefit of the doubt at first. You never missed your mark on a mission, but the cold temperatures and the fact that Helen said your heart rate was alarmingly high for your average bpm had given them the slightest indication that something was bothering you. That maybe, you hadn’t been so recovered from your history with Hydra as they thought. So, they sent you back to therapy.

Truthfully, therapy distracted you from her for a while, revisiting your past could distract you from anything for a short amount of time, but then you started having dreams. Not the nightmares that tickled your belly and drenched you in sweat and had you knocking on Natashas bedroom door at three in the morning looking for evidence that you really had been saved, but dreams of what ifs that all included her. Dreams where Natasha and Clint weren't the ones who found you barely clinging to life in an abandoned facility in Russia, dreams where it was her. That should’ve been the second indicator that you were never going to escape the curse she laid upon your heart without a single word. But you still tried to convince yourself that you could get over this, that you could see straight with clear judgment.

When she got inside of Natasha’s head the second time you crossed paths, you should’ve been enraged. You should’ve been cured of any delusion you harbored in your heart, but the attack only made you hurt for her. If things had played out differently, if Natasha and Clint had found her like they’d found you, maybe she wouldn’t be the enemy. If Natasha and Clint hadn’t found you, maybe you’d have ended up in her shoes, afraid to go against the only orders you knew. In moments like these, where Natasha’s half unconscious lost in her mind, and Clint is rolling in panic, and Tony is enraged and defeated, you seem to be the only one aware enough to recognize that maybe this is all she knows. That maybe, she’s just trying to not to get hurt again.

Natasha sees your feelings for what they are a few hours after landing at the farm. You had been sorting through your small selection of clothes that Laura organized in the back of the guest room closet while Natasha took a shower. You wanted to find something loose that didn’t irritate the healing wounds on your side from the first mission, but you were so far in your head you’d looked at the same shirt four times without realizing. Natasha had watched the entire event unfold, and like she never could when it came to you, fought feelings of rage and pride. You are the closest thing she’s ever going to have to a daughter, and watching you fall in love with someone so dangerous, she doesn’t know what the appropriate reaction is.

“You like her.” The assassin's tone was even, not giving away if she felt one way or another about the predicament you’ve landed in, but keeping her posture open so you wouldn’t shut down like you had a habit of doing. She and Clint knew you like the back of their hand, how had it taken them this long to realize you weren’t just reeling at the confrontation of your past, but falling in love with the enemy. You hadn’t even noticed she was still in the room with you, and that the shower water hadn’t been running at all. Every muscle in your body tensed, you were caught, and this could only go so many ways.

“I'm sorry.” With wide eyes, you faced your mentor who had become like a mother to you in the last decade. You weren’t a kid with heavy PTSD anymore, you had overcome most of it, not without extensive work and self-reflection, but for the most part, you were just an ordinary teenage girl who saved the world on occasion. That’s what Clint and Natasha saw when they looked at you. That wasn’t the girl Natasha was looking at now. She was staring eye to eye with a child tortured by Hydra. A child without family and without confidence in herself. A child who thought she was about to be hurt.

In that moment, Natasha abandoned the rage she was clinging onto in her belly. At that moment, Natasha decided to lean into her pride, to just be your mother instead of your mentor. You had found somebody you cared about, and as your mother, she would be elated to help you recognize that feeling without holding onto the shame you were undoubtedly forcing yourself to remember. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Malyshka.”

“She’s the enemy! She hurt you, she-she could’ve killed Clint!” You spluttered, trying to reason with yourself that this wasn’t a good thing. That you were insane for trying to redeem a girl who had almost torn apart the only family you have.

Natasha forced herself to see the situation from your shoes, something she admittedly should’ve done from the get. She forced herself to remember that you had been with Hydra for six years of your life, that had she and Clint not found you, you might’ve ended up on the same field with Wanda playing against them. She never wanted to think about that possibility, never wanted to think about how little her life would mean without you, but in another universe, she’s sure that's how it played out. “She’s just a kid who doesn’t want to get hurt. But you didn’t fall in love with the enhanced, did you?” Natasha asked, and your cheeks flushed so violently scarlet they were almost maroon, almost the same deep shade as the magic tendrils that danced between your crushes fingers. “When the blast hit Clint, you were frozen. I thought you were stuck in a flashback, that the cold had brought you back to that abandoned base, that wasn’t it, was it? You were looking at her. You were seeing her as a person, not a weapon. Something we all should’ve done a lot sooner.”

“She has the greenest eyes, Nat. But-but after the blast hit Clint, she-she was so scared. She’s just trying not to get hurt. Something happened to her, I think she’s still scared because of it.” You admitted, tears welling in your eyes at the possibility of her getting hurt at your hands, because at the end of the day, you would never sacrifice Clint and Nat for her. At the end of the day, your side was with the people who raised you.

“Whatever you choose, Clint and I support you.” Natasha hated that her voice shook with tears, she hated that you were growing up, she hated that you were being shoved into a corner where you had to pick between finding out who you were as a person, or being an Avenger.

At the mention of your mentor who was like a father, your chest grew tighter. She almost killed him. She almost took him away from you, from his kids, from his wife. How would he ever forgive you for choosing her? “She almost killed him, Nat.”

“You will never, never lose us. Get that thought out of your head, right now.”

You sniffled, shuffling your feet against the carpeted floors to feel something other than stabs of aching pain in your chest. How did you end up here? “I don’t blame Clint if he doesn’t forgive her. If it comes down to his life or hers. I don’t blame him if he chooses to live.”

“Malyshka, I could’ve shot him the first day I met him. There is not an ounce of self-preservation in his bones. He sees the good in people too easily to just give up on them. Just like you. If it comes down to him or her, he’s choosing the both of them. You know that as well as I do.”

“Nat?” You asked softly after silence had fallen over the two of you for a beat, her words circling your head and your heart on a loop. When your mentor hummed, you spoke again, this time admitting what you’d been trying to deny. “I think I love her.”

CIVIL WAR

You didn’t want to believe what you were hearing. You didn’t want to believe that half of your team and mentors had signed the accords, that they had agreed with Secretary Ross to an extent and therefore fed into the bullshit propaganda that the enhanced were dangerous. You were almost enhanced. If Hydra had succeeded, you would’ve been all the same as Wanda and the new vigilante Spiderman. Had they forgotten that? Did they really only see Wanda for her powers? Not for the teenage girl that had lost her parents and her brother and been manipulated and abused and used as a test-subject? Had they just let that slip their mind so easily?

You hadn’t left Wanda’s side since Natasha broke the news to you. Almost a year had grown between now and the events of Ultron, and the former was trying her best to fit in, to make up for all the red in her ledger at the hands of Hydra. She was making leaps of improvement, but that still wasn’t enough. She was still just another enemy in the eyes of Secretary Ross, and he had asked you to do the impossible. Choose a side. Why was everyone making you choose a side?

Wanda tried not to let you see how much this was upsetting her, but from the moment you saw her across the battlefield you’d been able to read her like she was your favorite book. When she held you at night, you could feel how tense she was. When she walked around the compound, you could see how uncomfortable she felt and how she wanted to just melt away and not exist. It broke your heart, but once again, you’d been put in a situation where you couldn’t do anything to help. A situation where the majority saw you as just a kid unfortunate enough to have no real family.

“Let's run away.” You suggest one night when you’re wrapped up in nothing but a thin blanket and Wanda’s arms, far far away from reality and for this one single moment in time, it’s just the two of you. Just Wanda and Y/N. There aren’t any superpowers, or any Avengers level threats, or United States government officials trying to control them like objects the same way Hydra had. It’s just them. Just two teenagers broken by life and in love.

“To where.” Wanda hummed, her lips flush against your neck as she fought sleep to instead spend this moment with you. The vibration of her voice tickled your belly in the sweetest way you had ever experienced, and a flush spread across your cheeks so scarlet in color it was almost maroon.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Ohio. I hear it’s the best place to create your own reality.” You admit shyly, picking up the cold hand that's draped across your midsection, and beginning to play with her fingers and pull at her knuckles to hear them crack the way she loves, especially after training sessions with Natasha where their main focus had been working on controlling her magic. Secretly, you love the way her muscles contract after her knuckles pop and how she involuntarily squeezes your hand in hers. Secretly, its not a secret at all.

Wanda lets you play your game, knowing your intention but having never shared her knowledge with you. She finds it cute how eager you are to feel her, even in ways as innocent as this moment. And secretly, although it's no secret to you, she loves feeling you all the same. She loves coming up behind you and hugging you tightly, she loves when you just lay against her and shudder every time her breath tickles your neck, she loves when it's just the two of you in a moment as nothing more than girlfriends. “What would we be in this reality?”

“Fiances.”

Wanda snorts, laughing so hard the muscles in her belly tighten and her face goes scarlet. “We’re a little young for that, detka.”

“Childhood lovers. We would’ve been best friends since Kindergarten. You would’ve asked me to be your girlfriend in the fifth grade, after I failed a spelling test and wouldn’t stop crying. I would have said yes without a pause. We would’ve never broken up, and our parents would have loved it. Pietro would’ve teased us, but he would be happy for you. And when we graduated high school, you would’ve gotten down on one knee right then and there. We wouldn’t waste a single moment. And Nat and Clint would be elated. Your parents would call me their daughter. It would be perfect, our life in Ohio. Nobody would bat an eye at how young we are, because love doesn’t know numbers, it just knows feelings.”

Wanda sniffled, wondering how she could get so lucky to have you. “Would we have kids?”

“Two. Twins. I would think they were girls the entire time, and I would ask that we name them Natalia and Lauren, but you would know that they were boys. You never told me that, but when they were born you’d tell me you dreamt it. Two boys, William and Thomas. We’d call them Billy and Tommy. They’d be just like you. Stubborn and silly, but the sweetest angels. Our life would be complete.”

“And we’d raise them in Ohio?”

You shook your head, twisting in Wanda’s arms so you could see her watercolor eyes. Even without explosives lighting up the room, there are fireworks in them. “I would find us the perfect plot in New Jersey. We would build a home for them, where they could just be kids, and we could be the cool moms who host sleepovers and invite the entire town to birthday parties. Nat and Clint would visit on holidays, and they’d be sad that we moved away, but they’d be so happy for us. We would be so happy.”

ENDGAME

How could this be happening? How could you spend five years without the woman you love, and the second you have hope of getting her back, lose the woman who was the closest thing you had to a mother? How could you gain the weight of hope, and lose it in seconds. Five years without Wanda was agonizing, but you never feared for a second that you wouldn’t get her back. You had lost too much to give up, and when Tony had come to the compound, saying he found a way to get everyone back, how did you not know that you would lose everything all over again? How had you let his words sound like a fairytale? Why was the world always sacrificing the things that completed you? Why did you think for a second you could ever be completely happy?

WANDAVISION (wandayn sounded wrong)

“This is the sixth letter I’ve found since Monday!” Wanda was exasperated, coming into the kitchen with her arms full of babies and letters. Her messy red hair was tied back, away from her face, no doubt due to the fact that Billy and Tommy had just entered a phase where they loved to grab and yank at your hair if you left it down and in reach.

“Oh? What’s this one say?” You quizzed, brushing flour off of your hands and grabbing the dishrag. The kitchen was a disaster as you attempted to bake a cake for the twins first birthday, but you couldn’t care less about the mess as you took in the sight of your wife. She looked absolutely ethereal, with hair so red it was almost maroon and love in her eyes so exuberant it was like a never ending firework show.

“Something about how I complete them!” She was completely at her end with these letters, and the anonymous slash at the bottom that gave away nothing about who it could be from. The both of you had come a long way since mourning Natasha and finding a life for yourself in New Jersey, and the last thing Wanda wanted was somebody tearing apart everything that was finally good. That was finally easy. You both deserved this more than anybody else.

Your eyes sparkled mischievously, a glint of something chaotic catching Wanda’s attention. “They’re from you, aren’t they!” She gasped, handing you Tommy when he started to fuss, and adjusting Billy now that her other arm was free. You giggled, looking for an escape route but your moment was short lived as Wanda came closer and her hips pinned you to the island. “Why!”

“I’m in love with you. I thought you should know.” You answered simply, although it was so much more than that. Losing Natasha hadn’t been easy for either of you, leaving the Avengers was almost harder, because it was the last piece of Nat you had left, but you knew that she would’ve wanted this for you. She would’ve wanted you to be happy, to have a family, to find everything she wasn’t able to find because of her past. The life you lived now, as much as it was for yourself and for Wanda, it was for her and all that she had given to you.

“We’re married!” Wanda beamed, “I already knew you loved me!”

You giggled, leaning up to kiss her sweet scarlet lips, but a baby hand kept you from kissing her. “Do you want a kiss, Tommy? Do you want some love?” You giggled, showing his tiny palm in kisses before moving on to do the same thing to Billy, wondering how you had come so far from battlefields in only a decade.

[fandomnerd9602]

Doubts & Affirmations

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Petra Parker couldn’t believe her luck. She was T-minus five weeks from marrying you, the son of Tony Stark. Every time she held up her wedding dress to her chest, she got giddy. She couldn’t help but smile. Here she was anticipating the date of her wedding, with high school out of the way and a home to live in while she would do college classes and afternoon patrols with you, it appeared like her life was all set before her.

And then came the knock at the apartment door. Aunt May answered it and a familiar European voice answered, “hello Mrs Parker, may I speak with Petra?”

Petra walked down the hallway and came face to face with Wanda Maximoff. "Wow the Scarlet Witch," the spider woman couldn't help but smile, "what brings you by?"

Wanda looked a little uneasy but also happy, "I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement to (Y/N)."

"Thank you"

"I promise you, you won't regret your life with Stark. (Y/N) was such a sweet boyfriend to me"

"Right" the color drained from Petra's face, "you and him were dating before we got-"

"Oh no" Wanda tried to say, "don't see in that way. I've seen the way (Y/N) looks at you and its beautiful"

"Really?" Petra's heart was aching a little despite the reassurance. Was she just some sort of rebound? Did you really love her?

"(Y/N) is undoubtedly in love with you" she smiles and leaves a small gift on the table, "I-I have to go now. But I hope to see you and (Y/N) soon."

For Petra, she couldn't shake the feeling in her heart. Was she really the one that you loved? Or did some small part of you still yearn for Wanda?

"Petra?" Aunt May asked, trying to get through to her niece. "Honey?"

"I-I need to go for a little fresh air" she quickly slipped on her costume and swung out of the window and into the open air of the city. The mask kept her eyes from getting more teary than they already were.

Petra landed on the precipice of the Empire State Building. She took to sitting down and just gazing out over the city. Her mind was racing with thoughts of anxiety and doubts over her impending nuptials to you.

The only thing to interrupt her train of thought was the sound of metal landing behind her. You stepped out of your power suit and sat down next to her.

"Petra? Baby what's wrong?" you tried to give her her space, fighting every urge to just wrap her in a hug right then and there.

"Am I a rebound?" she whispered out.

"What?"

"Do you still love her? Wanda." Petra locked eyes with you. "I-I wouldn't be angry if you still did. I mean she's great and beautiful and magical and-"

You gently took a hold of her chin, making her lock eyes with you. You just gazed into her chocolate brown eyes. In that moment, you made her feel like she was the only girl in the entire world.

"It's you I love." you whispered back, "maybe some part of me loved Wanda when she dumped me for Vision but as soon as you said yes to my accidental proposal..." you chuckled, "I knew I was 100% unabashedly, undoubtedly in love with you"

Petra began to cry. A little happy giggle escaped her lips.

"It's you, my spider monkey" you smiled, "I don't want anyone else. I just want you. You as my wife, my love, my soulmate, my everything"

"You're my everything" she whispered back. She only broke eye contact to look to your lips and then back to your eyes.

You took the hint and pulled her close, kissing her gently. Every doubt that lingered in Petra's mind was immediately wiped away. She pulled you as tight as she could, clinging to you for dear life.

You were her oxygen, her cure, her soothing balm. Sadly the need for oxygen became too great. You pulled away and leaned your forehead against hers.

"I love you" you whispered into her hairline.

"I love you" she giggled.

"The wedding date can't get here soon enough" you giggled back.

"We have all the time in the world" Petra whispered back. And in that moment, it felt like a promise. A promise to never leave one another's side, to never look at another the way you looked at each other.

It was an affirmation that this marriage was gonna be one for the history books.

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacelion @deafeningsharkslimeempath @konstantin609 @aloneodi @abimess @holiday-house-of-m @family-house-of-m @supercorpdanbeau @revanshand @russianredassassin @iamnicodemus @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[pholla-jm]

Jealousy Fits You

IMAGINE: JEALOUSY FITS YOU ~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF (MAYBE A BIT SUGGESTIVE) WARNINGS: SLIGHT CURSING? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro wasn’t really of the jealous type. He had complete trust in you. Whenever he saw a guy hitting on you, he had complete confidence that you would turn him down. And Zoro was completely right. The amount of trust that Zoro has in you is a green flag. Honestly, you kind of wished that you got some sort of reaction when someone flirted with you. Showed a little possessiveness.

So, you hatched a little plan… if the opportunity arrived. You told yourself that the next person flirted with you, you wouldn’t tell him to back off. Well, except for Sanji. You never take what he says seriously anyway.

At the moment, it was proven hard. With Zoro’s arm thrown around your shoulder as he gulped down his sake was enough to steer away any man that dared to lay their eyes on you. You were about to give up and walk around the town to hopefully cure your disappointment. Just as you were about to get up, a man was brave enough to talk to you.

“Hey there.”

Your lips upturned, excited that your plan was finally going to be put into action. “Hey.”

“I gotta say, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met.”

Upon hearing those words, Zoro’s gaze flickered to the man that was talking to you. He eyed him up and down, not really deeming him as a threat. So he went right back to drinking. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. It irked you that he had no reaction. It was a green light for you to continue.

With a bright smile on your face, you thanked him. “Thank you!”

When you responded back to the man, that’s when Zoro starts to listen. It didn’t look like it though. To any outsider, it looked like Zoro was drowning in his alcohol, completely oblivious to what was happening next to him. It was the complete opposite though. He was only taking sips of sake, eyes casted downwards as he listened to what was being said.

The two of you chatted like two long lost friends. Zoro listened to the conversation the whole time. A little aggravated with some of the things that he said. The man was quite bold to being saying some of these things to you, especially since Zoro was right there.

You were too engaged in the conversation to even feel the slight tense of Zoro’s muscles.

“So, do you have any plans tonight?”

That was the last straw for Zoro.

He slammed the bottle of Sake down, causing the table to shake a little. The both of you looked at Zoro in confusion.

The arm that was thrown around you tightened. His now free hand grabbing your waist to pull you closer. This took you by surprise. You weren’t really expecting it, but you liked this reaction. You had to hold back the smile that was about to break out.

“Dude, what’s your problem.” The guy sneered at Zoro.

This time you felt Zoro’s muscles tense. Not too hard to cause a mark, but you definitely felt it. Zoro’s face turned into a scowl. It took everything in him to not cut him down right then and there.

“You do realize that I’m (y/n)’s boyfriend, right?” “Yeah….????” The guy’s tone was unbothered, something that irked Zoro even further. Zoro stood up from the table, one of his hands going to the hilt of his swords. A scary aura rolling off of him like wave. “Then act like it.”

That’s when the guy finally got the hint. He quickly stood up, the chair making a scraping sound and quickly rushed out of the place.

Zoro then turned to you with a frown on his face, “what the hell was that for?” You gave him an innocent smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squinted his eyes at you. He wasn’t intimidating to you at all. Not one bit.

“You know…” You start, “Jealousy fit you.”

That’s when it clicks in Zoro’s head. That you had planned this.

He leaned down so that his mouth was next to your ear. Your eyes widen and a scarlet blush soon covers your face at his next words. You knew that you were in for it.

“You’re gonna regret doing that.”

[philistiniphagottini]

Hello, I love your writing! 💖

For your event, may I please request prompt #4 (Strap On) with Himeko from HSR?

Thank you for the compliment Anon. Hope you enjoy :)

Himeko + Strap On

cw. smut, wlw, penetrative sex, cowgirl position, sex toys, strap on, female reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

"You’re doing so well, pretty girl~"

Himeko softly cooed up at you, her hands grabbing the soft plush of your stomach and squeezing the irresistible pudge between her fingers. Your soused lashes fluttered over your warm cheeks as a moan bubbled up your throat, the cant of your hips shaking as you bounced on Himeko’s strap buried so deeply inside your fat, weeping cunt. Himeko continued to hum softly at you as her fingers grazed by your sides, nails scratching at your skin when her hands wrapped around your plump hips and pulled you down harder onto the silicone cock nestled inside your gummy walls.

Your voice scratched your parched throat, arms wrapped tightly around Himeko’s neck as your fat tits squished into her own, plush chest, the taut tips of your pert nipples rubbing sensually against hers and sending pleasant shivers to roll along the curve of your spine. Heat continued to rapidly twist in the pit of your stomach, the hot knot coiling tighter as Himeko trailed her plump lips across your jaw line and smeared her velvety red lipstick into your searing skin. Your blood simmered in your veins as you continued to bounce leisurely in her lap, staring up at her with dazed eyes and struggling to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. The flowery scent of her perfume cured deep in your lungs with each wavering breath, the tingle settling in the back of your throat as her cock rubbed a spot deep inside of you that had stars shimmering in your vision. 

Your drooling pussy fluttered around the silicone dick, your insides quivering as pearls of your arousal dripped down the soft insides of your thick thighs. Himeko’s grip on your plump body grew firmer as she helped you to rock along her thick strap-on, her honey-coloured eyes shimmering with warmth and adoration as she gently bucked up into you. You buried your hands in her flaming mane of scarlet hair, wisps curling around your fingertips as you tried to keep yourself ground this reality. Himeko chuckled softly as your pussy started to pulse rapidly around the thick stretch of her cock, the aching nub of your clit kicking weakly as you teetered closer to the edge of the crumbling precipice. 

"Do you want to come now?" Himeko asked with a teasing lilt.

You nodded your head frantically, the loud beat of your heart droning in your ears and almost drowning out the debauched, slick sound that came from between your parted thighs as your pussy tightened and swallowed thickly around the silicone cock. Himeko chuckled, the merry tune puffing against the shell of your ear as your nerves shocked you like a live wire. 

"Say please."

You timidly licked your lips, swallowing the budding saliva on your tongue as her name warmed your parched throat.

"Please, Miss Himeko" you softly begged, words puffing against her skin in a warm brush of air. "Please let me cum."

Satisfied with your answer, she helped you along with your encroaching high. Her thumb brushed against the puffy nub of your clit, paying special attention to the tightly packed nerves as she flicked and rubbed the flushed skin until you were shrieking. You babbled as you lost yourself in the haze fogging up your mind, long lashes fluttering wildly over your cheeks as you squirmed and jolted in Himeko’s lap. The blistering hot coil inside of you unfurled when the fat head of her cock grazed the soft spot inside of you that made fireworks spark behind your lids and burst forth in a hot, sticky rush. Himeko’s name was stuck in your mouth as you grind yourself wildly in her lap, your slobbering cunt drooling around the press of her silicone dick as your clit twitched against her finger. Her touch and voice were a soothing balm as the wild pulses of rapture stung your sensitive nerves, wracking the notches of your spine with violent shudders as you rode out the waves until you were spent.