#in a land of gods and monsters i was an angel (looking to

[sayyestoheavensayyestome]

a nice walk will make you find god a walk on the treadmill will make you think I haven’t heard gods and monsters by Lana del rey in years

[visxionaries]

who: @fromspringandfire when and where: king cedric of house tyrell visits the reach following the death of prince mors of house martell, with one particularly noticeable part of his entourage.

there had been a noticeable beat of silence that came in response to the question he had given her. the offer, which seemed so much more casual than it actually was. but that was the way in which he had always spoken to her, so casually when there was always something so much more beneath the surface. a suggestion, a chance, a game. this was no game, not this time; it was unheard of for the king of thorns and roses to ask for a woman to accompany him to another realm - especially a woman that held a personal connection to him.

this was not politics. this was the story starting again, the circle happening again. and he did nothing to try and end it.

for in the offer, it were clear. should she choose to accompany him to dorne of all places, there would come something else as a result of their choice. it was up to her to choose whether she were ready to put herself through such a thing again; for the illicit affair always maimed them both. but her? she were something special, in ways he could not understand. it was their fourth night in sunspear, and cedric tyrell had not called for laena oldflowers.

until he did. a servant had made the walks to her rooms to inform her that the king had wished to see her, just when the night had gone by ten. he had decided, silently that night, that it were time for the cycle to begin again. the doors opened, and she stood within the doorway, candlelight illuminating from her silverish curls that were also laced with gold. honey. amethyst hues he had seen drown in his own.

and as he crossed over to her, the night where they would finally give in all over again, his hand curved on one side of her cheeks. there were no whispers or a build up of tension that had not already happened the entire journey here. the nights spent looking across the dornish ballroom. and as his hands moved to begin to uncross the front of her nightgown, he used his other to remove the thin cloak she wore around her figure. "come here." he uttered.

[ao3feed-larry]

in a land of gods and monsters i was an angel (looking to be fucked hard)

by ineverateakiwi

"Harry could feel the man across the street staring at him for the past twenty minutes. He was inside a white van and a bit far from the light pole so only a part of his face was visible from afar. He wasn’t old as Harry expected him to be – men with vans were usually grandpas looking for some adventure. Not this one, though."

Harry is a prostitute getting ready to meet a new client when Louis comes crashing and, quite literally, saves his life.

A Pretty Woman inspired fanfic with an exciting twist.

Words: 5906, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Pretty Woman References, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Agent Louis Tomlinson, Sex Worker Harry Styles, Scotland Yard, Prostitute Harry Styles, Top Louis Tomlinson, Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Omega Harry Styles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Harry Styles, Feminine Harry Styles, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs in a Car, Semi-Public Sex, Belly Bulge, Strangers to Lovers, Scent Marking, Slightly Possessive Harry Styles, Smut, Protective Louis Tomlinson

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/ELywhJt

[dazedantics]

This should work for any variant of Mark, I think (I didn't have a specific one in mind)

But imagine living in hiding, knowing you should fear the aliens flying in the sky.

You technically have nothing personal against them. It's just that they were so overwhelming in their pursuit to take over your planet, the streets a frequently repainted sea of red. You'd seen so much loss, relinquished so much. Your heart was full of guilt, as if you were the one taking over. You knew there was no sympathy for those monsters who used their powers to belittle you. You knew no reason that they should be shed in a different light.

But when you're saved by one?

When you've fallen back into a corner, watching one zip through the sky. A mighty thunder clap echoing behind them. Landing just feet away from you, not yet noticing, not yet caring. Gripping the front of that someone's shirt.

And killing them.

All blood, no grace, laughter mocking through the debris muddled air. The sun streaking down like a God given spotlight, a bright halo where their carnage raved?

You suddenly felt no fear.

None.

Like you hadn't in years.

Instead, watching them smash what once was a skull into the ground, over and over and over again. You felt elation.

You felt awe, pride, relief!

Love.

You were in love.

No, this omnipotent being had not intended to save you. In fact, you were certain he'd planned on destroying you next.

But ever since the invasion, the resident scum of the earth found no reason to hide anymore. They had nothing to hold them back. So they didn't. And made anyone unfortunate enough to run into their path suffer. Perhaps they did not massacre like the aliens, but they did all the rest of the unspeakables. Pursued the weary like maggots on rotting flesh.

And had just about gotten their way with you.

Until him.

Your knight in spandex armor.

How many times had you been fighting to get away from those people? The ones who should've felt heavy gloom after all that your world had been through. How many others of the same type had you been fought and stalked by?

How many would this savior eradicate for you?

You hadn't even noticed you'd moved till you were on your knees in front of him. Hands clasped and words insistent like a filthy beggar as you thanked and prayed for him to take care of the rest.

He was confused, certain you'd start kissing his feet if he didn't stop you. The thought almost made him smile.

You were an ugly, sniffling mess. Beneath him in every way. Yet still looked up at him with such hopeful eyes.

How could he not take you along?

He could use a good pet. Maybe if you kept hanging to him like this he wouldn't have to fret over breaking you, forced to take that glimmer from your eyes. But you wouldn't make it come to that, would you?

You start to follow him along. Smiling as you watch him work, encouraging him. Asking him to take certain people out. Praising him when his work is slow and agonizing. Gazing at him so tenderly all the livelong day.

He was certain there was something awful twisted in you. But he didn't care.

Keep fluffing his angel wings like that and he'd never see a reason to drop you back to the depths with all the other lusterless ants.

And you started to see your people as ants too. The good you once knew simply lumped in with the dirty. It didn't matter from up here. Where you sat at this God's side, heart melting each time he hunted the people you asked him to. With no questions, no hesitation, making you feel so heard. So noticed. More than you had since even before you first saw him in the sky.

Perhaps these hard times are what made you snap. To find joy in such things.

But one thing was for certain.

You'd now have no qualms about watching him lay waste to think people you once fought side by side with.

You'd gladly help spread the name of your savior across the universe. You'd live for the day everyone realized the his arrival was good for them.

For the time praises were sung for the man deemed,

Invincible

[minhosimthings]

The Symphony Smut Series

A series of oneshots based on lyrics from my playlists and their songs

Day 1: Lana del Rey's Gods and Monsters;

In the land of gods and monsters I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard - Lee 'Know' Minho (Skz)

Day 2:Lana del rey's Brooklyn Baby

My boyfriends' in a band, he plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed - Heeseung and Jay (Enha)

Day 3: Doja Cat and Starbo3's D!ck

She came in like an addict - Kim Sunoo (Enha)

Day 4: Cat Peirce's You belong to me

Do what you please to me, I won't resist - Jake (Enha)

Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey

Took her to Paris, she took her panties off- Felix (Skz)

Day 6: Lana del Rey's Peppers

We write hit songs without trying like, all the time, all the time - Han Jisung (Skz)

Day 7: Julia Michaels' Heaven

they say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you - I.N/ Yang Jeongin (Skz)

Day 8: Lana del Rey's Cherry

My cherries and wine and all of my peaches are ruined - Heeseung (Enha)

Day 9: Flo Milli's Rodeo Ride

He love how I ride it, hop on a dick made him get excited - Changbin (Skz)

Day 10: Skz's Red Lights

I cannot breathe without you being right by my side - Seungmin (Skz)

Day 11:Charlie Puth's Dangerously

I love you dangerously - Sunghoon (Enha)

Day 12: Staind "Right Here"

But you always find a way to keep me right here waiting. - Hyunjin (Skz)

Day 13: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Louvre and Armani I like how you say it - Jay (Enha)

Day 14: Doja Cat's Agora Hills

Suck a little dick in the bathroom - Chan (Skz)

Day 15: Doja Cat's Agora Hills

Kissin I hope they caught us - Sunghoon (Enha)

Day 16: Todrick hall's Both

I can make you moist or i can make you fire - Minho and Chan (Skz)

Day 17: The Neighborhood's You get me so high

We should stick together, you're my best friend I love you forever - Jake (Enha)

Day 18: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Touch me where you need to, I can give you more - Minho (Skz)

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Mz. Bitch's Masterlist

Started: 2/24/24 Last updated: 4/17/25

MDNI!!

Due to inline link limits, please click on the story name to start reading and follow the chapter links. Thanks little darlings! Love y'all!

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes *One shots Sex Pollen My Alpha Got Nothing On You +parts Movie Night Please Come Back Vibranium & Stainless Steel Shy Dream Girl A little help from my friend Angry baby? Throw It in the Dishwasher +parts The Boss +parts I.T. Time to Heal A Very Cutesy, Very Demure Halloween Regrets & Apologies Quite a Workout +parts Overheard Oh Sister Let's Go Down Little Sea Storm I may be a real bad boy...but baby I'm a real good man +parts Zhihn moya Flirty A Bumpy Ride +parts Fire! Lots of Love +parts Things Are Not As They Seem It's Been a Long, Long Time La Muerte Deja Vu Soldat Blood and...Balsam? +parts Slow, Sexy Mornings Moody Bucky Made of Dreams One bed +parts This is the last time Doll It's Cold Outside Fake Out *Series Breaking the Class Ceiling **Finished Bucky Barnes is a middle class clerk. He needs to marry well to take care of himself and his father. Y/N Y/L/N is the heir to a millionaire fortune, who is blunt, no-nonsense, flirtatious, and looking for a partner. Everyone is vying for her hand. Can Bucky ever win? Pretty Pointy Smile **Finished Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since.  His father has had enough and sells him to the circus.  The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be. Sugar Mama **Finished Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by.  The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight.  Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love.  She has a proposition for him. Marriage of Convenience **Finished Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her.  But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband.  Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects?  Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help… The Temptation **Finished Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants.  So why does this fallen angel tempt him so?  You cannot serve two masters.  Will he choose God, or his heart? Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons **Finished Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of.  A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has.  Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Stranded **Finished Tossed overboard and lost at sea, Bucky washes up on an uninhabited island.  Injured, lost and scared, with little to no wilderness training, he fights to survive.  But is he really alone? The Fuck Up **Finished Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Naughty Nanny **Finished Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought. Run, pretty girl, run **Finished Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Pretty P.A. **Finished Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion model agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  The Gorgon **Finished The village nearest the mountain by the sea has a generations-old tradition of offering sacrifices to the monster in the mountain to gain favor and keep its wrath away from the people.  Every person starting from the age of 15 has to take a turn in making the journey up the mountain to the mouth of the cave once a year to drop off the gifts…and it’s a journey that some never come back from.  Y/N took her turn when she was 15, and now the rotation has come back to her again.  If the gift isn’t given by the autumn solstice, there’s no telling what harm the creature will wreak onto the people.  With a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her way, will she make it to save her and her people?  Can a monster have a heart? Dreamboat **Finished Y/N, her brother Steve, and his best friend Bucky all moved out West for a new start after Y/N was almost caught up and hurt in a rival gang fight.  Steve wasn’t in shape to fight in the war, but Bucky was drafted.  While out West, Y/N finds herself in trouble again from the local bar owner.  Steve is suddenly drafted for an experimental division of the army, but leaving Y/N alone isn’t an option.  Bucky comes home needing help, and Steve comes up with a crazy compromise.  Sweet Pumpkin **Finished Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Yes Mama **Finished Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world.  But he’s not the boss.  Just the face of the Family. 

A Pirate's Life for Me **Finished Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world.  They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them.  When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

The Witch and The Doctor **Finished Bucky thought he could make a difference, getting a medical license and trying to change people’s minds.  But the 1600s New World is a harsh place with cruel people.  After being accused of witchcraft he makes a run for it, facing the dangers of the woods and the rumored witch that lives within them.

Sugar & Spicy Books **Finished Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

The Professor's Aid **Finished Bucky has one last year left of college.  He has tutoring/teacher’s aid credits he needs to fill to graduate, no matter the subject.  He applies to be the Women’s Studies professor’s TA, thinking maybe he can skate by easily, until he meets the no-nonsense, large and in charge, pretty as sin professor who is hotter than expected.

Marriage Problems **Finished They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

The Thousand Yard Stare **Finished Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost.  After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life.  His newfound PTSD is severe.  His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give.  His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with.  He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Barnes Bakes **Finished A new, overly chipper neighbor moves in and disrupts Bucky's life. She's on the hunt to find his favorite treat in exchange for his help, and along the way a great friendship is made. But one night might just mess it all up.

The Favorite **Finished Bucky Barnes, the big boss of the crime underworld, is notorious for his unhinged behavior and punishments.  There’s not much that can fully set him off, unless someone messes with his favorite…

Yuletide **Finished Mr. Strange and his nephew Mr. Barnes were…different.  The little town of Concord, Massachusetts isn’t used to the pharmacists’ strange ways, with rumors swirling of wizards and magic spells.  Y/N doesn’t believe in any of those old folk tales, but does feel a pull towards Mr. Barnes, despite his standoffishness.  Maybe his heart will melt during the most wonderful time of the year.  Or maybe she’ll fall head first into a fantastical world she never thought possible. *Set in early 1800s America

Peter Parker *One shots Emotional *Short Series Tasty **Finished Peter just wanted to have one night of fun.  Then that night of fun almost killed him.  Now it won’t stop haunting him.  And he’s loving it. 

*Series The Young Duke **Finished Queen Y/N is running out of time.  At 35 years old she has to marry and make an heir to the throne, but all suitors so far have been unsatisfactory in one way or another.  Duke Peter Parker is the young Duke of Queensland, and his family is on the brink of ruin due to his parents’ failures and famines throughout the years.  He needs to find an advantageous marriage to save his family’s estate, so when an invitation from the Crown comes, he jumps at the opportunity.  Will it be a match?

Steve Rogers *Oneshot Sex Pollen An Evening Stroll

*Series My Queen **Finished Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother.  He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Fortuna Major **Finished Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home.  After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war.  They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry.  Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit. 

Joaquin Torres *Oneshot Angel's Wings Mami +parts

Stucky *Oneshot Three's Company

*Series Emerald Hallow **Finished Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good. And he's not the only one who smells it...

Actors

Sebastian Stan *Series A Patient Man **Finished Sebastian swore to never fall for another co-star again. Until Y/N drops into his life.

Call of Duty *Short Series Keegan's Girl **Finished Y/N was Keegan’s girl.  Until she wasn’t.  The team would never be the same, and Ghost respected that.  But after years of trauma, pain, grief and loneliness, he still never stopped loving her.  Is it too late?  Or wrong?  Or is it just right?

[endless-ineffabilities]

in the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel

President Aemond Targaryen x reporter!reader

mini smutshots from the National Anthem series

🍒 18+ MINORS D N fucking I 🍒

a/n: may this serve as your lusty reprieve from the great shitshow that has been unfolding. This contains scenes scattered throughout the series, and may contain spoilers, but who are we kidding. We knew these things would happen. No taglist—this will find you I'm sure.

main masterlist

after Aemond wines and dines you, convincing you to take on the job

The ride back to his suite was torturous. He wasn't sure if he had ever been left desiring someone so much, after his fingertips dragged along the wet lips of your pussy.

Your panties were lodged in his pocket like some consolation prize.

He'd much rather have the real thing, much rather be thrusting deep in your throbbing walls. His pelvic bone slamming against your ass as he jackrabbits with wild abandon. You, his pretty girl, his angel, squirting all over him.

All over his desk. All over the pristine leather backseat of his car. All over his Lyseni cotton sheets.

All over his thick cock.

Finally alone, he leaned back in his chair, bringing the delicate fabric to his face, inhaling deeply as his other hand slid down, unzipping his slacks, freeing the ache that had been building the whole night.

The desk was littered with confidential files and pressing matters, but all he could focus on was you—and how much he wanted you there, spread across his desk, begging.

His grip on his cock tightened, knuckles whitening as he drew your lace panties closer, pressing them firmer against his face, savoring every lingering trace of you. The scent was intoxicating, clouding his mind with memories of your skin, the sounds you made when he almost had you.

He imagined you there, straddling him, back arched, your tits bouncing free from your stiff white blouse. You would plead for his hands on you.

His strokes quickened, his jaw clenched as he envisioned tearing the lace from your body, you in different yet equally tantalising positions.

A low growl escaped him as he came, hips jerking, his release hot and messy over his fingers, desperate satisfaction twisting into a smirk on his lips.

It won't be long until he had the real thing.

His angel, falling apart on his cock.

The President and yourself, one night in his palatial holiday estate

The silk of his tie was tight over your eyes, leaving you in total darkness as you lay sprawled on the bed, legs spread and wrists pinned above your head.

"Look at you, angel," he murmured, his voice husky as his fingers traced down your throat, feeling the way you trembled under him. "Completely at my mercy. Can’t see a damn thing, can you?"

You shook your head, breath hitching as his hand slid down, spreading your legs wide, controlling your every motion. Controlling you.

His lips dragging down your neck, he bit just hard enough to leave a mark. "You’re not touching me tonight, angel," he growled, his mouth wetly brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "All you get to do is lie there and take everything I give you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," you shakily whispered back.

With a wicked smirk, he slid the thick head of his cock against your drenched folds, dragging it up and down, coating himself in your slickness before finally plunging all the way in, stretching you wide with one unforgiving thrust.

"Aemond," you gasped, a shuddering moan leaving your lips as he filled you, every inch pushing you to your limit.

"Fuck, you’re perfect," he groaned, his hands on your hips in a bruising hold, keeping you in place as he pounded into you, hitting the soft spot in your walls, leaving you trembling. "Such a good little angel…"

"You feel that?" he hissed, his pace unrelenting as he drove into you harder. "That's what it’s like to be fucked by a man who can't get enough of you. Who's going to ruin you every damn time until you’re soaked and wrecked, begging for more."

President Aemond was just as fucking mouthy in bed as he was in those rallies.

But just like everyone else, you were entranced by him. You would eat up every single word.

Especially there, especially then.

His fingers found their way between your legs, circling your swollen clit, his touch skilled, ruthless, dragging you closer to oblivion with every flick.

"You're dripping for me, angel," he muttered. "So desperate for my cock, aren't you? Want me to fuck you so hard you can't even walk tomorrow?"

"Yes, Aemond," you gasped, each word a broken plea as he hammered home, his pace vicious. "Please… don't stop… Don't you dare fucking stop."

"Oh, I'm not stopping," he growled, practically splitting you open as he buried himself deep, until you were a writhing mess beneath him. "I'm going to fuck you... until your pretty pussy can't take any more."

And with a final, brutal thrust, he sent you over the edge, your release crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless and shuddering, barely able to moan his name as he drove into you a few more times, his own release tearing from him with a guttural moan, his presidential seed coating your insides.

When he claimed your lips, tongue dragging along the outline of your mouth, he decreed, "You're mine, angel... Mine forever."

At the height of Aemond's campaign, in his office

Under the grand mahogany desk in his office, you were on your knees, Aemond's cock stretching your mouth as he lounged in his leather chair.

He had one hand buried in your hair, guiding you as he wanted. The heady taste of him filled you as you hollowed your cheeks, dragging your lips down his length, letting him hit the back of your throat with every stroke. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you fought to take every thick inch he fed you.

His angel, ever so eager to please.

"I wanna see you choke on my cock, angel. Take all of me. Like that... good girl."

Just as he let out a soft, restrained groan, the office door opened. You froze, your poor heart racing as you recognized the heavy footsteps that entered. Aemond's bodyguard, Steve, had stepped into the room, file in hand.

Aemond didn't even flinch. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his face impassive as he addressed Steve in a perfectly composed manner. "You have that report for me?"

"Yes, sir." Steve's voice was just as steady, but there was the slightest hesitation, a subtle shift in his voice that told you he knew exactly what was happening.

Aemond's fingers curled in your hair, urging you to continue. So you did, the notion of being discovered sending an undeniable thrill through you. You began to move again, tonguing his length.

"Just leave it on the desk, Steve," he said dismissively.

When Steve rushed out of the office, your Aemond resurfaced.

"You love this, don’t you?" he muttered, his composure slipping now that you were alone again. "Sucking me off... knowing someone could catch you, knowing they'd see how filthy my angel truly is."

Not long after, the warm, salty taste of him hit your tongue in hot and heavy spurts, filling your mouth.

He held you in place, refusing to let you pull away as he emptied himself down your throat.

You kept your lips sealed around him, your tongue pressed flat along the underside of his cock, feeling every shudder, every twitch as he spilled the last of his release.

"Fuck, fuck yes... my good girl."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, but Aemond was quick in letting you know that he hadn't had his fill of you yet. Truthfully, he never would have enough.

Always needing you, always needing more.

His strong arms carry you sit on top of his desk, hitching your skirt up to reveal the glistening lips of your pussy.

It was his angel's turn.

And so the President got on his fucking knees, and devoured.

May the gods bless Westeros, indeed.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

feysand: getting together

feyre and rhysand discover the beauty of triad-bonds. no smut, all fluff, a sprinkle of angst.

buckle in we got a long ride (3K but hey this is long for me)

- It was interesting how you three got together. 

- Of course Rhysand initially thought that he and Feyre got together first out of the three of you.  

- No. You and Feyre lost your virginities together, and had your first kisses together. 

- She calls you her first love, always has. 

-Rhysand has always found you interesting, you were an angel compared to Nesta and Elain. When Feyre had come back to the mortal lands, you were the only one to look at her with relief. He could practically taste it as you brought her into your arms and cried into her hair. 

“Oh, my love. Whose ass am I kicking?” 

He didn’t miss the nickname, nor the way Feyre glowed after you called her that. Or how you never left her side. 

It was the first time he had heard Feyre giggle. 

So he knew right then and there he was going to protect you no matter what. That opinion was solidified when you welcomed them in with open arms, no questions. Then, you snapped at Nesta on their behalf. 

He remembers when he asked you why you let them in so easily. You had shrugged and said, “Feyre trusts you. I trust you.”

It was…interesting to say the least. If he wasn’t so smitten with Feyre he’ll admit that he could fall for you. 

-One night, after the war, after Cassian and Nestas' mating ceremony and baby Nyx’s birth; the two of them laid in bed with the babe cuddled into Feyre’s chest. He asked the question he had been dying to ask. “Were you and Y/N ever….?” 

She looked at him as if she was nervous, “yes.” She whispered, her voice small. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Rhysand whispered fervently. Quietly enough to not wake Nyx, but loud enough that it showed how much he meant it. “I’ve always had a feeling.” 

She sighed, tears brimming her eyes, “gods these stupid hormones.” 

He wiped her tears. “I’m not mad.” 

“I know. But…” she shook her head. “It’s really scary.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“No, I want to. But I also want to show memories, so you can….understand why I don’t ever want her to leave my life.” 

“I mean, I don’t know her nearly as well, yet I don’t want her to leave my life either. She’s….” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and if Feyre didn’t feel the exact same way, she might’ve nailed his dick to the wall.  

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She has a way of captivating people.” 

He felt her brush against his shields, and he opened up to her. 

“We met when we were five years old. Around age six, I declared I was going to marry her. Everyone laughed at me, but when I told her that she just smiled and said, ‘I want to marry you too’. Of course, we were six years old, we didn’t know any better. All throughout our childhood we shared a bond, I thought my entire life she was my soulmate.” 

As Feyre spoke, Rhysand saw her weave the tale of you two. 

“Then, I fell for Tamlin, and then you. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone. But she’s always stayed in my heart. When we went back to the village to see my sisters, I was more nervous to see her. Nesta and Elain rejected me my entire life, she was the one person that never did. I don't know what I would’ve done if she looked at me like that. Like I was a monster.”  

He then felt the happiness that Feyre felt that day when you took her into your arms. He could feel the tears that hit Feyres neck as you cried. Your perfume seemed to have a mind of its own and weave around her. He was in Feyre’s head, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to leave this embrace. 

As the night went on, she shared more memories of the two of you. He could feel his heart glowing as he saw you two laugh and grow together. 

- When Feyre was gone, you had found him in the backyard of the townhouse. He was drinking a glass of fae wine. You sat down next to him. 

“You know Feyre would call me a sap for being worried about her.” You started. 

He could almost laugh at that. It fits. “She’d also probably hit you.” 

“Oh yeah, maybe with her shoe?” He whipped his head to you. 

“She tells me everything, Rhysand.” You quirked an eyebrow. “Everything. Which is why I’m not storming into the spring court. I know what she needs to do.” 

“What?” 

“She told me about it. When it was happening.” You said. “When that bastard brought us in, she spoke in my head. Told me about it and that I needed to trust you guys. So I did.” “I’m sorry, that you three got brought into this.” 

You shrugged, “you would’ve seen me around anyway. Fey and I can’t stay away from each other. At least this way our friendship will last longer.” 

He huffed a laugh, amazed at your positivity. “I’m surprised you’re this positive about it.” 

You shrugged, “I just got her back, I’m not losing her again.” 

“Yeah. I can relate to that.” He said quietly. 

- After that night, he looked after you more. You helped out in the kitchen, you cleaned too even though you were requested not to. You can’t just sit around. You even talked to Rhysand about getting a job. 

- You two also hung out together, you either talked or just sat quietly. He found that you were one of those people that made it extremely easy to talk to you about anything. He felt safe with you immediately, which should’ve rang off more warning bells than it did. 

- You were accepting this life, because rejecting it would just result in a big spiral that you refused to go down. You’ve been down a depression rut before, you know when the signs are coming so you made yourself useful around the townhouse. 

- After Feyre came back from the Spring Court; you welcomed her again with open arms. Held her while her own sisters turned her away. 

Nesta had shoved you away because to her it seemed you were taking Feyre’s side. You weren’t. You loved all of them so much, you just wanted a bit of normalcy even though you knew it would never be normal again.

Him, Feyre and the entire Inner Circle heard that screaming match between you and Nesta. 

“And you’re acting like everything’s fine!”

“If I do not act, I will fall apart. This is our lives now. It sucks, the change fucking sucks but you know what could suck more? Feyre being dead. I know you like to act all cold and heartless because it’s some fucking defense mechanism-“

“Do not psychoanalyze me Y/N.” 

“My defense mechanism is trying to make the most out of things! I’m sorry I'm not like you Nesta; I always wish I would be. It would be a lot less painful than feeling every-fucking-thing.” 

Nesta was silent and you continued. “I love you, I would do anything to protect you, to help you. But I cannot be pulled between the three of you.”

“So you’re choosing Feyre? Acting like this is normal?”

“I am choosing me.” You said. “I am choosing to deal with things. This is my life now and I will be damned if I waste one more second on hating myself ever again.” 

Nesta had left the room, storming past the inner circle and walking out. Feyre quickly ran upstairs, her mate hot on her trail. Everyone else remained downstairs in case you didn’t want an audience. Hell, Cassian tried to pull Rhysand away from checking on you. But Rhysand had shrugged him off. 

You’d grown on Rhys quite a bit. 

When they got upstairs, Feyre crept in, “Sometimes.” You breathed, “I want to punch that bitch in the face.” 

“Y/N-” Feyre started. 

“I love her, so much, Fey. But my Gods-” You choked out. “I am just trying to keep it all together.” 

“I know.” Feyre nodded, “that’s what you do. You make sure we’re all okay, but you don’t prioritize yourself. That’s what you’ve always done, but please do not put us before you this time.” Feyre’s voice was wobbly as she turned you into her shoulder. 

That’s where you broke down, and Rhysand made himself scarce. But not before seeing that look in his mates eyes. The same look she had when she found him during his nightmare. 

The face of someone watching the love of their life break down. 

-Eventually things between you and Nesta got better, “they always do” you had reassured Rhysand when he was talking to you about it. Feyre even agreed, “things always work out with Y/N. She doesn’t let stuff be unsaid.” 

- That’s why when he started fumbling around you like a schoolgirl, he realized pretty quickly what was going on. He knew that if you got a whiff about it, it would be endless misery. Not only would he lose Feyre, his entire family would turn on him. He knew what he was feeling too. It was the same thing he felt about Feyre when he first met her, intrigue. And then, it became so much more. 

The mating bond was beginning to snap. But a trio bond? Cause he still very much was bonded to Feyre. He had never heard of a trio bond in his particular area of the world. He knew couples took on consorts or occasional thirds. He even joked about that with Fey. 

Hell, this entire inner turmoil he’s had to keep from shouting down the bond. He wants to talk to her because she’s his best friend but how do you tell your wife you think you’re also fated to be with her best friend? 

So he began countless research methods. Just wondering if it was a thing at all. Or if they were about to rewrite history. However, he found that while it wasn’t common, it did happen. So, he began a folder compiling research, putting things together to show Feyre everything he’s found. 

- Pretty soon he was able to grow a pair and tell her. He walked into their home, first he checked on his beloved son to see him sleeping in his crib. Then found Feyre in their bedroom. He walked up to Feyre too, ready to confess, when she looked at him extremely nervous. “I wanna try something.” She started. “I…I love you. So fucking much Rhys. But….I was wondering if we could add Y/N to the mix. I’ve felt this pull and I can’t explain it. And it’s really scaring me right now.” 

He felt like he was going to collapse. He then realized he didn’t say anything when Feyre started crying, “please say something.” 

“I…I’ve felt the pull too.” He held out the folder, “that’s actually what I want to talk to you about.” 

So they stayed up quite late, going over the logistics, how they still felt about each other (spoiler: disgustingly in love still), and how they would feel adding you. 

- They wanted you more than anything. 

- So, despite Feyre telling Rhysand “no my love, she’s not going to like subtle ways here. She needs direct.” He still went subtle. 

- She just let him do whatever. Even though she knew damn well you don’t like gray areas, you need point blank black and white. 

- She knew not intervening sooner would bite her in the ass, especially when you stormed into the art studio fuming. But she did enjoy the beautiful blush on your cheeks. She also found your angry eyes disgustingly attractive like she always has. 

You threw your bag over in a chair. “You need to tell your husband to stop flirting with me.” You hissed to her. 

Feyre raised a brow, “tell him yourself.” 

You looked shocked. Feyre quickly realized that this wasn’t the time for a blunt best friend role. Especially when she knew her husband had feelings for her best friend. “Fey! You can’t be okay with this!” 

She sighed, “can you just stay here, please? I’m going to get him here and we’re going to get this figured out.” 

You sighed and waited. When Rhysand came strolling in all breezy, he froze like he was terrified. “Uh, hello my two favorite beautiful ladies-”

“See!” You yelled. “He doesn’t stop.” 

“And he’s not going to.” Feyre sighed, “we have something to talk to you about.” 

She was glad she could read your face so well after all these years still. Let’s just hope there were more years of friendship, and possibly more. 

She also didn't know how to be around the bush with you. “You know the mating bond?” 

You nodded, so she continued. “Since a few months ago, both Rhys and I-” she looked at her husband. “We’ve felt…a pull to you.” 

You just stared. Rhysand continued. “The pull is the beginning of the mating bond.” Then he noticed that you weren’t reacting. 

“Why aren’t you surprised?” Rhysand asked. 

“She already knows.” Feyre said. 

You said nothing, and Feyre continued. “You knew and didn’t say anything?” 

“You didn’t say anything for a few months.” You said weakly. “When did you know?” 

“The second I came out of that cauldron. I felt it then.” 

Rhysand felt his own heart shatter, Feyre could feel her own shatter then as well. You waited years. Rhysand didn’t even wait that long knowing that it was Feyre. He waited a good six months but not years. Feyre didn’t wait at all, she jumped his bones. 

Feyre jumped back, shocked. “You knew for years? Why didn’t you-”

“What could I have said, Fey?!” You yelled. “That I’m 90 percent sure that I’m meant to be with you and your husband? Doesn’t help the fact that-” You cut yourself off, you were bordering on hysterics. 

“The fact that what?” Rhysand said softly. “You two make it horrifically easy to fall in love with you.” You said, your tears finally cresting over your waterline and flowing down your cheeks. “I tried. I tried not to. Because I didn’t know if the cauldron was just cruel and gave me two mates I could never have. I knew it was possible for people to reject their mates so I accepted I was destined for that.” 

You sniffed, “my gods, why don’t you just put me out of my misery and reject it right now. I’ll leave Velaris, I’ll leave you alone.”

Feyre was crying. “You don’t deserve to be rejected.” “Well, you wouldn't think that if you knew the thoughts I had about your literal husband but okay Fey.” 

“If you were a random woman, that’s when I’d care. But you’re you-”

“And your best friend. It’s a cliche ass trope.” You wiped your face. 

“And you are my mate!” She shouted. “You are destined to be mine, to be Rhysand’s, to be ours!” 

You looked at Rhysand, “you’ve been silent. What are you thinking?” 

“How lucky I am to have two beautiful women be mine. If you’ll have me.” He said, his voice was quiet and hoarse, as if he was terrified that if he spoke too loud, he’d spook you and you’d run. 

You let out a broken sob, Feyre and Rhysand ran to hold you. 

“We would be honored if you became our mate.” Feyre said, her forehead pressed against your temple. 

“When I first met you,” Rhys began, his chin resting on your head. His hands clasped around Feyre’s back on your left side, he was on your right. “I saw how happy you made Feyre. But then when she was gone, you kept me from losing it on…well everyone.” He admitted. 

“We had only had a few conversations.” You said. 

“Shhh, I’m confessing.” He teased, then he heard you snort a laugh. “When Feyre and you first reunited. I saw how happy she was, how she felt so safe. I vowed right then that I would protect you to keep that smile on her face. But once I got to know you, I realized I would protect you in general. You made me feel so at ease. I felt the peace that I knew Feyre must feel when she talks to you. You are strong, you are sweet, you are the most welcoming person I have met in my lifetime. You had every right to react poorly to us, instead, you took us in simply because we were with Feyre. You never looked at us like you were superior, or that we were your superior. Just equals sharing a space.” He held you two tighter. 

“You could’ve ignored us completely, or been rude. But instead, you unabashedly asked Azriel and Cassian to help you cook because if we were going to stay we had to do work.” His shoulders shook with restrained laughter. He heard Feyre giggling and even you let out a wet laugh. “I realized you were a gem too many times to count. Especially when I fell asleep on the couch and not only did I have my guard up, but you covered me with a blanket so I wouldn’t get cold. Most would’ve ignored me. Then at the meeting with the other High Lords, you snapped at Tamlin and told him to ‘shut the fuck up’ and to ‘fuck off and die’. It was a magnificent thing to witness. You didn't care that he could’ve killed you with a single strike. Which, not going to lie, kind of worries me for your health in the future.” 

All three of you laughed at that. 

“You say we are easy to fall in love with, but you have no idea how magnetic you are.” He said. “I always wanted you and Feyre closest to me, at first I thought it was because you were her best friend, and you were becoming mine. But then…then I started to fall for you. Before I felt the tug. I fell for you because of this kindness, this bravery, the strength. It’s everything to me and if you give me the chance I will spend the rest of our lives proving how I am worthy of you and Feyre. The mating bond was just a bonus.” 

You sniffled again, but he felt your arms pull from where they were wrapped around your own waist. And spoke. 

“I have a condition.”

“Name it.” Feyre whispered . 

“I get to have sex with you both at separate times and together. Basically, we fuck alone and together. I’m not doing this territorial fae bullshit if one of you is actually not okay with it. We are all equal and we can solo fuck each other.” 

Rhysand let out a loud, boisterous laugh, “that’s not what I was expecting, but absolutely.” All of you laughed again.

“I want dates too.” 

“Always.” Feyre said. 

“And gifts.” You said jokingly.

“Duh.” Rhysand said seriously. 

 But then you untangled yourself from the huddle and went to your bag that you had thrown down when you stormed into Feyre’s art studio. 

Rhysand couldn’t help the pout and Feyre whined at the loss of contact. 

You said nothing, but pulled out an orange and began peeling it. “Seriously? You’re snacking after that?” Rhysand exclaimed. 

“Rhys, wait.” Feyre said, tears in her eyes. Her hand on his arm. 

You offered it to them, “I don’t have time to prepare something right now, and frankly I’m not patient enough.”

They just stared at your open palms. “I accept.” 

- Thus the frenzy began.

[holybibly]

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant. 

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters. 

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones. 

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay. 

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun. 

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come. 

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons. 

The majestic Hala. 

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible. 

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began. 

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist. 

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have. 

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price. 

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful. 

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers. 

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet. 

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue. 

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life. 

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you. 

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest. 

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy. 

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic. 

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense. 

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you. 

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name. 

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window. 

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game. 

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you. 

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power. 

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.   Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for  you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.

[vorachii]

ㅤㅤ⸺ DIVINE (4)

pairing: sukuna x angel!reader

cw: slightly graphic violence though nothing bad, reader is gender neutral, sukuna is a kid for the most part (this is meant to be platonic), reader described to have white wings and a golden halo, slow paced (kind of), angsty though some fluff.

ㅤ1ㅤ｜ㅤ2ㅤ｜ㅤ3ㅤ｜ㅤ4ㅤ｜ㅤ5

Time had a way of slipping through bloodstained fingers.

Years had passed since that freezing night beneath the dead tree, the night Sukuna first spoke the words “I’m cold”, but the chill had never really left. It simply changed shape. It twisted into hunger, into rage, into something vast and bottomless.

And now? Now, the world trembled at his name. The King of Curses.

The title fit like armor, heavy, brutal, and suffocating in the way Sukuna preferred. Villages fell, temples burned, and the earth itself seemed to recoil beneath his claws. His domain stretched wide, a kingdom of rot and ruin where cursed energy festered like a disease. Crimson clouds stained the skies, and rivers ran dark with the remnants of shattered clans. His power had shaped the very land, turning it into a reflection of his monstrous will, jagged landscapes, twisted forests where cursed spirits bred like vermin, and shrines left in ruin, their gods long forgotten.

But it was more than conquest. It was revenge. He razed the villages that once spat in his direction. The ones where mothers pulled their children close, whispering stories of the devil-child with too many arms and too many faces. Sukuna made sure they remembered, if only for a moment, before the fire took them. The smell of burning thatch, the sound of crumbling wood, the screams, all of it carved into the earth as deeply as it had been into him.

There was no mercy.

In one village, he’d found the old temple where elders once prayed for his removal. He tore the altar apart with his bare hands, his claws rending through sacred wood, the bones of forgotten deities scattered at his feet. Blood ran in rivulets down the stone steps, staining the earth as he laughed, deep and hollow. His domain wasn’t just a kingdom of curses; it was a graveyard of his past.

The forests twisted under his touch, their branches curling like claws, shadows thick with malevolent energy. Rivers once pure now ran black, slow-moving and heavy with decay. The wind itself carried whispers, echoes of curses, of hatred, of all the things the world had spat at him. Legends spread like wildfire, stories of a monster with four arms, two faces, and an insatiable thirst for power. To some, he was a god of death. To most, he was a nightmare given flesh.

But still, he wasn’t alone. The angel, his angel, was there. Always.

You hovered just behind him now, your glow a dull flicker against the crimson sky. Your wings, once sprawling, blinding things, hung ragged, feathers falling like dead petals in the dirt. Cracks spiderwebbed through your halo, thin as hairline fractures, but you gleamed in the dying light. The withering was no longer subtle; it clung to them like a second skin.

Sukuna never acknowledged the sound of feathers hitting the ground anymore. At least, not out loud.

He sat cross-legged atop his heavy stone throne inlaid with blood-red gemstones, blood drying on his claws, the coppery tang thick in the air. You stood nearby, a hollow shadow of your former self, but your presence still radiated that faint, stubborn warmth.

He hated it.

“You’re looking worse,” Sukuna sneered, not bothering to turn. “I thought angels were supposed to be untouchable.” You didn’t answer. You never did when he prodded like this. Another feather drifted past, catching on the breeze before crumbling into dust. Sukuna’s eyes followed it, irritation twitching at the corner of his mouth.

He remembered the first time he expanded his Domain. It had been violent, raw and unrefined, a manifestation of pure instinct and hate. The ground had split beneath him, rivers of blood carving jagged paths through stone, while the sky fractured like glass overhead. Cursed spirits had fled, their instincts recognizing a predator they could not match. It was in that moment the world truly learned to fear him.

“You should leave,” he spat, voice sharp. “I don't need you anymore.”

You tilted your head, a sharply contrasting silhouette against the blood-soaked horizon.

“And lo… I endure still.”

Sukuna’s jaw tensed. His claws dug into the stone, splintering it beneath his fingers. “Tch. Stupid.” But the truth clawed at him in the silence that followed. He didn’t want them to leave. The thought burned through him like poison.

He stood abruptly. You didn’t flinch, even as Sukuna stepped closer, towering over them. His four arms hung loose at his sides, but the tension was thick, the air practically vibrating with it.

Your eyes, those pitiless, ancient things, narrowed. “I have gained power, a title,” he muttered, voice low. “And yet you still follow me around like some cursed shadow.” Your response was soft, barely above the wind. “I am bound unto thee, unto this choice, even amidst ruin.”

Sukuna’s lip curled, but his claws didn’t rise.

Instead, his gaze flickered, briefly, to the hollow space where another feather had fallen, leaving nothing but dust. For a moment, something cracked in him. A flicker of something that wasn’t rage or pride or hunger. But it was gone just as fast. He scoffed, sharp and bitter. “Weak,” he bit out. “You should’ve let me rot when you had the chance.”

You didn’t argue.

But Sukuna noticed it, the way your shoulders sagged, the halo dimmed just a fraction more. And something inside him twisted, sharp and cold. “You’re a fool,” he whispered, but the venom was hollow.

He turned away sharply, storming down the crumbling steps of the shrine. The dust from shattered feathers clung to his claws. Memories clawed at him, battles fought, blood spilled, power amassed. He remembered the cursed spirits that challenged him, their forms grotesque and ancient, and how he tore through them as if they were nothing. Each victory built his legend, but each left a deeper hollow inside him.

The wind howled through the broken shrine, carrying the dust of fallen feathers far, far away. Sukuna didn’t watch them drift. Not this time. But when the cold pressed in again, deep and gnawing, he didn’t push you away, either.

It wasn’t long before a cursed spirit came, a few days at most.

Ancient. Rotting. A bloated, serpentine thing with too many eyes and a mouth that stretched from jaw to chest, scales as sharp as blades and eyes that glowed like molten gold. Its hiss split the air, thunderous and piercing, as it coiled through the twisted forest, trees cracking beneath its weight, the air thick with its poison.

Sukuna grinned.

The fight was brutal, his Domain materializing in a snap, a temple of bone and flesh, its walls writhing with cursed energy. Blood soaked the ground, the air vibrating with malevolence as Sukuna tore through the spirit, its screams high and broken.

The fight was a dance of chaos. Sukuna lunged first, four arms wielding cursed energy like blades, slashing through the thick scales with brutal precision. The serpent twisted, its tail cracking through the air, knocking Sukuna into a crumbling boulder. Dust exploded around him, blood trickling down his chin.

But as the cursed spirit lunged one final time, jaws wide and venom dripping, Sukuna didn’t strike.

Instead, he stepped back.

You moved without thinking. You crossed the threshold of Sukuna’s Domain, where the rot was thickest, where cursed energy clawed at purity like fire to dry grass. Your feet hit the bloodied ground, and the effect was instant. A violent crack split through your halo, light sputtering as your wings bent beneath an invisible weight. Feathers blackened at the edges before disintegrating entirely. The glow that once radiated from them faltered, dimming to a frail flicker.

But you didn’t falter. You raised a hand, light pooling in your palm, and with a force that shook the temple walls, you sent the cursed spirit hurtling backward, its twisted form snapping against the bone pillars before collapsing into dust.

Silence.

Sukuna stood still, four arms loose at his sides, but his jaw was tight, his teeth bared. You staggered, one knee hitting the ground as another feather crumbled into ash beside them. “You stepped in,” Sukuna murmured, something sharp in his voice. You smiled, simply. Your halo, growing more fractured with each intervention, flickered weakly.

Sukuna’s claws flexed. “What kind of angel are you?” he growled, but there was no heat behind it. His Domain dissipated around them, the temple walls crumbling into nothing, leaving only the open sky, deep red, clouds swirling like bloodied smoke. He didn’t help them up. But he didn’t leave, either.

Another feather fell. And this time, Sukuna watched it hit the ground. He didn’t know what he hated more, your loyalty or his own reaction to it.

taglist:

@after-laughter-come-tears @prettorett @nynxtea

[literatureloverx]

BSD men as Lana Del Rey songs

( or how their darlings likely perceive them)

I was bored… ♥️ The Nikolai part was really hard to write because he’s clearly Britney Spears-coded. Anyway, I did my best—enjoy!

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

Lana Del Rey — Sad Girl

“But you haven’t seen my man, you haven’t seen my man…you haven’t seen my man, you haven’t seen him…He’s got the fire, and he walks with it. He’s got the fire, and he talks with it…”

Lana Del Rey — Young and Beautiful

“Dear Lord, when I get to heaven, please let me bring my man. When he comes, tell me that you’ll let him in. Father, tell me if you can… all that grace, all that body, all that face makes me wanna party… he’s my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds…”

Lana Del Rey — Once Upon a Dream

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream… I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam… And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you’ll do…you’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream…”

DAZAI OSAMU

Lana Del Rey — Cinnamon Girl

“Cinnamon in my teeth, from your kiss. You’re touching me. All the pills that you take— violet, blue, green, red—to keep me at arm’s length, don’t work. You try to push me out, but I just find my way back in. Violet, blue, green, red, to keep me out, I win.”

Lana Del Rey — Ultraviolence

“He hurt me but it felt like true love… Jim taught me that, loving him was never enough…with his ultraviolence…”

Lana Del Rey — Smarty

“Who has the face like smarty does? Who has the voice like smarty does? Who has the choice like smarty does? Nobody, nobody…”

NAKAHARA CHUUYA

Lana Del Rey — Million Dollar Man

“Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you…one for the money and two for the show…”

“…You're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man…”

Lana Del Rey — Guns and Roses

“'Cause you were so much better than the rest of them. Out of all the others, you were the honest man. He loved guns and roses, guns and roses…”

Lana Del Rey — Born to Die

Come and take a walk on the wild side. Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain…you like your girls insane.”

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Lana Del Rey — Art Deco

“You’re not mean, you just want to be seen…want to be wild. A little party never hurt no one, that’s why it’s alright. You want in, but you just can’t win…So you hang in the lights…”

Lana Del Rey — West Coast

“Your love, your love, our love… I can see my baby swinging, his Parliament’s on fire and his hands are up… On the balcony, and I’m singing, ‘Ooh baby, ooh baby, I’m in love…’”

Lana Del Rey — Gods and Monsters

“In the land of Gods and Monsters…I was an angel living in the garden of evil…Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed…shining like a fiery beacon…”

AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE

Lana Del Rey — Shades of Cool

“But I can’t fix him, can’t make him better… and I can’t do nothing about his strange weather… but you are unfixable…I can’t break through your world… ’cause you live in shades of cool, your heart is unbreakable…”

Lana Del Rey — Diet Mountain Dew

“Hit me and tell me you’re mine…I don’t know why, but I like it. Scary? My God, you’re divine…”

Lana Del Rey — Brooklyn Baby

“They say I’m too young to love you. They say I’m too dumb to see. They judge me like a picture book, by the colors, like they forgot to read… I think we’re like fire and water… I think we’re like the wind and sea. You’re burnin’ up, I’m coolin’ down…you’re up, I’m down…you’re blind, I see.”

[angel-w1ngz]

Earth Angel pt 2

Prompt: You get zapped into supernatural the way Dean and Sam did in that one episode

Notes: finally here's pt2 to the last drabble I did, keep in mind I don't usually write stuff like this. (This also isn't proof read)

(pt 1)

"I need help getting back home" you spoke staring at the two hunters and angel before you.

"wait can we touch back on the whole TV show thing?" Dean spoke confused, waving his hands around as a way to show his emotions.

"Dean we don't have time eventually those vamps are going to catch up to us" Castiel spoke in a sort of matter of a fact way.

You gulped, seeing these things on your TV screen was one thing but living it was a whole other. You dealt with sick patients and victims of crimes not something trying to kill you.

"how about we forget that and just leave?" You laughed nervously earning an eye roll from Dean.

Almost on que a vampire came rushing behind you with a horrible screech. You turned around and couldn't help but let out a scream. You always made fun of the people screaming and whining when faced with a monster but now you happened to be in their position.

"get down!" Sam yelled causing you to drop to your knees, you heard the sounds of bullets before a rushing of feet.

You looked up watching Sam take down the vampire with a quick swift move of a machete quickly chopping it's head off. You felt nauseous almost dizzy too. You felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to look up you were met with blue eyes staring back at your own.

"are you alright?" Castiel spoke gruffly.

Your face flushed red as you quickly got back to your feet. "Yes-yeah I'm fine" you dusted off your scrubs as Dean and Sam faced you.

"alright new plan leave and get her back to the bunker and handle the nest afterwards" Dean spoke with a rushed tone before walking past the three of you and heading to the impala.

You sat at the map themed table in front of Castiel. Dean and Sam left almost as soon as you guys arrived at the bunker to finish off the vamp nest.

You felt shock, you were really in this. You were really stuck in monster land.

"how exactly did you end up here?" Castiel looked at you. He could sense you weren't of this world and it made him curious how some one of normality would end up here.

"well I uh..I went to turn on, well supernatural and this glowing purple light showed up and stupidly I touched it and ended up here" you looked up at the angel, laughing nervously as you spoke.

"that's almost exactly what happened to us..." He spoke in an almost thoughtful tone like he was full of questions that he wasn't ready to yet ask.

"do you have monsters in your world?" Castiel asked

"well, it depends on what you consider monsters" you started off. Looking over at Castiel your eyes couldn't help but roam he just looked well hot.

Castiel could sense your attraction to him and there was no denying he found you attractive as well but he knew better than to let the risk of a nephilim become apparent. He also knew an angel and human was strictly forbidden.

Castiel let his eyes linger on you for a second before leaning slightly over the table. "Listen-"

Right before he could finish his sentence Dean bursted through the door holding a bag of food.

"we got burgers! You do like burgers right?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow

"oh god you have no idea" you spoke with a smile as the take out box was sat in front of you.

"I like her already, Sammy why can't you be more like her, ya know with all your rabbit food would it kill you to eat a burger?"

"yes Dean it might, like later in life I mean" Sam rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Dean at the table.

Castiel's gaze was still fixed on you, while your entire focus was the burger in front of you. You and Dean almost mirrored each other with the way you two ate. Sam found it hilarious while Castiel was indifferent.

"so I'm thinkin' you take one of these rooms, get yourself situated and we look through the lore to see if we can't sent you back home, Sammy will lend you some of his clothes for the time being" Dean spoke as he lead you down the hall filled with empty bedrooms.

Sam had already laid out an outfit in the room for you while Castiel who walked behind you and Castiel seemed to be slightly annoyed by the idea of you wearing Sam's clothes. You couldn't read his expression that well but Dean definitely could.

"Thanks, Dean" you gave a smile as you walked into your now bedroom and shut the door. You sighed you couldn't believe what your life had come to. Four years of shitty nursing school to end up here with characters from a freaking TV show. You hadn't even gotten to finish the show either so you had no clue what was to come next.

You looked down at the clothes sat on your bed and raised an eyebrow. Half of this was going to be like a nightgown on you. 'damnit moose' you rolled your eyes.

After a quick shower and getting changed you crawled into the bed and let out a sigh.

Right as you were almost asleep you heard a knock at your door. You got up and grudgingly opened the door and looked up to be met with a pair of blue eyes. Your heart nearly stopped as Castiel pushed his way inside and shut the door.

You couldn't read his expression, he seemed maybe angry or maybe annoyed but you couldn't put your finger on it.

"Castiel? What's wrong? Did I do something?" You felt worried that you might've made the angel angry which was the last thing you wanted.

"there's something about you..I can't figure it out" he spoke gruffly before nearly backing you up to the wall.

His hand moved to your face and you felt your cheeks raise in heat.

"c-cas, stop this you know that this is bad" you let out a nervous laugh before pushing his hand away and moving from him and sitting on the bed. 'oh dear God I can't believe this' you almost squealed in excitement but you knew as much as Castiel that this was dangerous not just for your life and the nephilim risk but your will to want to even go back home.

Right as you were going to speak you felt a pair of lips crash into yours. Your eyes widened but you couldn't help but melt into the kiss. You closed your eyes and reached your hands up to lay on his shoulders.

Castiel pulled back looking down at you and quickly stepped away. "This was..uh a mistake" and just like that he left your room.

"God damn it" you sighed and laid back in your bed. 'great now things are going to be awkward' you thought to yourself.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Ive been absolutely obsessed with fics where Crowley is insanely powerful lately, but there’s not really a tag for that since BAMF Crowley is pretty general. Do yall have any recommendations? :)

Hi! We have a #powerful crowley tag, so check that out. Here are some more fics to add...

I Do Not Forgive You by Puerinrotis (M)

The most powerful thing in the world, in the whole cosmos, was love. The second most powerful thing in the cosmos was rage, pure and unadulterated, red and white and blinding, hot and seething rage. Crowley had plenty of both in him to do the impossible. “I’ve had enough of your games, Mother,” Crowley growled, dangerous. “You made the choice to turn one of your most powerful children into a demon and now it’s time that you paid the price for creating a monsssster.” The Supreme Archangel looked up to stare at him in horror as he raised hands drenched in silver blood upwards in a grand gesture and announced with a feverish glow in his golden eyes, “Hello, Aziraphale. It’s time for you to welcome your new God.”

Cast Thou Send Lightnings? by midnightdragons (G)

Cast thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are? — Job 38:35 A brief argument between angel and demon spirals a bit out of control when Crowley's tendency to become struck by lightning when caught up in the throes of his smoking anger makes itself known.

The Art of Creation by Bookwormgal (T)

Once upon a time, long before humans set foot outside of Eden and long before his inelegant landing in a pool of boiling sulfur, Crowley had been an angel. An angel with a very different name and far less cynicism. And that angel was made to build Her creations. He built stars, nebulas, and other beautiful and complicated things far out there in the cosmos. He shaped fundamental elements and materials into new creations. He molded burning fires and sculpted dust into breath-taking patterns. He started bright and powerful reactions, serving as a catalyst to spark the birth of stars. He set various celestial objects spinning. He built. He took raw materials and built wonderous things with them. He built because that was the role that She made him for. In the end, was rebuilding that much different than building? And wasn't rebuilding fairly close to healing? When it was his angel's existence on the line, Crowley was willing to grab at any chance available. He would find a way to fix what had been damaged. He would find a way to save him.

But I would walk 500 miles by Augenblickgotter (T)

There's a conspiring of foes from both sides that forcefully kidnap Aziraphale. Crowley is in hot pursuit and will stop at nothing, finding some unlikely aid along the way, and bringing up his True Form when the time is needed. Some depictions of pain and violence, minor character deaths by Holy Water, and mild gore. Also mild claustrophobic and dingy descriptions of Hell. And the boys relationship can be flat out platonic asexual best of friends or downright dirty lovers. The story is up to you and is more about how far they would go for each other. ;) No, no monster sex in this one either (comb for my last fic if you need it). Just BAMF Crowley ready to walk 500 Miles through Heaven or Hell to save his Angel.

This Is Who You Are by Azeutrecia (M)

Post S2 finale. Canon-friendly. This is a story of two tricksters …who have strong feelings for each other that they’re terrible at expressing …who have a status imbalance …who aren’t who they thought they were …who both are dealing with multiple types of trauma …in a dystopian divine+occult world …that may be entangled in a conspiracy based on the power of names and stories

- Mod D

[minhosimthings]

Gods and Monsters

Symphony Smut Series Day 1: Lana del Rey's God's and Monsters

Lyric: In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard.

Pairings: Cupid!Minho × fem!angel of heaven, includes Yuna from Itzy in a scene

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), loss of virginity (reader), overstimulation, p in v, slight breeding kink, corruption kink, possesion kink, hair pulling, use of kitten and angel, Minho cumming in reader

A/N: alright, first day! I am saur excited for this series so we're starting off strong with my husba- I mean my bias Minho! This was heavily inspired by his WKorea photoshoot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Gods existed. And so did monsters. But monsters didn't have a particular description, in Minho's opinion.

There he was, an angel, with the brightest wings of them all, holding metal tipped arrows in his hand, shooting all those who he believed deserved love, or worse, rejected love.

And yet, sometimes Cupid falls in love too. High angel of God never mattered to him much. Why would it? When beautiful angels roam the gardens of Eden, stroking their frocks and picking berries and flowers all day.

You were one such beautiful angel.

The prettiest of them all, according to Minho.

"Minho has his eyes on you again Y/N." Yuna nudged your shoulder gently, accidentally making you drop the berries you had in your hand. You rolled your eyes and picked them up again, quickly throwing them into your basket.

"Let him. Why should I care?"

"He's a high ranking angel Y/n." Yuna mumbled, adjusting her skirt, "They say he serves God directly."

"Nobody has seen God Yuna." You smiled gently at her. Even though she was older than you, by a few years or so, she was always the more mischevious one, always keeping an eye out for spotting your admirers.

"He is handsome, but we all know I have probably zero chances with an angel like that."

"Suit yourself then." She huffed, her mystical eyes scouring the dirt below your feet for more berries.

"Why are we picking so many berries anyway?" You questioned, adjusting the basket on your hip. Yuna shrugged her shoulders and made a face which clearly screamed confusion.

"I've hear a rumour though." Yuna whispered excitedly to you, toying with a mulberry leaf she has accidentally plucked, "Apparently Minho needs them for his monthly ritual tonight."

"The ritual?" You asked, "The one where he..."

"Takes an angel for his own, yes." Yuna completed your sentence, removing a thorn stuck in her wickerwork basket, "Apparently if he falls in love with any of them, he shall be promoted to a higher position, one where he can actually see God."

"But that hasn't happened yet has it?" You chuckled, the scent of honeydew plantations tickling your nose, as you saw some angels tending to them with their bare hands all pricked with thorns, "He's a Cupid. Cupids can't fall in love. Even though, I admit, he is dashing."

"Angels, may I have a moment of your time?"

A cold voice sounded like a gong behind your ear drums as you spun around (your skirt spinning with you), to face a cat-like face with bunny teeth.

"Minho." Yuna perked up, brushing her hair out of her face. Gosh, she really did like him. Like you, and every other angel in Heaven and Hell.

"How are you today?" " Fine as ever, Yuna." His tone was condescending, a weird one to use for a casual conversation such as this one.

"Y/N." He bowed to you, the eclipses of his soft hair falling onto his face as he did. "Minho." You answered, the neckline of your frock falling down as you bowed, revealing your cleavage, which Minho tried hard not to stare at.

"You look beautiful today." He complemented, his white teeth on full display, "as always." His addition at the end made you blush.

Was he this nice to every pretty angel?

"I assume you ladies are picking these beautiful berries for my ritual tonight?" He bent over your basket, examining all the black and red berries stuffed into it.

"We are." You cleared your throat, noticing how close Minho was to your bosom, "aren't they delicious looking?"

"We'll see tonight." Minho toyed with a blackberry, "When I drink them up."

Something about his tone scared you, as Yuna bowed him out of the garden, leaving you, tucking your skirt in a little more secure, and looking at the berries all arranged neatly in your basket.

Unexpected things always happen to humans, as you had heard. But sometimes they can happen to angels too. They can happen to anyone really. They just need time.

"Y/N." Minho caressed your cheek gently. The smell of crushed blackberries filled the room, as a bowl of red berries lay beside you.

Being chosen by Minho, hearing your name fall from his lips like an ill forgotten name of a God was shocking, as Yuna nudged you forward to the stand. All the angels looked at you with pity, as if you were a lamb going off for slaughter.

But you hadn't expected him to treat you so kindly.

"My angel...." Minho whispered, tucking a stray hair back behind your ear. "Why me?" You whispered back, as he kissed your knuckles gently, his wings fluttering gently behind him, as he folded them into his back.

"Why not you?" He chuckled, looking at you with bedroom eyes. Reaching his hand behind you, he picked up a berry from the wooden bowl and held it in front of your mouth.

"Be a good angel and open for me." He imitated an opening mouth with his own, "ah there you go, good girl."

The cherry was sweet, running with juices as you tasted it in your mouth, it's bitterness not bothering you. Spitting the seed out quickly, you looked up meekly as Minho's naked figure.

His jaw, lined with heavy lust, his eyes darkened as the night, and his muscles throbbing into your skin. You were wearing a loose robe of reds and whites, a show of the corruption of the pure.

"Oh don't worry darling." Minho caressed your cheek again, his thighs rubbing against yours as he laid you back on the silk ridden bed, "You'll feel nothing but pleasure tonight." "Minho I-Im scared." You whimpered, unsure of what to do. What if he didn't fall in love with you? What if you became another wasted angel?

"Don't be." Minho chuckled, "A pretty angel like you shouldn't be."

You sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up robe. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now. He paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

You leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

"May I?" Minho asked gently, toying with your robe. You nodded your head in a weak attempt of saying yes. His face, mere inches from yours rendered you speechless again.

And with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. Minho pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

His kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

“oh, kitten, you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” His hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. He licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, kitten?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” And you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

You were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. You were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. His arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, angel.” Minho crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

Minho's hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, God.” Minho almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. Minho was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“You’re so fucking tight.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back.

“ahh,” you moaned, trying to tilt your hips so he stopped rutting against your clit, but he was too heavy for you to move beneath him. You could feel another orgasm brewing and you squeezed your eyes shut, your brain fogged. “M-minho” you cried, not knowing if you could keep going like this.

Minho's erratic hips never faulted, “shh,” he cooed unsteadily. “you can take it.” 

You shook your head back and forth and mewled in your throat. Minho tried to reassure you, “m’almost finished, kitten.”

As wild and deadly as he was in the battles of Heaven , he was just as primal in the bedroom. Thee softness of your skin felt heavenly against Minho's sore body and against his calloused hands. he slid a hand into your hair, his fist grasping tightly. “this is the last time. i promise.” His deep baritone sent you over the edge. you cried out loud, your legs squeezing against Minho's body, your body shaking as he pummeled you through another orgasm. 

You could barely hear the way he was grunting and moaning as you clenched down impossibly hard around him. “gah, fuck,” he groaned.

Minho spilled inside you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him fill you once more that night. You weren’t even sure how he still had more to give at this point.

His thrusts turned slow but remained powerful when he bottomed out, hitting you as far back as he could. you gasped with every rut of his hips hitting yours. 

His seed leaked out around his cock as he rode out his orgasm. you weren’t sure you could go for another round, hoping Minho was true to his word and this actually was the last time.

His hand aimlessly stroked your hair. he pulled back to look at you, smiling at the sight of your flushed face and disheveled hair. “see. knew you could take it.” he kissed the tip of your nose, regretfully pulling out of you. you whined at the loss—you had got so used to the feeling of him inside you, it was almost painful for him to leave. he marveled at you as he sat back on his haunches, looking between your legs and watching his seed gush out of you. 

"You're mine now." Minho whispered into your ear, looking at your cum ridden tummy, "all mine for the eternity of heaven."

As if to seal a charm, Minho kissed you on your neck, wrapping your weak figure into his arms, and running his fingers through your hair to cradle you to sleep.

"My angel."

[letsgobarbs]

WIPlash

Me? early to a wip wednesday? a rarity for sure <3

Here's a snippet of my Pero Tovar x F!Reader fic that I'm writing for the wtts challenge hosted by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality

The Groom On The Bride Train

If that perra pinches her nose one more time, he’s going to bite it clean off her face. He knew he smelled bad— he could smell it himself. But it was not that she smelled like an angel’s rosy fart. They had all travelled from distant lands without a proper bed or a wash for who knows how long, simply covering the last stretch of this journey together to the same town. To get married.

His jaw ticked to the side before he clenched his teeth. The skin of his lips burned with the cold. He fisted his aching fingers to preserve some warmth in the wooden digits. He hated the cold— for many reasons— he hated it most because of how silent it was. The snow had been falling over them like a fresh, white shroud of anxious silence as all the women agonised over their fate.

And breaking this silence was the jarring clatter of this closed wagon— with bars over its windows, no doubt used to transport prisoners. Tovar tried not to look closely at the scratch marks on the wood as if some wild animal had been tied inside once— he steered clear of anything with claws after the Tao Tei, preferring to deal with human opponents only.

His thick, matted beard covered the snarl curling his lip as he felt another stare at the side of his face before the woman heaved a giant, weary, woebegone sigh— he was surprised her soul didn’t fly out of her nose. For the last few weeks, these mujeres had stared at him in open curiosity, fear and even pity before they had all decided that their circumstances were far worse. And they might be right.

Only the truly desperate women chose to place themselves at the mercy of a strange man— ones who had no one to protect them from the monsters they were running from. He, on the other hand, was the idiota who thought he would be answering an advertisement for a servant’s job in some Lord’s castle when he saw the announcement on the tavern wall. They were looking for someone who could cook, clean and maintain a household— how was he to know that was a posting for a wife? Who even advertises for a wife?

-/-

It's looking to be a two chapter thing but honestly how am i even supposed to focus on this with the new materialists trailer out my god 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

turn out your pockets: @peepawispunk @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @slimybeth69 @pedrospookie @mushgloomz @ohhoneypascal @clubsoft @damneddamsy @iknowisoundcrazy @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk @goodwithcheese @jolapeno @myownwholewildworld @604to647 @tinytinymenace @baronessvonglitter @missredherring @almostfoxglove @stellamarielu @misguidedasgardian @bluemusickid @papurgaatika @cxrsed-angel whoever else that wants to share feel free to tag i shall come nose around a bit <33

[upon-a-starry-night]

Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies. 

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole. 

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body. 

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg. 

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you. 

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’ 

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't” 

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to. 

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you. 

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt. 

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding” 

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks! 

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag. 

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two. 

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was. 

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it. 

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now- 

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him. 

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now. 

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering. 

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!” 

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!” 

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man. 

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind. 

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?” 

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car. 

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask 

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry