#late noon swinging

[uglykidswearingprada]

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot

In which Lando Norris meets his childhood crush, who just happens to be an actual princess.

Warnings: none Pairing: Lando Norris x BritishPrincess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k or something

(quick note: running late for a meeting this morning but wanted to get this out. I'll update the tag list later tonight when/if I have time. Enjoy the new seriesssss!)

Master List

There must be a foreign power invading London. 

That is the only reason you can think that your assistant would be waking you up at 8am the morning after you spent nearly 12 hours entertaining Argentinian foreign dignitaries with your father yesterday. When you had tumbled into bed at 2am after the state dinner the previous night, the last words you had mumbled to Noelle were ‘please don’t wake me up before noon tomorrow.’ 

This was supposed to be your one day off after attending engagements with your parents four days in a row. 

“I’m so sorry, your highness.” Noelle whispers from where she stands at the foot of her bed. You immediately wonder if the palace groundskeepers would be willing to install a set of locks on the doors to your apartments that only you had the keys to. 

“Noelle, you’ve been my assistant for how many years now? You can call me by my first name.” You grumble from under the thick cream duvet that you had tugged over your head moments before. 

You glare at Noelle but immediately regret it when you see the anxious look on the older woman’s face. This wasn’t her choice, you realized. “What does my father want now?” 

Noelle worries at the corner of her lip before holding out her cell phone. “He’s been trying to reach you for an hour now. Insisted I come wake you up.” 

“He’s been unable to reach me because he swore up and down last night that I’d get today off from anything family related.” You complain, unable to keep the whine out of your voice.  

Tossing off the covers, you swing your legs over the side of your king sized bed before reaching out to take Noelle’s phone from her. You can see the active call ticking away with your father’s name on the caller ID ‘HRH King Edward’ 

“Good morning Papa.” You expertly adjust your tone, knowing that if your father hears one single hint of grouchiness in your voice you’ll never hear the end of it. “Everything okay?” 

“Your brother is sick.” His tone is brisk and you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean to be short with you. He is literally the King of England after all. You’re sure he’s got a few things on his mind beyond worrying about waking his youngest child up at the crack of dawn. 

“Does he need me to bring him something? Soup? Medicine?” 

Your father scoffs on the other end of the line. “Don’t be silly.” He scolds. “My doctor has already been in to see him this morning. It’s just the flu, but he is contagious.” 

You’re silent on your end of the phone, knowing there is more to come as the news of your older brother being sick didn’t really warrant an early morning phone call. 

“I need you to take over the engagement he was going to do today.” 

It takes every ounce of royal training for you not to groan. You’d been attending events and engagements all weekend long, standing in for your mother who also was sick with the flu. “Can’t Mike do it?” 

Your youngest brother Michael was in his final year at Oxford before he’d go on to do the requisite military training but he was still able to engagements here and there. 

“Michael has exams this week, so he is unavailable.” 

You nearly suggest your sister-in-law Charlotte take her husbands place but know that would also be turned down as she’s been busy with her new well baby charity and juggling having two young children at home as well. The weight of the expectations of being the second eldest child of the King of England hangs heavy on your shoulders as the sunlight pours in through the curtains Noelle has drawn back. It’s a gorgeous spring day in London, which you know is rare this time of year. You had been planning on spending the day out on the private gardens that are tucked away in a hidden part of the palace not open to tourists reading a book in the quiet. 

“What’s the engagement then?” You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that once again, your family duties were coming before your own personal agenda. 

You tried so hard not to be resentful of the weight of who you were and most of the time, you were fine with your station in life. You lived a very privileged, if not somewhat regimented and controlled, life as the only daughter to King Edward and Queen Matilde of the United Kingdom. Your parents, while busy with their own lives and duties, adored you and your two brothers, Sebastian and Michael. They had worked hard when you were younger to make sure that you and your siblings were raised as normally as possible, which hadn’t always been easy. 

“You’ll be going out to the Silverstone Circuit in Towcester to meet with some people from the McLaren Formula 1 team. They're the Duke of Dover Awards newest partner and their drivers are doing some laps the track with children from the local schools. They’d like to take you on the track too.” 

Your brother had started the Duke of Dover Awards when he had married Charlotte 10 years ago and had inherited the title as the heir to the throne. The foundation awarded hundreds of thousands of pounds each year to kids and teenagers that applied to be recipients of grants to improve their communities, start small businesses, and conduct scientific research. It was your brother’s brainchild and baby and you were shocked that Sebastian had agreed to allow anyone that wasn’t him to go near an event of theirs. 

Sighing, you stand and shrug on the silk robe that was hanging form the little hook next to your bed. You were certainly not getting a day off today, now were you? “Okay, sounds straight forward enough. Does Noelle have the details?” 

“Yes, Noelle has everything you’ll need. Thank you for helping, little dove.” 

Your heart squeezes as the nickname your father has used since you were a toddler. You knew he carried a heavy weight with the crown on his head and expected nothing but the best from himself, and by extension you and your siblings, at all times because of it. He meant well and loved you fiercely, you knew that but sometimes it got lost in the legacy of what it meant to be a Windsor. 

“Of course, Papa.” 

You hang up and hand the phone back to your assistant. “Papa says you have all the details. Could you have everything printed out so I can read it in the car. Towcester is quite far away, isn’t it?” 

“About an hour and a half, if traffic is good.” 

You nod, mind jumping into preparation mode. The timeline that had landed in your inbox while you had been on the phone with your father said you needed to be there a little after 1pm, which gave you enough time to get ready. “Can you call Tibby, give her the details and have her pull some outfits for me? I can do my own makeup and I don’t think I’ll need anything fancy for hair, yeah?” 

Noelle nods, eyes skimming her emails. “Your brother’s valet says he was planning on wearing jeans and a jumper, so it sounds casual. Natural makeup and a sporty ponytail, maybe?” 

“That’s fine, I can do that myself.” Sometimes it chafed at you how much had to go into your appearance. You could never really go out looking sloppy or unkempt because the bad press that it inevitably invited drove your mother crazy. If your father was preoccupied with the weight of his crown, your mother was preoccupied with the weight of what her image meant to millions of people. It was a difficult relationship to navigate and you didn’t always do a good job, so you tried to maintain at least the minimum appearance standards your mother requested just to appease her. 

Noelle snaps into action, calling Sebastian’s valet to get some more details on the people that will be present along with any other notes he had thought important. You pad towards your private bathroom to take a shower and get ready for what you assumed would be another routine royal engagement. 

And boy, how wrong you were. 

“Are you nervous?” Oscar mutters as he comes to lean against the counter in the garage next to where Lando stands, scrolling on his phone.

Lando looks up, confusion knitting his brows together. “Nervous for what?” 

As far as he knew, this was just going to be another routine event with some kids and the Duke of Dover, who he'd already met last year during the race at Silverstone. Nothing to be nervous about really.

“To meet the princess!” Oscar chuckles, knocking his shoulder into Lando's.

“Princess?" The crease on his forehead deepens even more. "I thought it was the Duke that was coming. Isn’t it his awards thing that we're partnering with?” 

Oscar shrugs. “Zak said the Duke is sick. His sister is coming instead. Apparently she just pulled in as well. Sophie is running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Something about not being prepared for her."  

Oh. A thick sense of anxiety settles in the pit of Lando's stomach. Oh fuck. This changed things. He certainly hadn't been nervous before but now he was, knowing that it was you that he'd be driving around the track instead of your brother.

Like most guys his age, Lando had grown up with photos of you taped to the back of his door and indulged in several...interesting and not very polite fantasies when he was in his teens. In fact, now that Lando thinks about it, you were probably his very first crush. You had been the first princess to be born into the Royal family in two generations and the press had fallen in love with you the day you were born, dubbing you the English Rose that was going to save the monarchy.

Once you reached your 18th birthday and debuted into society, taking your place beside your older brother and parents by working for the family full time while going to university to study international business, the country had fallen even more in love with you. Your family was well loved by the entirety of the Common Wealth but you? You were absolutely everyone's favorite Windsor by a country mile. And that included the British Formula One driver.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar's thick accent shakes Lando out of his day dream.

"Oh, yeah." Lando replies weakly, rubbing the palm of his hand over his jaw, glad he had shaved this morning and put a bit of extra care into his hair.

"Boys!" Sophie, McLaren's head of Public Relations, yells at the entrance of the garage, fists on her hips as she taps her toe glaring at the pair. "The princess is here and everyone is waiting on you."

"Coming." Lando mumbles, desperately trying to tamp down the nerves that are making his stomach do somersaults. This is like a teenage wet dream come true.

Just outside the garage is a group of people clustered around several McLaren sports cars waiting to get started. Lando can see Zak chatting with you from 50 meters away and he loses all ability to think straight when he sees you in person for the first time. You're dressed in dark wash jeans that hug your curves and, much to Lando's surprise, a papaya colored knit jumper. With your hair pulled back in a high ponytail, your delicate features on full display. He couldn't help thinking how much better you looked in real life compared to the glossy magazine photos he used to keep tacked up to his bedroom wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando, Oscar, and Sophie approaching before Zak does but you don't allow the group to distract you from your conversation with McLaren's CEO. That kind of behavior would send your mother into a tailspin. She hadn't sent you off to boarding school at the age of 12 for nothing after all. But you can't help how your stomach twists when you lock eyes with the boy with the curly hair. A nervous ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his full lips, sending goosebumps exploding over your skin.

"Oh, there they are!" Zak finally notices the drivers and Sophie and moves to introduce everyone. Behind you, Noelle hovers, lying in wait to correct anyone who might break royal protocol when it comes to interacting with you. You desperately wish she would've let you come alone.

Introductions are made and you try your hardest to ignore the way your skin sparks when you shake hands with Lando. Zak explains how the afternoon is going to go and that Lando is going to take you around the track on a hot lap while Oscar and a few other reserve McLaren drivers take the kids out behind.

"Nervous, your highness?" Lando asks as he checks the chin strap on your crash helmet.

The way your stomach dips when he smiles at you has nothing to do with nerves.

"You're about to whip me around this race track at speeds that could kill me, I think you can call me by my first name, Lando." You tease, deflecting the real reason your palms are sweating.

Lando blushes, eyes falling to the ground. "I guess that's true. Just didn't want your lady in waiting to tackle me for committing some protocol crime, I guess."

The laugh that escapes you would send your mother into a complete fit it's so sudden and loud. "She does look like she's lying in wait, doesn't she?" Your eyes dart above Lando's shoulder where Noelle stands, eyes trained on you as if she's expecting someone to attack at any moment.

"She's just a little...protective." You say, voice going soft. "Last year we had a little incident where I was being stalked for several months. The guy thought we were engaged and he somehow managed to get around my protection officers and into my building at 3 in the morning. They caught him outside my door with duct tape, rope and a knife in his bag."

Your eyes go wide with horror as you realize what you've just said. No one in the public knew about that, your parents had insisted on keeping the investigation quiet. The man had been sent to a psychiatric facility with the blessing of his family and charges hadn't been filed in order to protect your privacy. You had no idea why you had just spilled one of your most closely kept secrets to a veritable stranger.

"Well then I'm glad she's here to watch over you." Lando's voice is quiet, like he knows you don't want others overhearing this conversation. "I'd hate to think of anything happening to such a pretty girl."

For several moments, the busy pitlane falls away a bit as Lando's hands remain on the straps of your helmet and he looks at you like he's known you for your entire life. You're used to people staring at you and being under the microscope but the way Lando looks at you makes you want to squirm in the most delicious way possible.

"Okay, you two!" Zak booms, shocking you out of the little bubble that had grown around you and Lando those few moments. "Lets get you out on the track. Lando, please remember this is a member of the royal family, I'd rather not have to leave the country if you injure her."

"What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I hurt the princess in my charge?" Lando quips, aiming a wink your way before rounding the hood of the low slung papaya colored McLaren.

You can't help the way you snort in response to his flirting, it's so ridiculous but you also can't ignore the way your stomach twists in delight at the way Lando's tongue works around the word princess while he looks at you.

You had to be careful though. Despite Lando being famous and well off in his own right, you were even a step above that and life had taught you that even the most well connected and rich men saw you as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want to marry the only daughter to the King of England, even if they had billions. You can't buy a real royal pedigree. Not like the one you had, dating back generations on both sides of your family.

No, you couldn't allow yourself the luxury of lowered walls but you could allow yourself to indulge in a little innocent flirting, because that's all it would ever or could ever be with Lando Norris.

"Zak, can I file a workplace injury claim if I've gone deaf this afternoon from her screeching?" Lando complained as he held out a hand to help you out of the McLaren 45 minutes later.

"I have no idea what you're talking about! Princesses don't screech." You sniff, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you yank your hand out of his grasp the moment you're steady on your feet.

Lando snorts now, rolling his eyes, enjoying the color that flushes in high on your cheekbones. He was the one to make you blush like that and it sends a zing of arousal straight to his cock. While you had been in the car with Lando, before he had scared the daylights out of you, he'd been able to overcome the initial nerves of meeting his boyhood crush and had settled into a flirty conversation. The way you two bantered back and forth so naturally was new to Lando and kind of unnerving to him, but in a good way.

"I'm inclined to believe if the princess was driven to 'screech' that it was all your fault, Lando." Zak jokes with a shrug before turning to you. "Thank you so much for coming out this afternoon and filling in for your brother. We got some great shots of you guys on the track and before with everyone together."

You nod, smiling at the group that's now gathered. Beside you, Lando has wiggled his way between Noelle and yourself so he's settled in at your side. "Wonderful. I'm sure they'll be the perfect content you guys all need. Is there anything else you need from me today? Did all the kids get laps on the track and the merch bags?"

Sophie nods, "Yes ma'am, no one left empty handed."

You sigh internally knowing that the day is almost over. You can taste the freedom of the back seat of the Range Rover where you can finally let your mask down for a few extra moments. You loved days like this, busy and filled with lost of interaction with the public but it was also exhausting beyond measure. You knew you'd sleep well tonight, having attended events nearly every night for the past 9 days.

"Good, thank you." Your eyes find the McLaren CEO who stands across from you. "Zak, I assume we'll see you at the awards gala Saturday night?"

Zak nods, "Yes, Oscar and I will be there."

You can't help the bit of disappointment that blooms in your chest when he doesn't say Lando's name. You hate it and ignore it the best you can because it simply isn't acceptable. So instead you lean on your years of training and upbringing to hide your true feelings. "Lovely, I can't wait to see you both again."

As Lando watches your car pull away, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that your time together is up.

"What awards gala was she talking about? Why wasn't I invited? Lando practically whines, turning to Zak once the Range Rover is out of sight.

Zak chuckles "You were invited Norris and you turned it down because, and I quote, 'you don't do boring awards dinners that aren't written into your contract'."

Lando kicks at a rock with his sneaker, feeling a bit foolish. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to make an exception for this one then."

Zak narrows his eyes, not liking where he thinks Lando's head is going. "Listen Norris, I know your personal life is none of my business."

"And you'd be right in that assesment, Zak." Lando responds cooly.

Zak holds his hand up, "But I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that whatever I think is going on in your head about the woman that just left the track is probably a bad idea. A princess like her is not able to have a casual relationship like the ones your used to. Just..." Zak pauses, trying to put his advice in the best words possible. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Message recieved loud and clear, Zak." Lando mutters before turning and walking back towards the garages.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call—quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming–but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4663

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I was reading a book series and got this idea. Enjoy!

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, poking at the sad bowl of cereal before you.

“Why not?” Your wife frowns at you from across the kitchen.

“Because we’re doing fine! We don’t need any extra help,” you emphasize.

“You’re not the one stuck at home all day cleaning the house and cooking all the meals,” she snaps. Your eyes shift to the bowl of cereal you’d had to make yourself because she was too busy at her pilates class to cook you anything more substantial. 

“This house is huge compared to our old one,” your wife continues. “And if you’re not going to help me around here, I’m going to hire someone who will.” Annoyance burns in your chest because you run your own company full-time, and your wife inherited all her wealth from her parents and hadn’t worked a real job in her entire life. “Besides, Steve’s the one who recommended her and he said she’s been really helpful to his family.”

“You seem to spend a lot of time talking to Steve,” you note, although you feel guilty for calling out your neighbor across the street. You’d spoken to him a few times and he seemed like a decent guy, but you weren’t stupid enough to not notice how often your wife would find her way over to his lawn multiple times a week.

“You’re at work all day and don’t answer your phone half the time,” she says. “You don’t expect me to stay in this gigantic house all by myself doing chores, do you? I’m not a house servant, Y/N.”

“No, of course you’re not,” you apologize. You glance at the Omega watch that had been an engagement gift from your wife. “Hey, I have to get going to work now.” Dutifully, you bring your bowl over to the sink and stop to kiss your wife on the way there. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Remember, the pool guy is coming at noon so you need to be back before then,” she says. “I don’t want to be left by myself with him.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” You’re not sure why she’s so nervous around the pool technician; he was about 30 years older than the both of you and had been very sweet and professional when he came to give you a quote for the maintenance.  

“No, don’t try. Do it,” she insists.

You try to hold in your sigh. “Yes, dear.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha curses to herself as she drags her vacuum cleaner and basket of cleaning supplies up the sidewalk to your home. Your wife–Mrs. L/N, as she had asked Natasha to call her, while you had no problem being on a first name basis with her–had told Natasha she didn’t want her parking in front of your house, requiring her to park around the corner. Which wouldn’t have been a significant issue except it meant Natasha had to lug everything to your house every time she stopped by.

“Do you need any help, Nat?” Steve Rogers, the friendly neighbor whom she also worked for, waved at her from across the street.

“No, no, I’m fine!” she squeaks, not wanting to bother him. But Steve, ever the gentleman, runs over anyway and she has no choice but to turn over her supplies to him. 

“You know, you can always just park in front of my house,” he offers, bundling the items in his muscular arms.

“That’s okay,” Natasha says. “Mrs. L/N made it very clear that as much as she needs my help, she doesn’t want people to know I’m here.”

Steve doesn’t argue with her and walks her to your front door. “Well, if you ever need anything–”

“Natasha! You’re late!” The front door swings open and Natasha finds herself face-to-face with your wife. “Oh, hello, Steven.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I was just helping Natasha with her things,” Steve explains.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She can handle herself. Right, Natasha?” She turns a judgmental eye on Natasha.

“I appreciate the help, Steve,” is all Natasha says.

“You’re welcome. See you both later!” He quickly jogs back to his home. 

Mrs. L/N ushers Natasha into the house. “I left a grocery list on the kitchen counter for you. If you can’t find something, please call me before you pick any substitutions,” she instructs briskly. “I have to go out to the HOA meeting, but Y/N should be home by noon before the pool man comes. Do not let him into the yard if Y/N or me are not home yet, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Natasha nods her head, fighting the urge not to roll her eyes at this lady.

“Good.” She leaves towards the garage and Natasha can hear the purr of her Mercedes starting up.

It was Natasha’s second week working for your family, and she hated nearly every second of it–mostly because of your spoiled, bratty wife. But the few times Natasha had met you, she thought you were as kind and charming as could be (and very nice to look at). She wondered how the two of you had gotten together in the first place and what you saw in your wife. She was one of the bossiest clients Natasha had ever had, and Natasha had seen her be not much nicer to you. Plus, she was definitely hitting on Steve, but Natasha knows he wouldn’t cheat on his wife with yours.

She dumps her supplies in the foyer, then goes into the kitchen to find the grocery list. It only takes a single glance to know that your wife is totally fucking with her–what the hell is a rambutan? Natasha sighs loudly, wishing there were someone around to hear her distress. As much as she wants to quit working for your family, she needs the money. And she was still so new to the business, she couldn’t afford to make any bad impressions. 

With another sigh, she balls the grocery list into her fist and heads back out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha returns from her grocery trip just in time to see you pull into the garage in your bright green luxury sports car she doesn’t even recognize the manufacturer’s logo of. You get out and wave to her and she smiles back, almost forgetting the awful phone call she had to make to your wife when she searched the entire store and still couldn’t locate the rambutans (she ended up having to make a separate trip to Whole Foods for them). 

“Hi, Natasha!” you say, running down the driveway to help her with the grocery bags.

“Oh, don’t worry about these,” Natasha says, trying to swat your hands away. “It’s my job to take them into the house–”

“No, let me help,” you insist, scooping up four bags in one hand in one go. “Oh! Rambutans. These are my favorite. Thank you for finding them.” 

Instantly, Natasha wants to take back all the curses she had put on the spiky red fruit. “It was nothing,” she lies, making a mental note to buy out the store’s entire stock for you the next time she goes.

With your help, it takes half the amount of time to get all the groceries in the house. You also insist on helping her put everything away, showing her the proper drawers in the fridge for the fruit and vegetables versus the meat, and where the cereals went in the pantry. Natasha is beyond grateful for you; she knows your wife would have happily stood there and watched her struggle, then loudly criticized her for not knowing better.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her hand inadvertently brushing yours when you pass her the last bag of apples. She withdraws from you almost too quickly, her skin hot where you touched her, but you don’t seem to notice, distracted by the ringing of the doorbell. 

“That must be Stan.” You dash off to meet the pool man. 

Natasha fills the dishwasher as much as she can and starts in, then goes to finish washing the oddly-shaped pots and pans that didn’t fit in the sink. The kitchen window looks out to your yard that is probably bigger than the footprint of her entire apartment complex. The pool has two different levels, but both are filled with a suspicious green water. You’re standing poolside talking to Stan, an older gentleman whom Natasha personally knew to be very kind from her few interactions with him when he conducted work on the neighborhood pool’s. 

She’s so busy looking at you, fantasizing about a life where this big house could be hers, with a doting partner who would take care of her and raise a family with her, she doesn’t hear the front door opening until she hears the unholy screech from your wife.

“Natasha, what are you doing?” she yells, hurrying over and snatching the soapy sponge right out of Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Um–the dishes? They didn’t all fit in the dishwasher–”

“You turned on the dishwasher?” Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops like Natasha’s just confessed to a murder. “Didn’t I tell you we don’t run the dishwasher before seven p.m.?” Natasha is certain she’s never heard this instruction before in her life and watches as she rushes over to turn off the dishwasher mid-cycle and throw it open. “Also, you didn’t pack this correctly, you definitely could’ve fit those pots in here.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll rearrange it now,” Natasha says, trying not to get flustered. Surely your wife wouldn’t fire her over such a minor transgression, would she?

“Is Stan here yet?” she asks, but before Natasha can answer, she is interrupted by a shout and a splash. Both of them crane their necks to look out the window, where they can see Stan floating facedown in the pool. You’re kicking your shoes off and throwing your phone onto the lawn before you run up to the pool’s edge and dive in with a form that would rival an Olympic swimmer’s. Your wife screams and darts towards the back door, Natasha following right behind her.

“Y/N! What are you doing?”

“He fell in!” you answer, coughing out water as you loop your arms under the elderly man and kick back towards the stairs. “He just zoned out when he was talking to me and suddenly tipped over into the pool. I think he’s having a seizure.”

“I’ll call 911!” Natasha offers, not wanting to be as useless as your wife. She struggles to get her phone out of her pocket and punches in the number with shaky fingers.

Your wife hovers by the pool stairs, making no move to assist you as you struggle to drag the old man out, clearly weighed down by the water drenching both of your clothes. Stan is holding himself in a position so stiff it reminds Natasha of a mannequin. 

“Ugh, don’t get me wet, Y/N!” your wife complains as the brackish water sprays everywhere.

“I’m trying not to!” you snap, gently laying Stan on the grass.  

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a dispatcher picks up.

“Hello? Yes, I’m at 2800 Sherwood Drive. There’s a man here who fell into the pool and we just got him out, but he’s having some kind of medical episode,” Natasha says, putting her phone on speaker. The dispatcher asks if he’s breathing and you confirm. 

“Can roll him to his side and stabilize his head?”

Without hesitation, you peel off your shirt and roll it into a soggy ball, gently tucking it under the man’s head like a makeshift pillow. Natasha tries not to stare at your nicely sculpted torso, highlighted further by the water droplets on your skin, but her face burns in shame when she sees your wife glaring at her ogling.

“Okay, his head is stabilized!” you call out.

“Perfect, emergency services are two minutes away.”

“Thank you.”

It’s a big scene at the house by the time the ambulance pulls up. Your wife eventually covers you up with a towel, but you’re insistent on waiting outside for Stan to be carefully loaded into the ambulance before you finally allow your wife to usher you back into the house, still dripping water everywhere.

“Thank you for the help today, Natasha,” you say, reaching out to give her shoulder a gentle pat as you walk by her towards the house. Natasha doesn’t even know how to respond but nods furiously and mumbles that “she didn’t help much.”

“You can go now, Natasha,” your wife says curtly, and Natasha doesn’t question her and practically flees the premise.

***********************************************************************

It’s been a few weeks since the pool incident and Natasha is barely able to hold onto her sanity with the never-ending list of ridiculous tasks from your wife. When she holds a fundraiser meeting for a charity Natasha is sure she made up on her own, she calls on Natasha as her personal servant, forcing her to serve a collection of the snobbiest women in the neighborhood. Maybe I should take up meditation, Natasha thinks to herself as she prepares a third pitcher of iced tea because the first two “did not have the right balance of sugar to tea,” according to your wife, despite that Natasha had put in exactly one-third cup of sugar as requested.

Natasha doesn’t see you much around the house anymore, and she wonders if your wife purposely scheduled her around your work hours, or told you to stay away from her. She wants to ask you if there were any updates about Stan’s condition (there was no way she was going to get that information from your wife). She missed hearing your voice and seeing your smile…wait.

She shakes her head–she shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You’re her employer and you’re married (to a bitch). It would be entirely inappropriate and dangerous to pursue you, so she would just have to make do with ogling you from afar. Besides, a lot of her clients did not show her respect, likely due to the nature of her job, so just because you were courteous and respectful towards her, didn’t mean you felt a specific way about her.

“You know, Y/N used to be fat.” Natasha startles when your wife walks up behind her. She almost drops the picture frame she’d been dusting of the two of you on a beach, holding hands as you walked towards the sunset in the background.

“Excuse me?” Natasha asks. 

“Fat and poor,” Mrs. L/N adds, much to Natasha’s horror. 

“That’s an awful thing to say about your partner,” Natasha says.

She shrugs. “I don’t want anything to be sugarcoated for you. All of this–” She gestures around to the grandiose-ness of the house, and points to a more recent photo of you, where you’re carrying your wife in your arms, the bulge of your biceps and wideness of your shoulders stretching out your shirt. “–was not a thing when we first started dating. I was there when Y/N had nothing and was no one.”

“Okay.” Natasha wonders why she’s acting like she did you a favor, when you are clearly the catch in the relationship. But then it suddenly dawns on her the reason she’s saying this is because she knows Natasha might have a small crush on you.

“Y/N would never leave me, because I was there from the beginning,” Mrs. L/N says loftily.

“Of course,” Natasha says, fearing she has made a terrible mistake. “Y/N must be very lucky to have you.”

“You have no idea,” your wife smirks. “So let me be a reminder to keep things professional in my house. I’d hate for you to lose your job here. As far as I know, this is the only neighborhood that employs you, and your reputation is everything, isn’t it? One bad review could spoil the whole bunch, and you’d be off having to peddle your services elsewhere.” Icy fear pits at the bottom of Natasha’s stomach. “That is, if the police don’t pick you up first.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha whispers, even though she knows exactly what Mrs. L/N is talking about. She had been foolish to assume her past would never follow her, but how could your wife have found out? Clint had assured her that with a new name and a new location, she’d be untraceable. 

“Because they’d have to arrest you from stealing Y/N away from me,” Mrs. L/N laughs shrilly. Natasha chuckles nervously, although she was certain adultery was not a punishable offense in the state. “But I’m just joking. That would never happen, right?”

“Never,” Natasha promises, hoping her cover will stay hidden for now. 

“Good.”

***********************************************************************

“How was your day at work, honey?”

“Busy,” you grunt, moodily poking at the chicken pot pie Natasha had made before she went home. The food tastes good–it’s better than anything your wife has ever cooked, you think privately, but you don’t have much of an appetite. The end of the financial quarter was rapidly approaching and it had become extremely apparent to you that the profits of your company were not outweighing the expenses for the third quarter in a row. You were digging yourself a bigger and bigger grave, dipping into your personal investments to pay your way out of debt. It was the most stressful period of your life, with no relief in sight, and your wife wouldn’t understand the pressure.

“Sorry to hear that,” she says, although her words don’t come across as very genuine. “My day wasn’t so great either. I got into an argument earlier with Mrs. Harkness at the HOA meeting.” Your wife clicks her tongue. “Some of these women will go to war over their lawn decorations, I swear.”

A jab bubbles on the tip of your tongue; was she really trying to compare an HOA meeting to your very real, very stressful job running a business? But you stay quiet, shoveling another spoonful of pot pie into your mouth.

“Where’s Natasha?” you ask. Usually she stayed around for dinner (not that your wife would let her sit at the same table as you), but you hadn’t seen her in the house for a while.

“I ran out of time today, so I sent her out to grab some things for tomorrow,” she answers. When Natasha had first been hired, you had been under the impression that she was exclusively a housekeeper, helping with all the household chores your wife couldn’t complete. But you had heard about her running grocery trips and waiting on your wife and her friends during meetings, turning Natasha into more of a personal assistant than anything. You hoped she was okay with that; you knew how demanding your wife could be sometimes.

“Oh, okay.” You finish your helping of pot pie in silence, then go to place your plate in the dishwasher, before going into the bedroom to retire for the night. As you’re washing your face in the sink, you hear your wife pad up behind her.

“Sorry you’ve been really stressed lately,” she says, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. 

“It’s not your fault,” you respond, drying your face on a towel, going back into the bedroom to find your pajamas so you can take a shower.

“Y/N.” Your wife stops you as you’re searching through the dresser for your pajamas. When you look at her, she’s eyeing you with her bottom lip between her teeth. She struts towards you, slowly sinking to her knees and looking up at you. “Maybe I can do something to make you feel better?” 

With you being so busy with work and her busy with the new move, the two of you hardly had time for each other. Plus, your wife tended to be on the particular side and never seemed to be in the mood if you initiated. It was a little frustrating sometimes, but you found ways to cope and besides, it did make the times she was ready for you all the more enjoyable.

She pulls down your pants, palming at your boxers and causing you to groan. You unbutton your shirt as you feel your body start to heat up and let it slide off your shoulders. 

“Fuck, don’t tease me,” you grunt when she leans forward and nibbles on the exposed flesh of your thigh. 

“You need to savor the moment,” she says, although you can tell she’s just as impatient when she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your boxers and draws them down to the floor. Your heavy cock bobs out, slapping against your abs before your wife grabs onto it and brings it to her mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, tipping your head back when you feel her lips wrap around your cock. You wrap your hand in her hair, pumping your hips forward to sink your length into the heat of her throat. She grips onto your thighs to steady herself, the faintest of choking noise escaping her. You grunt in satisfaction, thrusting a little harder until the tip of your cock bumps the back of her throat. She whines louder, but doesn’t pull away, and your knees are practically shaking at the sight of her deepthroating all of you.  

“You’re doing so well,” you praise and her cheeks flush red. “Are you gonna let me finish in your mouth?” you ask, and she nods in response, the movement causing a burst of pre-cum to leak out of your cock. You stroke a stray hair out of her face so you can look into her eyes when you finish. “That’s my good girl.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha lets herself into your home, juggling three heavy bags that she’s pretty sure are cutting off the circulation to her fingers. She passes by the kitchen, confused to see it empty; when she had left the two of you were just settling down to eat. She puts the bags by the foot of the table, recalling the time Mrs. L/N had screamed at her for putting “dirty outside bags” on the place where you ate. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

Checking her phone, Natasha sees that your wife had sent her a text less than five minutes ago.

Natasha sighs. It had already been a long day, but she wasn’t given an ounce of leeway. She knows better than to walk away from an unfinished task (especially around your wife), so she trudges up the stairs and turns into the guest room. Hopefully her presence can go unnoticed, and your wife will magically find the folded clothes long after Natasha is gone. 

There are a total of three shirts and a pair of jeans left to fold. Natasha knows it would be too much to ask your wife to do on her own. She grits her teeth and folds the clothes, taking the better part of a minute, then looks around and realizes she doesn’t remember where she put the laundry basket. 

Maybe she had already brought it to the master bedroom, but she knew she couldn’t just leave it on the guest bed, or your wife would probably fire her. Natasha gathers up the clothes and walks down the hall to the master bedroom, but freezes in her tracks when she hears noises coming out of the bedroom.

Moaning noises, specifically.

Natasha can’t stop herself as she moves closer to the door, positioning herself to peer through the crack in between the door and the wall. She sees your wife on her knees, her head bobbing against your waist as you stand there, half-naked, moaning and thrusting your hips forward.

Natasha feels like she can’t breathe, totally shocked and embarrassed to have caught the two of you in a moment. She has a strange sense that your wife had set her up like this on purpose, but the thought quickly dissipates as she finds herself moving closer to the door.

“That’s my good girl.”

Natasha’s stomach flips when she hears you say this, even though it isn’t directed to her. But maybe one day it could be. 

She’s practically pressed up against the door, the fear of being caught burning away in her eagerness to keep watching you. The way the muscles in your stomach and thighs flex as your hips roll in a sinful rhythm. Natasha is almost ashamed at how fast she feels the arousal building in her own stomach.

You grunt louder and slow down as you seem to near release. Natasha can’t help but wonder what you must taste like and if she could even fit you down her throat. Your wife seems to be struggling with your size, but Natasha would do everything in her power to make you happy and not let any drop go to waste.

Without warning, your wife removes you from her mouth. Both you and Natasha gasp–you probably in frustration, and Natasha because she’s shocked at how big you are. Your cock is shiny with saliva and pre-cum and is so hard it looks like it’s about to burst.

“I didn’t finish,” you whine as your wife stands up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She puts her hand on your chest and pushes you back until you stumble onto the bed.

“I know. But I don’t want you to finish in my mouth, I want you to finish inside me.”

“Oh.” Your wife takes off her pants and climbs onto you.

Natasha knows how wrong it is for her to stand there and continue watching. She should’ve left a long time ago. But somehow, she knows your wife set her up to see this, and instead of running away in shame, Natasha is totally absorbed and her obsession with you only skyrockets. 

The headboard creaks against the wall as your wife rides you, both of you moaning in unison. Natasha’s eyes are stuck on you, trying to memorize your body’s reactions and wondering if she’d ever be the cause of them one day. You tilt your head back into the pillows, your back arching off the mattress, your hands wrapped around your wife’s waist as you thrust up into her. 

“I’m ready. I’m gonna cum,” you announce breathlessly.

Natasha hopes you’ll say those words to her one day. But she turns away as you finish, scolding herself for her unprofessional and frankly creepy behavior. She drops the folded clothes to the floor, knowing your wife will eventually find them and know of their origin. Maybe she’ll get fired for this; if anything, it’d be for the better. She doesn’t trust herself to be around you anymore–not that she’d ever be so bold as to make a move and disrespect your marriage, but she’d never be able to look at you the same way again.

She quickly pads down the stairs and leaves the house, the emptiness in her heart and core almost reaching a painful point.

***********************************************************************

You jerk your hips up a final time as you cum, dropping back onto the bed exhausted and spent. 

“Hmm, that was fun,” your wife pants against your neck, and you wrap your arm around her tightly, pulling her closer to your body. 

“We can shower together?” you suggest, digging your fingers teasingly into her naked hips. 

“Sure. Give me a minute.” She lays her head on your chest.

Despite your differences, you were truly happy to have this woman by your side through it all. She had been your longest supporter and that had meant everything to you when no one else believed in you.

You kiss her forehead softly. “I love you, Wanda.”

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

AN: Actually screaming and crying. Nat please come save us 😭

Click here for Part 2!

@holiday-house-of-m I finally kept my promise to you after 84 years.

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[3: “aww, you cheating’ on me?”]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spider!man ellie x reader

Ellie is feeling conflicted, on one hand she wants to tell you that she is Spider-Man but on the other hand, talking to you as ‘Spidey’ is just so much easier.. also, would you even like her as Ellie, could you like her without her being Spider-Man?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning, following the kiss, Ellie woke up with a headache, she couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of sleep, dehydration, or the fact that she kissed you— er, rather you kissed her but same difference.

Tommy and Maria weren’t home yet and Ellie didn’t have class until noon, so she decided to wake herself up by going for a lap around the city. She slipped on her suit, frowning under the mask while looking at herself in the mirror.

“Geez, this suit really does make me look flat” she sighed as she patted her chest, “Whatever..”

While most people enjoyed going for a jog or walk around the block, Ellie enjoyed swinging from rooftop to rooftop, she loved feeling the cold hair hit her skin through the surprisingly breathable fabric of her suit. Not to mention, she enjoyed the free perks that came with it, sometimes the owners of bakeries or cafes would wave her down and give her a hot cup of coffee (in a thermos of course) and a nice, sweet pastry or savoury breakfast sandwich to thank her for keeping the neighbourhood safe. Even if the pigs— um, I mean police didn’t like her, she was satisfied enough with gratitude from the rest of the city.

Ellie loved this part of her morning, children waving from the bus, the free coffee, and the music blaring through her airpods, well, she used to love it.. lately, something strange had been happening. No matter where she was in the city, she found herself somehow at your apartment, actually the building across from it. She didn’t really understand why she was so attracted to this place, maybe it was just force of habit? I mean, she was coming over every other night now, yeah, that had to be it.

This particular morning, she ended up right in front of it again. Her legs dangled from the rooftop as she sipped her coffee, her mask was lifted just enough to allow it.

“God, I should be dropping myself off at the station… I feel like a stalker,” she mumbled against the rim of the bottle, her eyes never leaving your balcony doors.

You were just waking up, you must have worked a late shift at that diner last night, Ellie thinks, she came to find out that not only do you work as a model, you double as a waitress.. it couldn’t stop her from wondering about where your family was in all this.

You stretched your arms and forced yourself out of your bed, the warm blankets wrapped around you as if they were pleasing you to come back to bed.

Ellie had your routine memorized by now. FIrst, you go to the restroom, brush your teeth, then came your skincare routine, you usually had something small for breakfast, then browsed on your phone for a bit or called your friend, then got ready for the day. This day was no different except for one little thing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Ah, hey Ellie,” you smiled warmly at the girl in front of you, her hair was messy almost like she had just gotten off a rollercoaster, “You’re right on time! I literally just finished getting ready haha.”

Ellie chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck, “Y-yeah, funny.”

Today, the two of you were spicing up your tutoring routine by studying in the morning because Ellie said she couldn’t do night for awhile.

“Ready to go,” you ask her, you were hoping to eat at this nearby cafe.

She nods and with that, the two of you make your way downstairs and through the buzzing city.

The two of you got a table in the corner after you placed your orders, Ellie studied your face carefully, you didn’t look phased at all by last night, “So, you get home okay last night?”

You nod but Ellie could see a faint blush creeping up your neck, “Y-yeah..”

Ellie’s smirk was hidden by her coffee cup, she was glad that she had left an impression on you,”Hm, that’s good.”

Although, Ellie was happy that she was the one making you blush, she knew that it was actually Spider-Man who made you blush which was what frustrated her. Could she ever make you blush like that..?

The rest of the session went smoothly but Ellie seemed more quiet than usual. Then after the two of you paid and left, she gave you a quick ‘bye’ before hopping on her skateboard and weaving her way through the crowded streets.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

That evening, you went to your friend Gwen’s house, you considered telling her all about how you kissed Spider-man but you decided against it, she might think that you’re lying for attention, I mean, you would think that too. So instead, you told her all about how Ellie was being so distant today.

“She totally likes you,” Gwen said as she popped a skittle into her mouth, “Remember, that’s what Abby did at first, too?”

You grimaced at the mention of your ex. Abby and you dated on and off for the first two years of college. When you first met her, she was.. nice.. (not). The two of you hooked up on the first night or orientation and from that night on and then from there, you kinda jumped into a relationship. It was very sweet and soft at first but as time went on, Abby began acting like a complete asshole. SInce joining the lacrosse team her ego was being stroked daily, by fan girls, her coach, and her team (even going as far as giving her the nickname ‘Flash’) which made her turn into a total egomaniac. You couldn’t stand being with her anymore so you broke it off, for awhile she’d stalk you, threaten girls who dare talk to you, and try to get her father’s company to hire you as an intern so that she could get closer to you.

“Ugh, Abby…” you took a sip of your beer, “Have you heard anything about her lately?”

Gwen shakes her head, “Nah, after that green goblin attack, no one has gotten in contact with her. Although, Harry tells me that he visited her the other day and she had a pretty broken arm but for the most part was okay, but she kept going on and on about Spider-Man and the fact that her dad died, I think that she’s blaming it on Spider, but I don’t know haha.”

You solemnly nod, even though you didn’t like her that much anymore, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Abby was an only child and her mom died when she was really young, so she really had nobody to rely on..

You didn’t want to be a downer so you pushed her out of your mind.

Meanwhile, green eyes were lingering on you from outside.

I should really be fighting a bad guy right now but can’t get you outta my mind, Ellie thought.

A good ten minutes or so went by and you left Gwen’s house, the rain beating the ground once again. Gwen’s apartment wasn’t that far from yours so you decided to walk. The cold rain felt good against your warm skin, you wondered what Ellie was up to, you should call her.

“Hello?” A raspy, exasperated voice comes from the other side.

“H-hey, Ellie,” you slurred out, “Can I come over?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Ellie says as she hands you a towel to dry your hair with.

“Thanks,” the walk from Gwens place to Ellies sobered you up and now you kept thinking to yourself ‘what the fuck am I doing here??’

Ellie nods and leans against the doorframe to her bedroom, “So… what’s up Y/n?”

You blush a bit, “N-nothin.. just wanted to say hi..”

She chuckles, “You came all the way here just to say hi? Must’ve really wanted to say hi, huh?”

Her teasing causes you to blush again, “Y-yeah, fuck, sorry this was dumb, I’ll lea—.”

Just as you’re making your way to the door, Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you closer, you’re now standing between her legs. Her green eye’s gaze up at you, “Nah, don’t leave..”

Your could feel your face going red and your heart beating faster, Ellie took another step closer to you, you could feel her breath against your skin.

Ellie didn’t know what was coming over her, for some reason when she was around you her spidey senses went dull and all rational thinking went out the window. Without a second to think, she was pinning you against the wall and her tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. She was kissing you like she wanted to devour you whole, her hands almost painfully gripping your waist and pulling you into her lap, your hair tangled in her damp hair and her knee in between your pretty legs.

You whimpered a bit, the pressure of her knee against your cunt sent shivers down your spine. Hearing your sweet whimper, she pressed her leg up a bit more into you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Ellie mumbles against the skin of your neck.

What does that mean? Whatever.. you can’t think straight when her mouth is hitting all the sensitive parts of your neck.

You had no idea Ellie was so masterful, you had assumed that she was nerdy virgin. You never would’ve guessed that this was the same girl who blushes over your teasing and could only ever make eye contact with you through the lens of a camera. Her kiss felt weirdly familiar and made your knees buckle, making you crave more.

“C-can we take this to your room?” You whimper out, pulling yourself away from Ellie so you can gaze into her pretty eyes.

Her eyes were full of animalistic need but her words betrayed her, “Actually.. n-no.. sorry, I should get to sleep.. It’s late and don’t you have a shift at Ma and Pop’s Diner?”

Your face dropped.. how could her eyes be so full of hunger but her voice full of conflicting, “O-oh, okay.. yeah.”

You grabbed your coat and ventured into the rainy night once more.

Again, there were no taxies and your feet hurt like hell from the stupid heels you were wearing.

“Gotta love New York,” you sarcastically muttered under your breath as you made your way down the street, passing the same alley where you had that amazing kiss, you sigh. What was up with everyone leaving you after one kiss??

Even though your feet hurt, you did not feel like almost getting murdered so you avoided the alley, only for you to forget your lesson and make your way down another alley a few blocks down. It was a little more it and was behind a church so it should be safe, you thought to yourself

The single light in the alley flickered like a candle, making you a little more anxious almost like you thought that a single gust of wind would make the electric lightbulb flicker out.

As you trudged through the alley, your mind couldn’t help but drift back to Ellie.. what was up with her? First, she pushes you away and now she, obviously, wants to fuck you but is telling you to get out? You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes, not because you were sad but mainly because you were frustrated and humiliated.

“What’s wrong?” After you left, Ellie decided to make sure that you got back to your apartment safely, I mean, it was the least she could do, right?

You whip around, your face now mere inches from that familiar masked figures.

You gasp a bit, “I-It’s you, again..”

“You say that a lot,” Spider-Man chuckles and releases himself from his web, “So.. what’s got this pretty girl down in the dumps, hm?”

You wipe a tear from your face, “I-It’s nothin’, just girl trouble..”

“Aww, you cheatin’ on me,” he teases, you know he’s only joking but a blush creeps onto your cheeks, “That’s not very nice.”

“I-I’d never do that to you,” you attempt to tease him back but the stutter in your words making you sound a little to genuine.

“So, who’s the lucky lady,” he hums out, “Come on, you can tell good ol’ Spidey.”

“Oh.. I don’t know about lucky but…. S-she’s a girl in my biology class at NYU, she’s really smart and funny, a little awkward and nerdy—,” ‘Ouch, Ellie thinks to herself, “ but I don’t know.. we were making out and then she forces me out of her apartment, well, not forced but it felt like it? I don’t know, it was really embarrassing and—.”

“I-I’m sure she had her reasons!”

You frown, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Crickets.

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” He said, obviously trying to deflect.

Before you could say yes, he wraps his arm around your waist and the two of you slingshot into the air, your arms hanging tightly around his neck. The rain stopped and the wet city passed underneath your feet, it looked like a tiny glowing ant colony. The night breeze made you shutter a bit and the feeling of Spidey’s warmth made you want to snuggle further into him, he smelled of.. pine and.. you couldn’t place it but a very familiar cologne…

Spidey takes you to a church in the heart of the city, it’s architecture very gothic with a bell on the top, that’s where he takes you. There’s a stone canopy above the bell, allowing for the two of you to sit somewhere dry.

“I like to come here when I’m feeling bad about things,” he collapses onto the ground, chest heaving, he’s obviously not used to swinging around with a person on his hip for extended periods of time.

“It’s nice,” you sit next to him and gaze up into the gigantic bell.

For awhile, you forget all about Ellie, your mind focused on the hero in front of you. The two of you talk about everything and anything, about spiders, of course, the crime problem, and finally, you reach the topic of music which seems to get him going.

You pull your phone out and the two of you listen to music for a bit, he seems to really be enjoying it, it’s almost like he’s never had anyone to talk to about this, you think for a bit.

Just as you’re about to play another song, you see rays of sunshine run onto your skin.

“Shit, mornin’ already,” Spidey sits up, covering his eyes with his arm, “Guess, I should get you home.”

You frown but nod, and the two of you make your way through the city, once again.

Reaching your apartment, you had given him directions, the two of you stand awkwardly on the roof.

“Thanks for cheering me up.. you really are ‘friendly,’ huh?” you joke.

“Yeah, well, y’know, gotta live up to the name.” he chuckles.

You smile, “Well… see ya, later Spidey.”

Once you’re inside your apartment, you close your door and throw yourself onto your bed, giggling and kicking your feet.

You let out content sigh, what a night.. the events of it flash through your mind, the way his laugh sounds, how excited he got talking about music, and…. wait…

“Am I crazy or does Spider-Man have boobs?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part four here!

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog

[natalievoncatte]

1. Leaves

Lena was, in all honesty, having the time of her life. Since they’d arrived here, she had finally relaxed. Really relaxed. Lex was gone. Capital-G Gone. The last of Cadmus had been mopped up. The Conpany was no longer a problem- L-Corp was being sold off, from entire divisions down to sales of old office chairs. The Estate and nine-tenths of the family holdings were all being sold off, and the money quietly funneled into a holding company. Sam Arias would manage Lena’s wealth.

Lena had nothing to do anymore, and it was glorious. She’d done what she’d never done in her entire life: rest. She ate when was hungry, slept when she was tired. She stayed up late finishing a thriller novel she’d grabbed off one of Kara’s tables and slept it off the following day. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, so one day she said, “Let’s go watch the leaves change.”

“Not much of that in National City,” Kara had said, not looking up from her laptop.

Lena was flipping channels when she made the suggestion, another pedestrian activity that had been too far beneath her to ever indulge during her CEO days.

“I’m serious,” said Lena. “I’ll rent us a cabin, book a flight, and we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Vermont, or maybe New Hampshire.”

Kara looked up. “I could just fly us.”

“Short distances only,” said Lena.

Kara weighed it for a moment. She looked at Lena for a drawn out instant, eyes darting this way and that. Lena knew she had a deadline; she had become privy to the details of Kara’s life ever since she started couch surfing at Kara’s place after dumping her chic penthouse on some petroleum heir from the Emirates.

She had been “crashing” at Kara’s place for three months and had her own key, but they weren’t talking about it. Lena had remained on the couch, falling asleep to YouTube videos of molten lava and cat purring sounds, while Kara puttered around the house.

There were moments of tension. Pauses during shared meals. Moments when they pressed closed on sofa, times when Kara got up to go to bed and Lena felt this yearning to follow that she never quite obeyed.

Kara was thinking. Hard.

“Rent a cabin?”

“Yeah, someplace remote. So you can take a break. You’ve been working harder than ever, Darling. It almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Kara swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll fly. The regular way.”

They did, arriving in Maine less than a day later. Lena rented a Land Rover (because they were on an Adventure) and did all the driving, three hours from the airport to the cabin.

Kara rode in silence, though Lena heard her gasp.

The trees were beautiful. They were alive with color, as if an impressionist master had made the world a canvas and run riot. It was more than a mass of reds and yellows and oranges. It was astonishing.

It was dark when they arrived at the cabin. Lena had chosen one with two bedrooms, though she hesitated when she did. It had a full kitchen with a gas stove and all the amenities but also a fire pit and picnic table and gazebo, and overlooked a private swath of a small lake. It was like something out of a Bob Ross painting.

They were both tired from the flight, or at least Lena was, and turned in right away. When she rose the next day, she cheerily told her cabin-mate she was headed into town to get some supplies.

Kara went out to chop wood. Lena, of course, watched a few swings before leaving. Kara didn’t really need an axe but Lena didn’t care; she was preoccupied watching the muscles of Kara’s shoulders and back as she swung the splitting maul.

Lena got back before noon and carried the groceries inside, enough for her to use the fancy kitchen to prepare a mighty feast for her companion.

She didn’t hear the sobs until she had most of it put away. Lena bolted to the back door and stopped.

Kara was sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the long board that acted as a seat. She was holding a single golden leaf on her hand, studying it and sobbing softly to herself.

“Kara?”

She looked up, soft blue eyes wet with tears. Lena felt a wave of grief but also panic, rushing to the table.

“Kara, what’s wrong?”

“I,” Kara started. “Lena, I’m scared.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Why?”

Kara looked at the leaf. “Another year past. The leaves turn colors and fall, school starts, things change.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alex is married now. They’ve got a kid to raise. Nia and Brainy will probably get married soon. We hadn’t had a game night in two months.”

Lena swallowed. Kara was right. When Lena had first joined, then rejoined, this wonderful found family had been aggressively social, and now they forgot to text as often as not. They all spent more time at home or at their real jobs than at the Tower. The world had just started moving on. Kara didn’t even wear the cape every day anymore.

“I know,” said Lena, her voice thick. “But you’ve got me.”

Lena felt her pulse start to race. Kara had been so distant, she couldn’t help wonder if she was enough. If boring, retired Lena wasn’t enough. Oh God, what if Kara was thinking about going to Argo? Or the future?

“Not forever,” said Kara, her voice cracking like glass. She let the leaf drop from her fingers. “Eventually you’ll go. All of you. Brainy, Nia, Alex, Clark if he doesn’t come back from Argo. You.”

“Oh,” Lena said, softly. “Oh, Kara.”

“I think I might be immortal,” Kara whispered. “I don’t feel any aches or pains. Nothing about me changes. I don’t forget things like people do. My body just keeps repairing itself and it never makes any mistakes. What if I’m just like this forever? Or even a thousand years? What if everyone is gone and their kids are gone and no one knows who I am anymore?!” she was frantic now, the words coming too fast.

Lena reached out, tentatively. She put her hands on Kara’s shoulders and pulled herself in, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

Birds chirped, the waters of the lake made soft glug-glugs, and all around them was the soft tapping sound of the leaves, already letting go.

“I won’t leave you,” Lena whispered. “Kara, I won’t. If I have to live forever I will. I’ll find a way. Tech, magic, fifth dimensional imps. I’ll find a way.”

Kara sighed, arms firmly around her.

“Do you need space?” Lena asked. “I could leave you alone for a bit. Look for a place when we get back, so I’m not on the couch all the time.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Kara blurted, almost cutting her off. “I know I’ve been distant, it’s just… I keep looking at you and thinking about all the time I’ve lost and all the mistakes I’ve made and how I’ll regret it forever. We have so little time and I’m so scared I’ll lose you.”

Lena pulled back to look at her. “We have a long time to make more memories. As many as we can.”

“I’ll lose you too,” said Kara. “I know you want more. A family, a partner. You’ll start to have less time for me. You’ll all just fall away and I’ll be stuck here alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara started to pull away. Lena stopped her with a tug on her arms. It stunned her, sometimes, how she could overpower a god with her tiny human hands. How she could stun the other whirlwind or a touch.

“Kara,” said Lena. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Me?” Kara squeaked.

Lena cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I mean, I didn’t dress like that and go stag for the hell of it. I just lost my nerve and you seemed so overwhelmed.”

Kara blinked a few times.

“You want me?” said Kara.

Lena felt a cold rush of terror. She’d just blurted it out, artlessly, unplanned.

“Like want me want me? Like kissing want me?”

Lena licked her lips. “Yes. I’d like to kiss you right now, if you let me.”

Kara settled back into the table, leaning forward. Lena leaned in, pushing her back slightly, moving her hands from shoulders to hips, scoring the way Kara tensed and trembled. She was hardly inexperienced, Lena knew, but something about this felt like a first kiss, even for her. It tasted like one, too, down to the quivery way their lips met.

Kissing quickly became something more. Lena didn’t know if she was pulling or Kara pushing. It didn’t much matter; the path led to the bed in Kara’s room, marked by a trail of shed clothing.

Years of anticipation overwhelmed them both; dinner was forgotten, and they didn’t even emerge until the next day.

It was in the morning sun, the light turning Kara’s skin gold, that Lena saw it. Twisted within one of the curling locks of hair, splayed around Kara’s head on the pillow, was a faintly visible thread of purest silver, chased through the gold like an engraver’s masterpiece. Lena couldn’t help but twirl the errant strands around her finger.

As Kara slept, she looked up through the window and watched the wind as it caressed the leaves.

[dadvans]

Your latest ficlet is so good… I can’t stop thinking about Tommy having to tell Buck about their 10 year old, it’s delicious

(part one)

There really isn’t much cool to do in Ukiah. Buck told Tommy this and he could hear Tommy rolling his eyes over the phone the way he said, “Buck, we live in Tehama, she’ll cope,” and then Tommy had said, “we can all go to a park, you can kill me and they’ll never find the body, it’ll be a great way for you two to bond.”

So, just before noon on a Saturday morning one month after the CFCA, Buck sees his daughter for the first time in person, watches her as she practically dislocates Tommy’s arm as they enter his favorite coffee shop and she bounces right up to the counter, braids swinging. It’s quiet, morning rush over and lunch rush yet to come, so he hears Tommy say, “you can have one flavor.” He hears his daughter’s voice for the first time when she leans on the butcher block counter top, smiling, and says, “a white hot chocolate with raspberry, please,” like she’s getting away with murder.

“That’s a small,” Tommy says, “and a medium drip, thanks. For here.”

“With whipped cream,” their daughter adds.

“None for me,” Tommy says, as if automatic. Like they’ve done this a hundred times. Maybe they have. He digs out his credit card and taps it against the register screen before he actually looks up and around to spot Buck sitting in the far corner. He nods. Buck raises a tentative hand, gives a small wave, and then Tommy is leaning down and getting their daughter’s attention, pointing him out.

She skips over while Tommy waits at the counter.

Buck wants to puke.

“Hi,” she says, and she reaches out a hand like she’s a little adult. “I’m Mary.”

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” Buck says, by some miracle finding his voice. He shakes her hand. “I’m uh, I’m Buck.”

“Daddy said your name is Evan,” Mary says, letting go and sitting down.

“Oh, yeah, Buck’s just my nickname. It’s what my friends call me. So, you can call me Buck too.

“Evan’s my middle name,” she continues, as if she didn’t hear or care. His daughter. “Mary Evan. Evan’s usually a boy’s name, but girls can be named Evan too. Like Evan Rachel Wood. She’s the mom in Frozen Two.”

“Yeah,” Buck says weakly. He didn’t know that, even if Jee made him watch everything Frozen before she hit high school. “My niece used to love that movie.”

Tommy walks over to join them, two mugs on little plates in hand. The smaller one has a mountain of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a straw.

“Here’s your cup of sugar, kid,” he says, sliding it in front of Mary before sitting down with his own. He takes a sip and gives an approving nod. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, I like this place,” Buck says, trying to keep his tone even. “They roast their own beans, so my house gets their coffee from here.”

“That must make you popular,” Tommy says, voice wry but not unkind, “Chief.”

“Daddy says you’re a Chief that doesn’t fly helicopters but still fights fires,” Mary says. The table shakes a little, because she’s kicking her feet.

“Uh, yup, just a boring, regular firefighter,” he replies. He can’t stop looking at her. Even with her braids she’s got frizz coming out from underneath her beanie bright red, redder than he was when he was her age but without ever seeing a picture of Tommy as a kid he’s sure she gets it from him. Her eyes are blue like the Pacific Ocean, murky and deep. She’s wearing a puffer vest and long sleeves even though it’s late September. Tommy always ran cold too, he remembers, thinking of the one summer they shared together.

“That’s not boring,” Mary tells him, so serious, before taking a sip of her drink. “I like engines more than helicopters. Did you know helicopters have a thirty-percent higher chance of crashing than planes? I’m learning percentages in school.”

His heart bursts. Yeah. She’s his fucking kid.

[earthtooz]

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.” 

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.” 

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine arriving to the siege of Gondor with Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas.

Orc: 'Late as usual, Pirate-scum! There's knife-work here that needs doing.'

Orc: 'Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!'

Aragorn leaps over the side of the ship, brandishing his sword. Legolas and Gimli nimbly land on the ground while Y/N trips over a rope and lands on her behind.

Y/N: Uh... noone saw that.

Y/N scrambles up with the help of Legolas.

Aragorn draws his his sword, advancing towards the orcs.

Gimli: 'There's plenty for the four of us! May the best Dwarf win!'

The legions of ghost men charge the orcs, over running them. They storm the area with Aragorn leading them. Y/N begins to draw near the front lines.

Y/N: 'Fourteen!'

Legolas: 'Fifteen, Sixteen!'

Gimli: 'Seventeen!'

Y/N: 'ARE YOU GUYS CHEATING?'

Y/N dodges a sword before spinning around and slicing the Orc's head off. She draws an extra blade, advancing towards the Oliphaunts.

Y/N spots Gothmog and a grin of malice appears on her lips.

Y/N: 'Hello there Lieutenant.'

She slices his axe wielding arm off before stabbing one blade through his chest. Y/N sneers.

Y/N: 'Seems like you need a hand.'

Y/N draws back both blades and slices his head off cleanly.

Y/N: 'Too Bad!'

Aragorn: 'Legolas!'

Y/N: 'Wanna go for a ride?'

Legolas and Y/N grin at each other, racing towards the tusk of the giant creature, scaling up it's ivory tusks and body.

Legolas: 'Thirty-three, thirty-four.'

Y/N: 'Thirty-five Thirty-six. I'm going to lose count..

She whips her head around to look for Legolas.

Y/N: 'Bring it down Legolas!'

Legolas swings to the rope holding the saddle up, slicing through it. The large saddle falls, along with the people riding the Oliphant.

Y/N: 'Those were mine too. I helped.'

Legolas laughs before running to the head of the Oliphant and shooting three arrows into its head, bringing the beast crashing down.

Gimli: 'That still only counts at one!'

Y/N bursts into laughter, a hand on her hip.

Slowly, Minas Tirith is taken back. The orcs are driven back and the city is swamped by the dead army. As the battle ends, The Dead King finds his way to Aragorn

The King of the Dead: 'Release us.'

Gimli: 'Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot' these lads. Despite the fact they're dead.'

The King of the Dead: 'You gave us your word.'

Aragorn: 'That I did. I hold your oath fulfilled. Go. Be at peace.'

The wind wafts over the ghostly army, seemingly blowing away the men like dust.

Y/N grimaces and plops down. Drawing her hand away from her side.

Legolas: 'Y/N? What is wrong?'

Y/N: 'Nothing.'

She winces.

Y/N: 'Just got a nick.'

Legolas quickly kneels down, scooping her up.

Y/N: 'Wow look at you, ever princely, are you. I can walk y'know.

Legolas rolls his eyes, starting off to the city.

Legolas: 'I know.'

Y/N: 'Do you not have any questions for me?'

Legolas: 'No my lady. I have faith in you. You have led us thus far. Frodo and Sam must be fine for you to be here with us.'

Y/N sighs,

Y/N: 'I hope so, I don't know if I made the right decision.'

Legolas: 'Rest, you have done enough for today. Rest, my lady.'

Y/N:'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you held affection for me Ernil Nin (My prince.)'

Legolas: 'Rest.'

Legolas holds back a smile, continuing his pace to Minas Tirith.

[bigification]

Corporate

John had coasted through his twenties like he thought everyone did. He got a quick degree in business and spent the next ten years traveling, partying, and fucking... A lot. His parents let him do whatever he wanted as long as he got a degree, they didn't say anything about using the degree.

He excused his behavior because every other rich white guy he partied with was doing the same thing. He had never even had an extended conversation with someone outside of the 1 percent, and it showed.

Hey, I mean at least he was really good at the one thing he did. To the point that he wouldn't remember most nights, only waking up with women's clothes in his bed. He would start swinging his massive dick around as soon as he got drunk and it wouldn't take long for someone to drag him to bed.

But it couldn't last forever. 30 came faster than he thought and it hit him like a truck. He couldn't drink like he used to, he couldn't party as hard as wanted to. His hairline was starting to recede and his six pack was disappearing under what would soon be a small beer belly. There were starting to be consequences for his actions. And as if it couldn't get any worse for poor John, his parents let him know what his birthday present was for this year. Every year prior had been something extravagant like a yacht or a sports car, so he was really looking forward to the big gift to make 30 not seem so bad.

Two weeks before his birthday, John received a text saying that his parents would take away his generous allowance if he didn't get a job by the time he was 30. His heart skipped a beat, he thought it was some big joke. He thought back to the times his parents had asked him to get a job before but he never thought they were serious. Though they did ask a lot now that he's thinking of it, and they didn't sound like they were joking.

John texted back, "haha, but seriously what is it?" Hoping they would back off and he could go back to being the old guy at all the yacht parties he threw. But they put their put down this time, threatening his 200k a month allowance and his present he was expecting for his birthday.

One week of the adult equivalent of kicking and screaming later, John gives in. Now he only has one week before it starts to cut into his allowance. He scrambled to make a shitty resume, assuming a business degree would get him any job he wanted.

He nervously clicked on a link his dad sent him to a company that works under his father's business. He submitted his resume and waited. It didn't take long for him to get a response and John patted himself on the back for making such a good resume. Although they obviously never even opened the resume, just going off of his father's recommendation.

He set up an interview for just before his birthday, and continued to party like he was still 20. He woke up the day of the interview, hungover and still wearing his disgusting clothes from the night before. He was nearly falling asleep at the wheel as he hadn't woken up before noon in ages, 10 am was such a ridiculous time to set an interview.

He stumbled into the expensive looking building and stood in front of reception.

"How can I help you?" The young lady behind the counter asked.

"Ugh... Yeah I could think of a few ways you could help me." John winked and gave a lazy smile.

"Sir, if you don't have any business here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The lady raised her voice, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Whatever, I'm here for an interview."

"What's your name?"

"John Fitzgerald."

The lady looked up for a moment, recognizing the name. She shook her head in disappointment as she grabbed the phone to call that he had arrived... only thirty minutes late.

A few moments later, an older man in a tailored suit approached the front desk. He walked right past John and asked the receptionist to point him in the direction of John. The lady looked over at John and raised her eyebrows to suggest he was right there. The older man turned and put on a fake smile to hide his disapproval.

"Follow me." The man put on a cheap up beat voice.

The man walked him down to a private office and opened a closet. He grabbed a dress shirt and black dress pants and basically shoved into John's chest.

"No man that respects himself wears those clothes to an interview, put these on." He let his anger slip through a bit.

"Wait really!?" John seemed perplexed. He thought he would answer a few questions about what he liked to do and that would be it.

"Yes, go on."

John sheepishly took off his shirt, revealing the small belly that had grown over his abs. It even bounced a bit as he pulled off his shirt. He then pulled down his pants to reveal his batman boxers that did nothing hide the massive bulge between his legs.

He slipped on the dress shirt, letting it spill to his knees like a dress. Then he pulled up the dress pants and held them at his waist. They were nearly 10 inches too long around the waist, and 5 inches too short, making them ride up his calves.

"They're too big!" John complained.

The man scoffed and grabbed a belt from the closet. Though the belt was also too big, leaving John still holding up the pants.

"They're still too big!" John whined.

"Oh just shut up. How long is this supposed to take." The old man looked impatiently at his watch.

"How long is wha-" John began to ask before pausing briefly, followed by a loud burp that seemed to make the room tremble.

John tried to talk but couldn't. He felt slow and groggy, more than he had before. The only noises he could muster were grunts as a warm feeling filled his stomach. Suddenly his hips thrusted forward and he let out a grunt. John looked down in horror as a sizable beer belly was now hiding under his oversized shirt. His hips thrusted again and his belly had doubled in size, making him look pregnant. One more thrust and a loud grunt and his fat gut doubled in size once more. It bounced up and down as it filled all the room in his massive shirt, finally drooping over his waistband.

John wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The only noises that came from his mouth were moans and grunts that sounded more and more sexual the more his body changed.

His sides soon followed, growing thick love handles that widened his once skinny frame, even spreading to his lower back. His chest puffed forward as his pecs disappeared under a thick layer of fat. His soft man tits finally rested on his gut, pushing up against his shirt and making them impossible to miss.

John looked up in desperation at the older man that stood before him, but he was just staring at his watch. Though he noticed something strange. He was looking up at the man, when he could have sworn that he looked down on him when he first met him. He took pride in his height, so he would have remembered being shorter than him.

This time his body thrusted backwards, making him nearly fall with his new center of gravity. With each thrust he felt the pants get tighter and tighter until his cheeks filled out all of the room in those size 42 pants. At least he didn't have to hold them up anymore. His thighs then thickened into fat tree trunks, permanently rubbing together and squishing his dick in between. Though that last part wouldn't last long, while his ever growing fat pad swallowed inches of his dick, it began to shrink as well. He felt it recede into his soft fat pad, now only having the tip peaking out of his fat. He stuffed his hand between his meaty thighs to try and find it but it wasn't there.

John then felt pressure building up around his feet until a loud POP rang through the office. He looked down to see what happened but it was blocked by his massive gut. Though the feeling of his bare feet on the ground suggested that his feet burst out of his shoes.

His arms began to twitch fat filled them like sausages, making them drop under their own weight. His hands also doubled in size as his fingers started to look thickened. He wanted to react, but it was starting to get hard to remember what he was texting to. All he could think about was finance.

Finally his face began to change. His young and spy look got covered in soft fat and wrinkles, aging him up at least 10 years. His hairline receded as thick sideburns covered his nonexistent jawline and his stubble formed a prominent mustache and goatee combo.

John let out a loud burp as his stomach grumbled. He grunted a few more times as he desperately tried to reach his crotch, but he was unsuccessful. He noticed his boss in front of him and tilted his head back to make eye contact with the man that is now much taller than him.

"What are we doing in your office boss?" John asked.

"Oh, you just had a wardrobe malfunction that's all." The boss said as he passed John a pair of shoes and a tie. "It's on the house since you've been such a good employee the last 10 years. I certainly don't mind getting you bigger clothes when you outgrow your current ones."

John panted and grunted trying to get his shoes on, he wasn't used to the extra padding all over his body. Despite that, he knows that he has been quite fat for many years now as memories of the last 10 years of his life flood in.

"Can't forget the wedding ring." The boss said as he slipped a nice ring into John's hand. "I just love that husband of yours, he is such a great cook. No wonder you gained so much weight after your marriage. It's almost like he got you pregnant." The boss chuckled.

John's face went blank as the memories of him coming out in his thirties and marrying the man that he loves. And he remembers the positive pregnancy test he had just before his 40th birthday.

"Oh my god, you are pregnant!" The boss shouted then covered his mouth. "Your secret's safe with me. Oh and also, I'll order some massive clothes for ya so you won't have to worry about it big guy." The boss said quietly as John left his office.

[midnightskookie]

jungkook deserved the world so despite earning millions, he never fails to buy you flowers, yet despite his refusal, you never fail to buy him flowers too. specifically tiger lillies...

jungkook deserved the worldso he deserved munching on the most delicious meals where'd you'd wake up and start cooking as early as possible just to watch the way his brows furrow, his mouth pout and hear the moans of contempt spill from his throat.

jungkook deserved the world so no matter how much you wanted to see the sparkle in his eyes and the laughter coming from his lips, it meant letting him sleep in till after noon letting him rejuvenate on sleep from working late into the night.

jungkook deserved the world so you were always at his beck and call any time of day for cuddles, legs and fingers intertwined

jungkook deserved the world so he was the centre of your attention. peppering small kisses on his face and softly scraping your nails against his scalp. listening intently to his rambles and putting your phone down as soon as he opened his mouth.

jungkook deserved the world so you massaged all his aches and pains away after a long day of practice or sitting at a table.

jungkook deserved the world so you took him out at night for fresh air, a way to be out of the public's eye, intertwined fingers and clasped swinging hands, giggling late into the night as if there were no worries.

jungkook deserved the world so you tried your best to make time to bring him food for him and his members.

jungkook deserved the world so you learnt how to play his favourite games beside him. laughing and pouting when nothing went your way. making an effort to learn and improve in your free time when he wasn't with you.

jungkook deserved the world so anytime he beat himself about his performance during the day, you'd kiss his worries away, affirm and reassure him with soft rubs against his back or with your arms wrapped around his shoulder with your head on top of his.

[keyotos]

can i request any hsr characters sleepover hcs w/ gn reader?

nights like this

summary ⎯ sleepover hcs w/ the hsr men! you basically stay over.

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, & jing yuan.

tana's words ⎯ yk i was never much of a sleepover kid as a kid; i missed my mother too much. this is kinda short. maybe bad bc i had writers block during this. anyway i hope u enjoy anon!!!

dan heng

⎯ terrible sleeper. sleep schedule is messed up. sometimes he goes to sleep at 12 (early), sometimes 6 am (late).

⎯ when you're with him, he sleeps a little better (sleeping at 2 instead of 6). your rhythmic breathing always manages to set him at ease, which causes him to relax and sleep better.

⎯ you guys like to read together before bed. he reads at a faster pace than you do, but that's okay bc he's always waiting for you to finish a page before he moves on. doesn't matter how long you take; he'll wait forever as long as it's you.

⎯ before y'all became official, you'd sneak into dan heng's room just to hang out. but that always ended up in you two sleeping on his floor mattress together. was it comfortable? no. was it enjoyable? yes. bc ur with dan heng.

⎯ he sleeps with his entire body literally draped over yours. you guys take the phrase, "tangled limbs," to the max. sometimes when you wake up, it's practically like a puzzle trying to get yourself out of his grip.

⎯ dan heng is always cold at night, so naturally he pulls you closer for warmth. only, he pulls you so close that it still isn't close enough.

⎯ he's not the deepest sleeper, but he sleeps pretty well (when he's not having nightmares). you are mostly a part of the reason why he is able to sleep better.

⎯ dan heng tries to sleep in your room as much as possible; mostly because your bed is usually more comfortable and because he wants to feel you in between his arms

⎯ likes to kiss you on your eyebrow before bed

⎯ you two ARE NOT getting out of bed until like noon. you guys would wake up early but you'd both just stay in bed foreverrrrr. dan heng loves being near you in general: dan heng wants you to stay in bed with him for life sometimes. and you're not arguing.

gepard

⎯ he is the man you'd have a night routine with. i'm talking like skincare routines, brushing teeth together, facemasks, watching the news before bed. you guys are like a little old couple.

⎯ when you'd do skincare with him, gepard would let you sit in between his legs on the counter. it's just hot.

⎯ swings an arm around you as you two brush your teeth. like his arm is around your shoulders and he is unknowingly pulling you deep into his chest. and he's just leaning on you. it's bc he's comfortable with you and he is secretly really touchy.

⎯ he has a relatively good sleep schedule. he's probably not getting the right amount of sleep due to his duties, but he gets more sleep than dan heng!

⎯ cuddles you when you two go to sleep. you guys would sleep face to face and he'd rest his head on top of yours while you guys are sleeping. he pulls you so close.

⎯ on nights he can't sleep, you two just lie awake and talk. talk about each other's days, pet peeves, future dreams: gepard finds solace with you no matter what. he's the type of person to have deep conversations about the future with because he has probably planned it out.

⎯ you two would be in bed and gepard would accidentally blurt out that he wants to marry you. and then he's a mess.

⎯ sleeps so peacefully. no nightmares no nothing. nothing disturbs his sleep (except for his alarm). he's just so peaceful and content just being in bed with you.

⎯ wants to stay in bed with you forever but he actually has to wake up super early. before he leaves, he always kisses your forehead and places a kiss to your knuckles. you're always asleep when it happens so it's just his secret routine.

⎯ he likes to admire you before he leaves. he wants to study every crevice on your face like you're a famous artwork in a museum. thinks about you for the entire day. then he gets home and all of his past problems have diminished.

blade

⎯ he's probably too busy plotting VENGEANCE to think about sleep.

⎯ im jp. he loves sleeping, especially if you're there next to him. he thinks being able to sleep with you is one of the best things that have been granted to him by the aeons.

⎯ you're just too adorable. you like to come up and wrap your arms around his torso, while he's sleeping on his back with an arm around your entire body. he wraps an arm around you to make sure you wouldn't fall off/he wants to keep you close to him. it's a reminder that you're here and you're so peaceful against him.

⎯ he sleeps so late. you would always fall asleep first. you always fall asleep on him so his arm is always numb. but blade doesn't mind, especially when it's you.

⎯ likes to be a fucking TEASE before bed. omg he's like a like roblox troll. his hands are usually cold, so he'd reach under your shirt and like put his hands around your ribcage. it surprises you and makes you jump up into him, which is why he does it.

⎯ blade does not move when he sleeps. he sleeps perfectly still. he isn't a deep sleeper, just a still sleeper. he's hypervigilant, but he manages to stay in the same spot throughout the entire night. that being said, the way his arm/shoulder/whatever body part you're sleeping on becomes numb in the morning...

⎯ blade may seem like a simple guy, but he is not. every time he pulls you closer, he intends to keep you with him for the rest of his life. he likes to bury his head in your hair to remind himself of you; he wants to remember the smell of your shampoo for ages.

⎯ when he wakes up and he sees that you've moved away from him, blade likes to pull you back in.

sampo

⎯ another horrible sleeper. it's bc of his "business hours" that he arrives home at terrible hours.

⎯ sneaks into bed with you... always wakes you up. you give him a oblictatory smack on the shoulder every time he does this, but to your (mock) dismay, he always pulls you on top of him.

⎯ sleeps and does not wake back up. you have to like violently shake him to even get him to stir out of sleep. he arrives home so late and, to make up for lost hours, he sleeps for so long.

⎯ grabs you and does not let you go. you're pressed against him and awake while bro is dead asleep. it's like a whole mission trying to get out of his grip.

⎯ he is so MOUTHY when he wakes up; somehow he regains all energy that he missed out on the previous night and wakes up all happy and clingy. tries to GO BACK TO SLEEP after he realizes the both of you are awake.

⎯ the type to be like, "five more minutes," mf you have slept for FIVE DAYS. he'll use every trick in the book too; he'll do the pout, puppy dog eyes, even going so far as to beg and plead on his knees in the bed.

⎯ and of course, you stay in for five more minutes. i lied, you guys stay in for more than five minutes. you agreed because of his incessant pestering, but also bc you love him i guess.

⎯ he gets home really late and you barely get to see him at night, so for now, you suppose you'll settle for late mornings with sampo.

jing yuan

⎯ GREAT SLEEPER. PERFECT FOR NIGHT ROUTINES. PERFECT FOR MORNING ROUTINES.

⎯ as general, he doesn't have the hectic sleep schedule like dan heng, and he also does not have to wake up as early as gepard. he gets to sleep early with you and he gets to wake up and spend the morning with you as well.

⎯ sometimes yanqing likes to spend time with you in the morning. he goes in to remind jing yuan of something but he ends up staying for one hour bc you two strike up a conversation filled with widely various topics.

⎯ on mornings yanqing doesn't come in, you two just spend the whole morning talking about your plans for the day. your schedules are around the same length as each other, so you two barely have time to spend together during the day. but at least you two have your mornings and nights.

⎯ nights are great. you two like to talk about your days while you lay side to side, head resting on jing yuan's chest. your breathing is synchronized, not uneven. you feel safe, at peace, and calm.

⎯ yk that couples that fall asleep quickly together are chemically bonded? yeah that's you and jing yuan. you two are KNOCKED OUT after like 11:30 (old folk) because you two are chemically bonded.

⎯ whenever the other is not around, you guys have trouble sleeping. you guys sleep so early together, but when you guys are apart? you will be getting no sleep.

⎯ loves sleeping early with you. loves to have you in his arms as fast as possible. loves mornings with you. loves how you look similar to being iridescent in the morning. loves everything about you tbh.

NOT one of my best hcs but thats ok

[froggibus]

Corruption - Kol Mikaelson

Genre: smut/nsfw

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x f! reader (reader uses f! pronouns & has a pussy)

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: when you meet an original vampire at the Grill, the last thing you expect is to come home with him

CW: corruption, coercion, dubcon, blood drinking, seduction, use of good girl, praise, degradation, dry humping, nipple play, dom! kol, sub! reader, semi-innocent reader, riding, size diff if you squint (he's a big boy ong), creampie, unprotected sex (pls be smart lol)

-

omg day one of kinktober, I’m so excited!! this is a bit of a curveball given I’ve never wrote about TVD on here but me and my bf were watching it and I’ve had absolute Kol brain rot lol.

also ow grand finals today!! ante up 💚

Kinktober Masterlist

The usual hustle and bustle of the Grill fills your ears as soon as you push past the door. You have your apron thrown over your shoulder, attempting to tie up your hair and run to the back at the same time. 

You manage to make your way through the maze of tables without bumping into anyone, thankfully. You wrap the straps of your apron around your waist and clock in just as the clock strikes 4:30. 

“Close one.” Matt Donovan nudges your shoulder teasingly. 

You shrug him off, slinging a cloth over your shoulder. “Hey, some of us actually need to study.”

The blond rolls his eyes and heads to the sink. You clip a pen onto your waist and drop a pad of paper into your pocket, smoothing over your hair before heading onto the floor. The Mystic Grill opens at noon, but since you and Matt are in school, more often than not you find yourselves working later in the afternoon.

And with working late comes the drunken idiots and vampires. 

You’re on your way to clean tables when a rowdy group of men burst through the doors. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes and wait for them to settle before coming over. But something about this group just seems…different. Your mind practically screams vampire.

Aside from the fact that they’re so hot you would have noticed them before, their accents make it clear that they’re not from around here. A mix of a classic English accent with a hint of something else behind it, a hint of something more ancient. Another red flag.

You come to their table almost as soon as they’re settled, not wanting to keep them waiting too long. “Hi, welcome to The Grill. My name is y/n and I’ll be serving you today. Anything I can get you guys started with?”

The one in the suit speaks first. “A gin and tonic, please.”

You nod and scribble it down on your notepad, turning to the blond one in the center. “And for you?”

“Martini, love.”

On any other day, the pet name would make you roll your eyes, but you find yourself fighting the urge. There’s something electric in the air, something dangerous, and you don’t want to aggravate them.

The younger one on the end smirks at you, dark eyes raking over your figure. He’s by far the tallest and broadest of the group, muscled shoulders hidden underneath his brown jacket. You shiver beneath his gaze. 

“A negroni, darling.” He says casually, but there’s a hint of patronizing beneath. 

Unlike the blond man, the name doesn’t make you roll your eyes. There’s no bitter taste in your mouth—just the chill of something new.

“Right away.”

You overhear them laughing as you practically sprint to the back, your heart racing in your chest. You can feel eyes on you but you don’t dare turn around. By the time you’re out of sight, their laughter has faded to hushed whispers around the table.

Kol can’t help but glance at the swinging door that leads to the kitchen, waiting for his cute little waitress to emerge. The innocent air around you is intoxicating in itself, and he finds himself wondering how your blood would taste, and how pretty and wet you would look opened up in front of him.

He pushes the thoughts away once he feels his pants tightening.

You come back a few minutes later, their drinks piled on the tray in your hand. You place them on the table one at a time, starting with the man in the suit. He thanks you, and it’s clear he has the best manners of the three.

When you get to the last man, you have to lean in slightly to place the drink in front of him. As you get close, you can smell his cologne, like a combination of sandalwood and iron. The scent draws you in, and you have to force yourself away from him. 

Your body heats up and your heart pounds, voice shaking as you ask: “C-can I get you guys anything else?”

“No, love, I think we’re—”

He interrupts the blond one with a smirk, “hang on a minute, Niklaus. Maybe there’s something else I want from our pretty waitress.”

You swallow hard at the compliment. You don’t trust yourself to properly form words right now, so you simply nod at him and wait for him to speak.

“Hmm,” Kol picks up the menu and pretends to examine it. 

He knows he’s being cruel, but he can’t help it. He loves the sound of your racing heart, of the blood rushing through your veins. God, he’s so tempted to compel you to come and sit on his knee and offer him a drink. But compulsion is just too easy, and where’s the fun in that?

He looks up at you through his lashes. “What would you recommend, love?”

“Um,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “I-I’m not too sure, what are you in the mood f-for?” 

You curse yourself for stuttering so much, but you’ve never felt like this before. It’s like all your senses are in overdrive, your body turning into an inferno. Just him looking at you is enough to turn you into a weak kneed mess.

Dark eyes look you up and down, that fucking smirk coming through again. “Something…sweet.”

“I-I can go get you the dessert menu.”

You don’t even wait for an answer before you’re practically running to the kitchen and gulping down half of your water bottle. You can hear them laughing once more, laughing at you, probably.

“You’re so cruel, brother,” Elijah scolds him.

Kol just shrugs and sips his martini. 

“You can’t exactly blame him, can you? She smells delectable.”

He freezes up at that. He’d almost forgotten for a second that his brothers could smell you too, and that if it came down to it, he would be last in line for a taste. No, he shakes his head. That simply won’t do. You’re his. 

“Ah, don’t worry little brother,” Klaus nudges his shoulder. “She’s all yours.”

Their conversation is interrupted when you come back, tail between your legs, with the dessert menu. You practically toss it on the table in front of them, refusing to make eye contact.

Kol resists the urge to laugh at your bashfulness. Your shy demeanor only makes him want you more, the alcohol just barely sating his need to lay you across the bar and fuck you then and there.

“On second thought,” Kol says after examining the menu, “I think I’ll wait til later.”

You nod and take the menu from him, your hand brushing his larger one. The contact sends sparks through your nerves, goosebumps forming on your arm. You make a blissful second of eye contact with him before scurrying off. 

—

Hours pass, and your shift is coming to an end. You managed to avoid that group for the rest of the night—Matt insisting on taking your shift so you don’t have to deal with what he calls the “Original” vampires. 

Of course, just as you’ve walked out of the back with your hair loose and your apron stuffed away in your bag, a familiar voice calls to you.

“Leaving so soon darling?”

You stop dead in your tracks. You’ve always ignored customers as soon as you got off the clock, only focused on getting out of the door and back to your house. But that electric feeling in the pit of your stomach is so strong that it compels you to turn around and face him.

He’s so much taller than you, so much broader than you. He’s standing so close that you can smell him and that you have to look up to meet his eyes.

“Well, my shift’s over and I-I should really go study, so…”

“What a shame,” he offers you a dazzling smile, eyes practically ignited while looking at you. “I was hoping I could entice you into a drink.”

“A drink?” You swallow hard, “with you?”

“Of course, unless there’s someone else?”

Something about the darkness that falls over his face when he says that tells you to tread lightly. That dangerous electricity is back, and it's holding you in place. You know you should go home, you should study and go to sleep and never speak to him again. But you can’t.

“No! There’s, uh, there’s nobody else.”

He offers you his hand. “So, a drink then? My place?”

You reach hesitantly to grab it, knowing those sparks are going to consume your body like kindle the minute you do. The palm of your hand touches his and you know there’s no going back.

Twenty minutes later and you’re sitting on his couch, sipping a vodka cranberry. Kol sits next to you, just close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of you. Anytime he shifts or speaks, that sandalwood scent floods your nostrils and stirs something in the pit of your stomach. 

He gently sets a hand on your thigh, not missing how your blood pressure spikes. He inhales that sweet scent of your blood, now mixed with something else. Something that smells suspiciously like arousal.

“So, love,” he leans in closer, “how about a taste, hm?”

“A-a taste?” You can’t tell if he means a taste of your blood, or a taste of something else.

“Just a little, I promise it will be quick. It might even,” he lowers his voice, moving his lips closer to your soft neck, “feel good.”

His words have you clenching your legs, your pussy starting to ache from need. You’re sure he can smell it, with his super sense and all. His hot breath on the side of your neck already feels so good, you’re so tempted to let him drink from you. 

“O-okay.”

Kol almost moans at that alone. He lets his fangs pierce through his gums, dragging the sharp teeth across the most sensitive part of your neck. One of his big hands wraps around the base of your throat, holding you still.

The graze of his teeth against your skin has you softly whimpering, biting your lip to not make too much noise. Just the thought of him sinking his fangs into your skin and sucking the blood straight from your vein has you gushing, panties beyond ruined.

There’s a slight burn and then a sharp pain as his fangs sink into you. You whine and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stay still. You can feel the vibrations of him groaning at the taste, feel his fingers tapping against your throat. It’s almost overwhelming, the pain and pleasure combined.

“You’re being so good,” he mumbles into your skin, “such a good girl for me.”

You moan from his words. You are being a good girl, and god, it feels so good. He pulls away, keeping his hand on your neck. You shiver from the cold air on your warm skin, missing his touch.

He rubs his hand up and down your thigh. “That was very good, darling.” He gently squeezes your inner thigh, “do you want to keep being good for me?”

The offer is enticing, and despite having class tomorrow, you find yourself wanting to stay. Wanting to please him in any way he asks. 

“I-I have class tomorrow, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You start to get off the couch, but just as you make it to your feet, he’s pressing himself against your back.

His hand squeezes the base of your throat, the other one rubbing your pussy through your jeans. “But didn’t it feel so good? I know you want more, love, I can smell it.”

You swallow, biting your lip to keep from moaning. His hands on you feel so good in themselves, and you wonder how other parts of him would feel. 

“Just a few more minutes, hm? Then you can go home, snug as a bug.”

“I-I’m not sure…”

“But doesn’t it feel so good, being my good girl?” He digs his hand into your clit as if to prove his point. He knows he’s won you over when he feels you start to soak through your pants. 

You sigh weakly, “okay, just a few more minutes.”

He guides you back to the couch, leaning over top of you. Your blood outlines his lips, his breath tasting like copper and liquor. He leans in, smashing his lips against yours. 

One of his hands moves down to dig into your waist, fingers gripping you so hard you’ll bruise. He forces his tongue into your mouth, running it across the backside of your teeth. 

You melt into his touch, letting him do whatever he wants.

His other hand snakes under your shirt, going to massage your chest. His cold fingers meet your overheating skin, pinching your nipple between them. You whine into his mouth, only granting him easier access to you. 

“You’re being such a good girl,” he moves his lips down your neck, “such a good slut for me.”

“‘m not a slut,” you whine, your back arching into him against your will. 

He pushes his knee between your legs, grinding it into you. The contact is all too much, and you’re hardly aware of the noises you’re making. Hardly aware of your own actions. 

“Not a slut,” he says breathlessly. “But you’re fucking yourself against my leg.” 

“I-I’m…” you trail off as you realize he hasn’t been moving his leg this whole time—you’ve just been grinding against him. 

There’s a wet spot forming on his jeans from where you were rubbing yourself, and hot shame floods your body. 

“I-I think it’s been more than a few minutes,” you go to stand but he tugs you into his lap. 

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself? Enjoying being my little slut?”

You only get wetter with his words, and sitting on his lap like this, you can feel the imprint of his hard cock through his jeans. You can’t help but rock against him, desperate for friction, desperate for anything. Maybe being his slut isn’t such a bad thing…

He tugs your shirt over your head while you move, giving himself easier access to your chest. He sucks dark marks into your neck, fingers playing with your nipples while you grind your pussy into his bulge. 

“Such a good little girl.” He groans, gripping your hips so he can grind against you. 

You whine, trying to grind harder against him. You need more friction, you need more pressure. 

“Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I-I—” you’re cut off by him pinching your nipples hard. 

“Use your words.” He teases, biting into your neck.

You try to tell him you need more, but your words are failing you. All you can do is close your eyes and bite your lip and rock back and forth on his lap. 

“Do you want me to fuck you? Fuck you hard and cum inside you, hm? Is that what my slut wants?”

You nod furiously, “yes, please.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I-I want you to fuck me, please fuck me, Kol. I-I need you so bad.”

Kol throws you over his shoulder faster than you can register, carrying you up to his bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, tugging his shirt off before hovering over you.

He strokes your jaw with his thick fingers, “if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna prove how badly you want it.”

“P-prove it?”

He flips the two of you over so that he’s laying under you, his bulge grinding perfectly against your throbbing core. He bounces you up and down slightly, his hands gripping your hips. 

“Prove how badly you want it, fuck yourself on my cock and then if you’re a good girl, I’ll give you what you want.”

You look down at his hard cock straining through his jeans. You’ve had sex before, sure, but you’ve never been on top. You’re not even quite sure how to ride. 

You straddle his waist, tugging down your pants and panties. Your panties are absolutely soaked, ruined with your own slick. You gasp once the cold air hits your aching pussy. 

Kol helps you to take off his own pants, his thick cock hitting his stomach. The pink tip is practically dripping with precum, coating his hard base in his own juices. 

You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight. He’s so big, and you can practically taste the precum from here. 

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it then.”

You slowly stroke the shaft, your hand barely wrapping around his girth. “I just,” you sigh, avoiding eye contact, “I’ve never really—”

“Been on top?”

“Yeah,” you squeeze his cock. 

“Lucky me,” he smirks and grabs your hips, “don’t worry, love. I’ll guide you.”

You climb on top of him, lining up his cock with your dripping entrance. Just the feeling of his length hovering below you. You lean forward and slowly drive your hips back, Kol holding up your hips so you can push down onto him. 

You sink onto his cock. It stretches you out as you push farther down on him, his cock perfectly filling you up. You whine, pressing yourself against his chest and driving your hips all the way down. Kol groans, digging his fingertips into your sides. 

“Such a good whore,” he mumbles, letting you do all the work. 

You desperately fuck yourself up and down his length, trying to get him all the way. He’s so big inside of you, all you want is to stuff yourself full of him. Your pussy gushes with every thrust, your juices leaking out and coating his groin. 

“I-I need more,” you whine, pressing your face into his shoulder. 

“Hm? You need more?”

“I need to cum, I’m so close, please…”

Kol grips your hips and flips over so that he’s laying on top of you. He drives his hips forwards, slamming his cock all the way inside of you. He grabs your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle. 

He pistons into you, balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. “God, you’re so fucking tight. My little whore, spreading herself open for me.”

“I—Kol—”

He leans in to kiss on your neck, his teeth grazing where he’d bit you earlier. His tongue reaches out to lap up the dried blood, moans filling your ears. 

“Kol, I-I’m so close!”

“Be a good girl and cum around my cock, huh darling?”

The pet name has those shivers traveling up your spine again, the pleasure reaching a point where it’s overwhelming. You dig your nails into his back, desperately whining for him to fuck you harder. 

One more thrust and you’re coming undone, that knot in your stomach exploding. Your pussy gushes around him, that ache that’s been plaguing you all day finally fading. 

Kol props himself up, shoulders straining to keep himself steady as he drives his cock inside you. Every thrust is a challenge, as if he’s trying to completely lose himself in your pussy. He’s gasping and grunting, and as soon as you feel his cock twitching, you know he’s close. 

A few more sloppy thrusts and suddenly he’s cumming inside of you, hot streaks filling your pussy. He’s left gasping, lazily pumping inside of you. He flips you over so that you’re laying on his chest. 

“Did that feel good, darling?” He strokes your hair, keeping you close to him. 

“Mm, so good,” you mumble, eyes starting to close. 

“You did so good for me, love. I can’t wait to see what that pretty little mouth can do, too.”

You feel yourself heating up at his words, but for now, all you can focus on is his hot cum running out of your pussy and coating your thighs. Kol rubs your back, letting you rest. 

[zhvakinnn]

Hello! I apologize if your busy doing something else but could I request a Tyler Hernandez (or other characters if you would like) x reader? Wherein reader has heterochromia but hides by wearing contacts but one day they forget to wear them and Tyler Hernandez (and the other characters you chose) found out.

How would they react? Thank your time and have a great day/noon/night!

Im so sorryyy I've been busy with exam these few weeks(⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

Btw how was your weeks, good luck with some y'all's exams

Warnings:none?

Characters:Tyler x any gender reader ft. Aiden,Ben, Taylor, Ashlyn,logan

🌺as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me🌺

The gc was texting to meet up in the park to hangout and you were late they said they will be there at 6:30 but it's already 6:50

You were to busy watching a movie that you didn't notice your phone rang

You were scrambling around the house getting your things and fixing your looks that you forgot the contacts and ran off the house

You got there and saw them just sitting and messing up each others, you sigh of relief and walk towards them

Taylor was the first to notice you and ran up and hug you tightly, you let out a wheezing laugh and looked over to see Tyler looking at your direction staring at you

You laugh and ran up to him and hugged him this time Tyler puts a hand both of your cheeks to make you look straight to him

The other 4 was to busy to realize the situation, "what?, what are you looking at?" You giggled "what happened to your eyes, they're.. different?" Your eyes widen as you quickly hid it

You search your bag and remember you put it on the kitchen counter "shit.." tears started to prickle, you started to feel overwhelmed and noticed everyones attention was on you

"hey you okay?" Ben typed approaching you, you didn't notice Tyler was rubbing your back "im sorry if I said that, I was just curious"Tyler felt guilty and thought he went to far with his words

You 7 sat down and calm down for a moment, "sooo... What's happening?" Aiden smiled looking at your direction while you cover your other eye, you stayed quiet for moment, "I have this thing where my other eye is different color to my other one, I've been wearing contacts so it's the same color"

Tyler squeeze your free hand and smiled at you and said "there's no need to hide that, you know we won't judge you, like Ben we didn't judge that he can't talk" Ben nodded "and like Aiden we didn't judge him even though his kind of autistic" "im not-" "we won't judge you for who are were here for you" Taylor continued

"hey? Im still not-" "were always here for you (name) if somebody mess with your eyes Ashlyns gonna kick someone's ass" Logan said, everyone looked at him and laughed "im still not autistic!"

You laugh with them knowing that your safe with your friends

After a while you didn't cover your eye anymore just chilling in the swing with Tyler while everyone was chicken fighting

"im glad you guys became my friends" your smiled at him as he nodded "im glad you became my friend too.... Hey I wanna ask you something" you hum in question looking at him

"I know we've been friends for like a month but.."

"would you like to go out with me?"

Waaa it's short but hope you guys loved this

[thus-spoke-lo]

Dr. Feelgood // Portgas D. Ace x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kink: Roleplay

A/N: thanks to law's patient anon for the concept and story elements! CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used for reader]; doctor/patient roleplay with light medical exam; oral sex [m receiving]; vaginal fingering; unprotected vaginal intercourse WC: 2.1k // Fictober Masterlist

You sit expectantly on the edge of the bed, swinging your legs, waiting patiently for…something.

Ace had approached you earlier, a cheeky grin stretched across his lips, and said he had a special surprise in store for you—but you had to be in his quarters exactly at noon.

“And don’t be late, cutie,” he’d growled as he grabbed at your ass with a warm hand.

And so you sit, and you wait, time crawling slowly towards midday as you huff and try to ignore the pounding in your chest, wondering what in the hell kind of surprise Ace has in store for you. You hear shuffling outside, then a soft knock comes at the door—who would be stopping by Ace’s quarters right now?

“Uh, come in?” you mutter, suddenly glad you hadn’t tried to surprise Ace back by reclining on the bed nude like you’d briefly considered.

The door slowly opens and in walks Ace, and your eyebrows raise as you look him up and down: he’s shirtless, in cargo shorts and boots as he so often was, but over his bare torso he wears a doctor’s coat that seems just a little too big for him, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck and a clipboard held tightly in his hands. You smirk and wonder exactly how much shit Marco must have given him to hand all this over—there was no way he got away without at least a friendly interrogation that probably left his cheeks burning.

“Hello. I’m—um…” Ace trails off and nervously adjusts his hat, clearly unprepared for his introduction. He closes the door behind him, straightening his back a little and clearing his throat before continuing. “I’m...Dr. Feelgood.”

You blink a few times at him and grin, trying to keep yourself from asking him what in the world has possessed him. “Well, good afternoon, doctor.”

“I see you’re here for, uh”—he glances down at the clipboard and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he determines the most appropriate malady to give you—“you’re here for ‘pussy problems’?”

“Y-yeah.” You flatten your lips together to suppress the chortle that rumbles in your chest and nod slowly. “That’s exactly it, doctor.”

“I see.” He furrows his brow, placing a finger on his lips in thought while he saunters towards you. “Why don’t you tell me about your symptoms?”

It’s all so damned cheesy, and you’re on the verge of a laughing fit, but you have to admit—there is something sexy about seeing Ace so serious, the open front of the white coat framing the corrugated leanness of his abdominal muscles perfectly as he pretends to be deep in thought, trying to maintain the illusion of professionalism despite the fact you know he’d rather be on top of you already, pounding you into the mattress.

“Well, you see, doctor,” you murmur, fixing your mouth in a pout, “I have this ache that won’t go away.”

“Is that so?” Ace’s eyes trail over your body, watching your every movement. “And where might this ache be?”

“Well it’s, ah—it’s down here.” You uncross your bare legs and slowly spread them apart, your shorts riding up your thighs as you do. You slide your hand down your torso, until your fingertips reach the apex of your thighs; you softly press against the seam of your shorts, feeling the stiff fabric push against your clit. “Right here—this is where it aches the most, doctor.”

Ace inhales sharply and licks his lips as he watches you fondle yourself. “That sounds serious. Why don’t you go ahead and undress for me, and I’ll do a very thorough exam.”

You stand and start to pull your shirt over your head, glancing up at Ace who is leaned against the wall, gripping the clipboard in one hand while the other moves down to the front of his shorts.

“Are you just gonna watch me get undressed, doctor?” you tease as you unhook your bra.

“Well, I think I should see that hot bo—um, your body in motion.” A deep blush begins to spread across his tanned cheeks, and he grips himself through the fabric of his shorts, a low hiss leaving his lips. “You know, to check your bones and muscles.”

“Right, of course.” You wink and begin to slowly unbutton your shorts, making a show of sliding them down your hips nice and slow along with your panties and kicking them to the side. You sit back down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your palms, your thighs spread just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the wetness that coats your slit—you’d been thinking of nothing else but him for hours leading up to this, and you were frustratingly wet and needy by now.

“Alright, let’s get started.” Ace sets the clipboard down and slowly approaches you, grasping your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head to one side and then the other, up and then down. “Hm, everything looks fine here—just a pretty face is all I see.”

Next, he inserts the earpieces of the stethoscope in his ears and gently places the shining chest piece against your sternum, just between your breasts; you let out a sharp gasp as the cool metal hits your skin.

“Are you okay?” Ace quickly asks, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine, baby” you whisper, trying not to break the immersion, finding that you’re almost starting to get wrapped up in your role. “That’s just a little chilly.”

Ace nods and bites his lip as he slides the metal across your skin, watching your body respond to the cold while he listens to your heart race inside your chest. His pupils grow as your skin tightens, goosebumps spreading across your breasts. He groans and runs the pad of his finger over your pebbled nipple, watching the way you squirm under his touch.

“Very responsive,” he says in a husky whisper, breaking through his thin veneer of professionalism to place his lips on your other nipple, swirling his tongue around it, moaning against your skin while you writhe in your seat, pressing your thighs together to try to find relief for the burning ache in your core. Ace’s warm hand trails down your stomach, landing on your mound, his fingers lightly running through your pubic hair. “And this is where it hurts, right?”

“E-exactly,” you stutter, watching as he kneels down on the floor and sits back on his heels, needing him to touch you, to give you relief in the way only he knows how.

“I’m gonna touch you and you tell me right where it is, okay?”

“Sure thing, doctor.”

Ace can barely contain the desire building inside him, and he slides his thumb down, pressing it on your swollen clit, watching with fascination as you instinctively buck your hips to rut against his hand. “Right there, huh?”

“Yeah,” you softly moan, your eyes closing as he starts to make circles over your aching bundle of nerves. “That’s it, right there.”

“Mm, I see.” He exhales and continues his ministrations, moving his other hand up your leg, caressing the plushness of your thighs. “Well, let me see if I can give you a little temporary relief.”

He pushes one finger past your glistening pussy lips, sliding it inside you, then adding a second before slowly pumping them in and out, stroking your velvet walls while he teases your clit. It’s maddening how well he knows your body, how his heated hands know just how to move, how he crooks his fingers upwards to press against that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your body pulse with electricity. It’s not long before the tension in your belly snaps and you reach your peak, your cunt spasming around his unrelenting fingers as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Ace moves his hands from between your thighs and stands, licking your wetness off his fingers; you can easily see his arousal straining against his shorts, and you resist the urge to reach out and stroke him through the fabric. This was his little game, and you were but his eager patient, waiting for your next instructions.

“One last thing we need to do.” He slowly drops his shorts to the floor and steps out of them, stands before you in only the white coat and his boots, his hard cock twitching as he meets your gaze. “I need to take your temperature. Now stick out your tongue and say ‘ahh.’”

You do as you’re told, parting your lips and letting your tongue flop out of your mouth. He grips his throbbing cock by the base and guides it into your mouth, gently gliding his length along your tongue. He places one hand on the back of your head to hold you still and holds his cock in your mouth for a moment, letting you feel every throb, every pulse, on your tongue. It seems almost torturous for Ace to pull away from you, as he quickly mutters, “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” under his breath as he slides out of your mouth, taking a moment to run the reddened, leaking head along your lips before stepping back.

“Alright,” Ace manages to blurt through heavy breaths, “I think I have a diagnosis.”

“Oh?” You lick the precum off your lips, grinning up at him. “And what is it?”

“You seem to have a bad case of ‘Need Dick-tivitus.”

You mock-gasp. “Is it—is it terminal?”

“Luckily, no.” He lets the white coat slide off his broad shoulders, down his sinewy arms, until it drops to the floor. “There is a cure.”

“What could it be, doctor?”

Ace gives you a wide, toothy grin—the kind that would have your clothes off in an instant if you weren’t already undressed. “Sex with a hot guy in a hat.”

“I think it must be my lucky day then, isn’t it?”

“You’re damn right.” He strokes his length and lets out a shuddering sigh, his eyes trailing over every inch of your bare body. “Now why don’t you bend over for me so I can administer your treatment?”

You eagerly stand and turn around, placing your hands on the mattress and leaning over until your ass is in the air and your legs are spread apart, inviting him to ruin you. Ace aligns his hips with yours and swipes the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your copious slick and coating his length with it. He positions the tip at your drenched entrance, teasing you with a few shallow thrusts that barely penetrate you before sliding into your warmth fully, a feeling that elicits a keen from you and a quiet gasp of his name.

His hands grip your hips tightly, burning-hot fingertips pressing into your soft skin, pulling you against him with each thrust, using your soft, wet warmth to stroke himself. He fucks you with a deep-seated need, his thick cock stretching you deliciously with every movement, delving deeper into you with every rhythmic push. Every sigh, every moan, every little whine and whimper that he pulls from you only make him throb harder, move his hips against you faster, fuck into you with even hotter abandon as he begins to reach the edge of his own pleasure.

“That’s it baby,” he groans as his thrusts start to become erratic, his breathing heavy, his voice low and thick with lust. “Take your medicine for me.”

With a stutter of his hips and a long moan of your name, he spills himself inside you, filling you until it’s leaking out of you with his every last desperate thrust, warm rivulets dripping down the insides of your thighs. Ace leans forward and places his palms on either side of you, resting his weight on your back until you start to sink down into the mattress.

“So, am I cured now, doctor?” you murmur into the bed, relishing the sensation of his scorching skin on yours, feeling his heart pounding against you as he nuzzles your neck, his hat tumbling onto the bed beside you.

"Afraid not.” He kisses down your back, his lips burning against your damp skin. “I’m going to need to see you for regular treatments.”

“Mm, if you insist.” It doesn’t even matter that your words are slurred, too fucked-out by your dutiful doctor to try to bother with speaking clearly.

“I do. I think next time though, we should administer your medicine orally.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he grinds against you, fucking his cum back into you with a few last shallow thrusts. “Doctor’s orders.”

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! OC/Reader

Little Silas Vanserra had Eris vowing to never have anymore children.

He thanked the Mother that his daughter was a little angel- still at the age where she wanted to be carried everywhere, snuggled peacefully in an adult’s arms.

Her pale hair and violet ringed autumnal eyes reminding him so much of the woman he loved.

Her older brother was the complete opposite.

He wondered if this was his punishment, a cruel joke played upon him by the Gods for having such a carefree life since his father died and reminding him that he needed to keep his faltered guard up.

And that’s how he felt in the early hours of the morning, with little hands patting at his face and excited little feet hopping on the oak floors of his bedroom.

Tired.

He cracked one amber eye open- unceremoniously meeting a matching golden flecked iris, one full of wonder and guiltlessness, as he supposed his own once were.

He closed it as quickly as it had opened, letting a wry smirk take over his ostensibly lazed features.

“Daddyyyy I know you’re awake-“ the little boy began incredulously before shrieking in glee as Eris swooped him onto his chest with ease, tickling his son mercilessly as his Mate softly slept beside him.

After the boy had relented, his rounded cheek flushed with the childish mirth of giggles, Eris couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the boy’s wild red locks.

As expected the boy’s mother was still soundly asleep, Eris had always been a light sleeper, in fact having his Mate beside him and children down the hall only worsened the fact, even though his father was no longer a threat- to him or his loved ones, simply having them in such a place always had him on high alert.

Even though he had done his very best to rid the Autumn Court of longtime Advisors, the types of men that would love nothing more than to see the Night Court Princess with a Fae bane arrow through her much too large heart, he knew there was no good in him-undeserved of him in ever feeling content.

It had the opposite effect on his wife, who admittedly had never slept better than when she was in the comforting arms of her husband- the natural warmth emanating from him lulling her into such ecstasy she wished she never had to be cruelly ripped away from by the chill of the Autumn morning.

She had never really slept well in the Night Court, the pain of living there without her mother sister always too much to bear.

Eris was her new home.

Since having children- her body still not quite having recovered from their second and Eris insisting she get as much rest at she could, even the joyous squeals of her firstborn still wouldn’t- couldn’t make her budge.

“Daddy Uncle Lulu said you p-pwomised-“

“Promised,”

“Promised to show me m-my fire againnn!”

The boy was practically trembling with excitement, his father’s hands coming to steady him as his little body wriggled with joy, perched on his father’s raised knees who raised a slim digit to his smaller lips, reminding him to remain quiet as possible.

Not that it would have made a difference to the blissfully knocked out woman beside them.

“Did he now?” Eris withered, the thought of his brother- knowing just how much he treasured the few late mornings a High Lord might have, had told his son- who’s adorable little face noone could deny, that those small, valuable hours were reserved for “magic time”.

It took only a brief moment, a fleeting fall of Silas’ dimpled grin- his mother’s grin, to have the High Lord swinging his legs from the refuge of his silken sheets, his boy held firmly in his strong hands.

“Then I think it is best we get dressed appropriately, what do you say Little Flame?”

The boy simply cheered in response and Eris couldn’t help the grin on his own face at the feel of chubby hands around his neck in a makeshift embrace, carrying him down the hall as his son rattled on in half nonsensical toddler speak about how he was going to ‘beat his Uncle Lulu in a duel’.

~

The Maids cooed as the little Prince raced down the hall in his teeny tiny Autumnal uniform- gifted to him by his Aunty Elain who thought they were the cutest thing ever.

The boy stopped when he reached the top of the grand staircase, skidding to a halt with a nervous expression on his little face.

The same staircase his Mummy always carried him down, the same staircase he had been told to scoot down on his bottom in case he tripped, the same staircase she had been slowly helping him descend himself (holding his hand tightly and giving up halfway as he took nearly a whole minute per ten steps)

Eris watched him amusedly- a miserable jutted lip and a coy flush on his baby cheeks.

“Umm Daddy, M-Mummy said I am not s’pose to go down m-myself in case of ouchies…”

That was not what she had said.

“I thought you were a big boy now, hmm?” Eris teased as his son pouted, just as his mother would have.

“I-I am…” Silas’ point was refuted with the small grabby motions his little arms made to his father who looked down at him with a smirk.

“Do big boys get carried down the stairs?”

“Ummm…Yes?” The boy widened his glimmering autumnal eyes, “pleasies?”

And so with a roll of his eyes, all in good humour, Eris fastened his excitable son against his chest as they began to exit the grand estate, heading into the vast, luscious gardens where they would begin their training.

~

Lucien could only laugh when found his brother- sincere and unbridled joy dancing in his otherwise piercing gaze, watching his son chase after the little flames he made for him.

“Uncle Lulu!” The boy squealed, barrelling into the male who swung him atop his shoulders with ease.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Eris warned, “he has quickly figured out how to control his magic, you might end up with that treasured hair of your singed at the root.”

Silas nodded furiously, his little feet hitting the floor as he flexed his small palm as proof, and to his pure wonder, delicate embers- faint as they were, twinkled at his will.

“Look Daddy! I did it! I did it!” Eris couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his son danced with not only with the little flicker he had mustered with his father’s help, but larger wistful wisps that flowed around him with delicate care.

Eris couldn’t help but feel his heart constrict, wishing nothing more than to give his children the childhood he had wanted- deserved.

He took one look at his son and wondered how anyone could ever hurt him, let alone do it himself.

He wondered what he had done to make his own father hate him so, vowing to never once make his own offspring feel even a fraction of the way he had.

For what seemed like hours Lucien and Eris entertained the little boy, sometimes engaging in a silent battle between one another who could impress the young heir the most.

Lucien eventually was called away and Eris wondered if his years were finally catching up to him, small burn marks littering his clothes from his son’s inexperienced hands and an ache in his legs from chasing after him.

After Silas’ giggles had dissipated along with his energy, Eris suggested they head back, the boy agreed sleepily, the thrum of magic still alive in his little body as Eris made a mental note to keep an eye on his budding powers.

“T-Thank you for giving me my fire,” Silas mumbled, stumbling over to his father “love you Daddy…”And as a pair of all too familiar amber eyes met the High Lord’s blurring own, he bent down and received his greatest gift in his trembling arms.

A reminder he would never be the man who had damned him, a reminder that he was a good man- a good man that was loved.