#the aching in my chest is indescribable

[charonte-simi]

oops let myself daydream too long about having a friend/partner that's not only available but that I feel safe and comfortable being physically affectionate with and it made me so unbearably full of want that I nearly blacked out

[deonideatta]

Oh don't mind me im just thinking about the fact that the flowery and warm shots of anya and yor in the new spy x family opening are likely from loid's pov and having a totally normal and controlled reaction to that :)

[saturnsfather]

oh so its going to be one of those days is it. well .

[screampied]

“. . do you . . know what happens after death, sweetheart?”

the words that slipped out of nanami’s lips struck you right in the very depths of your heart.

it stung—a sharp prod that made the very crevices of your mouth twitch. his hands, his once warm and loving hands started to grow abnormally cold. frigid to where you even started to adapt to his chilled temperature.

“no why….” you started, feeling your throat tighten. “why are you asking me that, kento?” you sniffle, tightly interlocking your fingers with his.

he stares at you with a warm smile spreading across his lips.

regardless of his current position, peacefully resting his back against the ground—his inevitable fate had finally caught up to him.

nanami’s breathing patterns changed significantly. everything was so loud, all he could make out through his peripherals was splotches of blur and your pretty worried face. “. . because,” he continues, and his speech was so slow. you could tell he was trying to get every word out, every syllable, every vowel. just for you and only you. “i’m about to find out, my love . .”

your irises focused on him. nothing else, no one else—just him.

you’ve never seen him like this. so pale, so weak, so . . . scared.

his pure emotion, it showed in his eyes. his perfect brown eyes that you never failed to get lost in. for the first time in what was probably forever, nanami felt…scared. he tried his best to conceal it in front of you though. but even his best wasn’t enough, because you probably knew him better than you knew yourself.

“don’t say things like that, kento,” you mutter, already feeling that annoying plump knot rise up in your throat. your breath was shaky, tremble after tremble. “you’re fine. you can get up. we can get up.”

he knew when you said we, you implied that you’d both be walking away together — hand in hand, like in those stupid cheesy movies you’d watch with him every sunday after he gets off work. but alas, reality was quite harsh to face. an even more incredible tough pill to swallow. nanami knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

it was irksome, you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent a single tear to roll down your cheek.

nanami’s eyelids were hanging on by a thread, just barely open. he was trying—trying so hard to hang on, a small pout curls against his lips before he huffs out a single breath.

“ah . . forgive me, you’re right,” he says, his thumb swiftly stroking the front of your hand. a single tear escapes past your lower damp eyelid. even his voice sounded different. a voice you grew to love, so sweet and protective. it now sounded incredibly tired. you could hear a slight wheeze between breaths of his. “hey, don’t cry. don’t do that, look at me.”

his voice was so soft, you sniffled—despising the irritating tears that started to run down both sides of your temples. if it was anything nanami couldn’t stand, it was that he couldn’t stand to see the love of his life shed such sweet pitiful tears for him.

you looked at him, watching his eyelids struggle to stay open for you. everything ached, his body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. it was an indescribable feeling from when he got struck, laying against the slick cold floor of the shibuya train station.

“. . d-don’t leave me,” was all you managed to say, your lips was trembling, your heart pounded and you didn’t wanna say goodbye just yet. “kento, i need you.”

“hm? what are you mumblin’ about, sweetheart? ‘m right here.” his voice, it sounded happier.

you furrowed your eyebrows, now finding yourself buried into nanami’s bare chest, damp chin pressing against his pecs and all.

you were here safe and sound, snuggled up all against him, as you should be. it took you a long while to calm down, he’s staring at you with a soft loving gaze—a brief look of concern before you mumble out a, “..kento? are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be, baby?” nanami hums, a soft thumb stroking your back. with a relaxed breath, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss near the very tip of your forehead. his touch was forevermore soothing, a touch you never wanted to forget.

you let off a jittery sigh of relief, finally coming to the conclusion that it was another one of your horrid nightmares. you had nothing to worry about.

he was fine.

you were fine,

everything was fine.

. . is what you kept telling yourself.

nanami never told you those words, he didn’t kiss the tip of your forehead or stroke your back lovingly whilst staring into your eyes. the only true unbearable truth was that nanami was gone.

he was gone, and his last words weren’t even “i love you,” or “i’m sorry.” on his fatal dying breaths, nanami’s last words to you while squeezing your hand, sliding a ring into your palm, he rasps out a breathy, “will . . you marry me?”

but before you could tell him yes, he was already gone.

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (6)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst, brief mention of an abortion

a/n: guess what everyone here’s another chapter ahhh!!! Love you 🫶

Read part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (part five bonus) |

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Your breath left you, lungs emptying of every comfort until they felt tight and constrained. You might have made a sound—might have gaped as Azriel’s eyes darted across every square inch of your face to gauge a reaction. 

Mate. 

Had he said—

“What?” you finally choked out. 

Azriel shook his head with a pained furrow of his brow. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” His hands steadied as they cradled your cheeks—stability in a time of utter confusion. “But I had to, y/n. You… I needed you to understand why I care so much. Why I want you to let me care. Why you…” 

His words trailed off. 

Something compelled you to reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrists. You stared into his eyes with nothing to offer him but the uncertainty and poorly disguised hope edging considerably closer to the surface. 

“Why I what, Azriel?” 

Azriel licked his lips before he spoke, mouth dry at the prospect of the conversation. “Why you can tell me. Everything. You can trust me with everything there is to know about you and Melanie. I wouldn’t—I would protect the both of you. Over anything.” 

You felt a piece of you deflate. Azriel’s fingers slightly spasmed against your skin as your shoulders slumped. 

“You can’t promise me that, Azriel,” you sullenly replied. “You work for the High Lord. You can’t promise me you would keep things from him for my benefit. I can’t trust that—” 

“Y/n, you are my mate,” Azriel emphasized, eyes wide and pleading. “I know you can’t feel it yet within you but it has been carved into my chest from the moment we locked eyes. The way the bond pulls each time I see you—the way it screams at me to keep you safe. I can’t…” 

His words broke off as he spoke them—cracked and fractured and desperate. 

Azriel cleared his throat and started over. 

“There are two things you should know. First, the High Lord and Lady—Rhysand and Feyre—they would never do anything to put you in danger.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Azriel gently spoke over the rebuttal. “They would never. They do not even know you but you are my mate. As an extension, you are their family. Whatever it is you are running from, they would go to lengths to run with you.” 

“You can’t promise—” 

“I can. And I am. Because the second thing you should know is that I have waited for my mate for centuries. I have dreamed of you and wanted you and I don’t know if that scares you but I hope it can be some consolation.” 

The kitchen lulled into a silence punctuated by your heaving breaths, the unsteady sound countering Azriel’s flickering wings as he stood before you. You had no words for him, nothing to rectify the worried way he captured your gaze with his own. 

Your instinct fought against everything he said. 

To put all of your trust into Azriel—all of it. To make him an integral part of Melanie’s life, of yours. 

Could you? Was being his mate enough? You didn’t feel the pull yet, the indescribable ache that caused the desperation on Azriel’s face. 

“—and,” Azriel’s voice was low but startling as his eyes shifted to land on the wall behind your head. “It’s not just the bond. It’s you. I care about you, y/n. I care about Mel. I can’t go back to acting so casual about that. I want to be all in with two of you. My life has… it’s changed. It’s different now, because of you.” 

He found your eyes again.

Something shifted in your chest, but it didn’t snap. 

You wanted him to be all in, but something still needed to be aligned. 

You had heard stories about mates in the past—about mates that had children before the bond had made itself known. The stories did not end well and they certainly did not match the pleading way Azriel held you or the hopeful pool of hazel that his eyes had dipped into. 

“What about Melanie?” you whispered, squeezing his wrist with your fingers because although he had included her in all of his pinings, you needed to hear him say it. 

Azriel adjusted his stance and blinked at you as if you were speaking another language. “What about Melanie, angel?” 

His soft-spoken endearment was like a punch to the gut. “W-Would you love her the same? Even though she isn’t yours? I’ve heard what can happen with—” 

“I don’t care about that—I’ve never cared. I can’t imagine looking at her and not loving her, y/n. She is so much of you.” 

A loaded breath left you as you leaned forward and rested your forehead on Azriel’s collar. You were still sick, still exhausted, and this overwhelming display of affection and devotion was filling you more than you thought you could handle. You released your hold on his wrists to bunch your fists into the front of his shirt. Azriel acted instantly, one hand coming to the back of your head while the other rested along your back. 

“I want to trust you,” you promised. “I do. It just might take time. I can’t—I don’t think I can tell you yet. I don’t know why, I just—” 

“I know, y/n. You don’t have to tell me. Just… just let me in. Let me be here.” 

~~

The rest of the day moved slowly. 

Azriel stayed. 

When Melanie woke up from her nap, a walk was introduced, Azriel proclaiming that the group had spent entirely too much time inside and fresh air was needed to fight the remaining sickness. That suggestion was met with a raised brow from Melanie who argued that sleep was supposed to be what made us better, Mr. Azriel. Why do you keep changing it?

You had watched the interaction with new eyes; the way she squinted up at him with a skeptical gaze and the way he stared down at her with a smile so wide it looked as if it hurt. Did he smile that broadly all the time? You hardly saw him in any public context, so it was difficult to know. 

You doubted he did. 

He smiled at you the same way when you teased him for Melanie’s benefit. 

The walk was soothing and beautiful and Azriel had wrapped two scarves around Melanie’s neck before he let her get out the door. She had huffed and pointed at his own neck, frustrated that he wasn’t wearing a scarf, but his shadows answered for him as they whisked around Melanie’s eyes and turned her around. 

As she giggled, Azriel shrugged a jacket over your shoulders. 

“It’s not that cold, you know,” you commented later as footsteps echoed along cobblestone. “I don’t know if she needed both scarves.” 

“Can’t be too careful. Wouldn’t want her to get more sick.” 

“We aren’t that kind of sick, Az.” 

“I know.” He tore his gaze from Melanie and directed it towards you. “But I can’t do anything about Autumn fever. I can, however, make sure the two of you don’t catch a cold.” 

You pressed your lips inwards and breathed through the fluttering in your chest as he looked upon you. His gaze was unabashedly admiring and you couldn’t remember if he’d looked at you like that before he’d told you you were mates, or if he had been holding himself back before. 

“I am from the Autumn Court,” you thought to say, if only to quell some of the strange feeling in your chest. “Although, you already knew that. Your healer kind of gave it away.” 

“You don’t have to—” 

“I want to,” you interrupted. You looked out towards Melanie as you skirted along the Sidra, your daughter kneeling by the shore to look in at the fish. “Maybe not all of it at once. But for now, I’m from the Autumn Court. I came to Velaris when I found out I was pregnant.” 

You shoved your hands into the pocket of the jacket Azriel had placed on your shoulders. You realized it wasn’t yours when your knuckles swam in the space. And the scent of night-kissed air delicately wafted up.

Azriel said nothing as you collected your thoughts. He simply watched Melanie giggle and dip her fingers in the water. 

“Um, I came under duress, obviously. The circumstances of my pregnancy weren’t exactly optimal and there were several people that would have been… more than upset that I was pregnant.” 

“What does that mean—upset?” 

“Several things. They could have taken Melanie from me, made me end the pregnancy when I didn’t want to, sent me into hiding for shame. I didn’t stick around to find out which horror-fueled thought would come to fruition.” 

“Is that who you’re running from?” 

You tilted your head to the side as a light breeze swept past your skin. Azriel was already looking at you with an intensity that felt out of place compared to the joyful laughs that flowed from the child by the water. But that was good, you reminded yourself, you were keeping her away from all of these harsh realities for as long as possible. 

“Yes.”

“Can I ask—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. Your tone wasn’t mean or harsh; it was exhausted. “You can't ask who or why—not yet. I haven’t actually said any of those names aloud since I left. That part might… take me a while.” 

“That’s okay,” Azriel softly reassured. He took a half step towards you, hesitated, but then fought against that and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his chest. “I just need to know what I’m up against. If you think they know where you are or if they’re still looking for you.” 

Melanie had begun throwing rocks into the Sidra, the sound of the stones plopping into the water mingling with silence and birds chirping. 

“I don’t think they know where I am,” you mumbled into his chest. It was so easy to stay there. “But I think they’re still looking. I don’t think they’ll stop.” 

You felt Azriel’s lips press against the crown of your head. His chin found a home there as you both shifted to watch Melanie. 

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine.” 

“Is it? You didn’t exactly sign up for this.” 

“I signed up for you. Whatever that entails.” 

A calm silence washed over the scene by the Sidra. Azriel brought his other arm around to hold you closer to his chest and you let him, seamlessly sinking into his hold. Melanie was none the wiser to the conversations behind her as she began dropping sticks and leaves into the water. 

Azriel kissed your hair once more. 

“It could be safer—“ Azriel began, words laced with reproach. “—if some of the Inner Circle were involved.” 

You wrenched yourself back as quickly as the words left his mouth. “No,” you shook your head vigorously. It made an ache bloom at the base of your neck. “No, no court involvement. You can’t tell them anything. You can’t, Azriel. I know you said it was safe but you don’t understand. This can’t have anything to do with High Lords or court politics or, or—” 

“Okay, okay—hey, I’m sorry. Come here.” 

The panic had taken hold of your bearings and inched close to your heart. You reached up to place a hand against the pressure there as Azriel tugged you back against his body and glanced toward Melanie to ensure she hadn’t picked up on your stress. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he comforted, running his hand down your hair. “Nothing with the court, okay? I won’t tell any of them.” 

“Do you promise?” you all but whimpered. A tinge of embarrassment seeped under your skin at your actualized panic, but the fear took precedence and Azriel showed no repugnance at your reaction. 

For a brief, fleeting moment, you considered that a promise didn’t really mean anything at all—not before. 

But, from Azriel, it felt like something. 

“I promise.” 

A small voice then sounded, facilitating the natural end to the sharing you had offered. “All of the fishies are gone.” 

Azriel didn’t even attempt to move you away from his chest as he spoke, his words creating vibrations along your body. “That’s because you keep throwing things at them, Mel.” 

“I wasn’t throwing things at them. I was trying to offer those things to them.” 

You turned to speak to your daughter, Azriel’s arms unmoving around you. “Why were you offering things to the fish?” 

“Just in case they’re water gods. Ms. Fern tolds us about them in school. If you make them offerings then they protect you.” 

Your laugh was echoed by Azriel. The two of you shared a smile before you slowly unraveled yourself from him and beckoned your daughter forward. “Well, I’m sure they were very grateful for your offering. It was probably just their bedtime. Just like it’s almost yours.” 

Melanie made a face but didn’t argue, instead taking steps past you to stand at Azriel’s feet. “Mr. Azriel, is it my turn to cuddle? I don’t want to walk all the way home.” 

You watched Azriel’s mouth twist into a small smile that was obviously in place of a much larger one. He looked over Melanie’s head to send you a wordless question that you were quick to nod in response to. 

As if you would tell him no. 

Azriel reached down to haul your daughter up, settling her against his hip as if he’d done so a hundred times. Melanie rested her head on his chest almost as quickly as he’d grabbed for her, fiddling with a stick she still held in her grasp. You made to walk alongside them and calm your pattering heart, but certain people had other plans. 

“You too, mommy,” Melanie called, peaking the side of her face out from Azriel’s chest. 

“Me too?” 

“Uh huh. You come too. Mr. Azriel has two arms. And I can hold your hand.”

You sent a knowing glance up to Azriel, but he forwent the snickering and already had his arm open by the time you looked. “In,” he prompted with raised brows. “And you have a hand to hold.”  

[daydreamsinthemoonlight]

the unfortunate part about listening to legitimately good music when you're a depressed child is that you will no longer be able to listen to said music as an adult without being overcome with a deep melancholy

[pierregazly]

shaking for you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, pussy-drunk oscar, oral (fem!receiving), p in v - no protection, minor overstimulation, oscar is a dirty talker, mention of cockwarming [914 words]

request: can you please do do 28 from the 🌶️ prompt list with oscar 😽 [28. “I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.”]

The grip you had on his hair was unrelenting, his tongue moving in circles as you pushed your core closer to his face, practically begging him for more, begging for him to make you cum for a third time that night.

He had practically bent you over the second he was through the door, having not seen you in weeks, he was insatiable, eager to see you, eager to get the chance to be inside you, to have his tongue pressed to your clit. To have you moaning his name. Shaking for him.

Your clothes lay in tatters on the floor, bruises forming on your hips, your breasts, up the side of your neck. 

Oscar’s skin wasn’t much different. Scratch marks littered his arms, his back, love bites were forming all over his chest and neck. His lips bruised and puffy, practically aching to be kissed again. 

“You gonna be good and cum f’me, baby? Gonna gush all over my lips? Been so good for me all night, know you can give me one more, c’mon,” he taunted you, a finger circling your entrance before pushing inside.

He had stretched you out nicely on his cock earlier in the evening, the finger he had pushed inside of you barely satisfying the ache that was yearning for more, desperate to feel him inside of you again. Mixed with his tongue, though? It was indescribable, it was everything you were craving and more.

And he knew that. Knew what he could do to make you scream for him, to make you soak his face in your juices.

Which was exactly what he was doing. Pushing a second finger inside you alongside his first, his lips and tongue slurping, sucking, and licking at your clit; the whimpers were falling from your lips, your hips unable to keep still as you continuously pushed up into his face.

If there was one thing Oscar was sure of; it was that he could die happy if he got to eat you out for the rest of his life. The sounds you made, the way you gripped his hair, the way you begged him, the way you directed him on what you like, the taste of you… it was everything and more to him.

He loved everything about you, but he especially loved this. Was honoured that you trusted him enough to do this, to make you feel good day-in and day-out.

He could tell you were getting closer as he began lazily flicking his tongue, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your core muscles began clenching, the grip on his hair tightening as he groaned into your cunt, the slick of your pussy increasing as the sounds you were making grew louder.

Oscar helped you ride through your orgasm, your thighs tightening around his head as your entire body shook. It felt like you were flying, your third orgasm of the night rushing through your body as moans fell from your lips.

It didn’t take long for the Australian to crawl up your body, his hardened member easily slipping inside your wet core; soft groans falling from both of your lips. He had already cum once tonight, and knew he likely wouldn’t again; but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to feel your tight, wet heat wrapped around him again.

Lazily looking up at him, a soft smile was directed down to you before he was pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself on him, on his tongue as he pressed it against yours. You couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips at the realization. Something about it had you bucking up into him, into his cock that was slowly thrusting in and out of you.

“So pretty f’me, baby. So pretty all fucked out, look at you. God. Bet you’d let m’fuck you all night, wouldn’t you? You’d let me sleep with my cock inside you, y’just wanna be close to me all the time, hm? Gonna warm my cock?”

Pussy-drunk Oscar Piastri was a different type of aroused. He talked like a mad-man, like all he could talk about, all he could think about, was you.

“Mhm, course’ Osc. Would let you fill me up all night long, keep your cock inside me til’ we woke up. Let you fuck me in the morning, too,” you groaned, his legs stuttering at your words.

Bottoming out, Oscar grunted as he watched your lips open in a long-drawn out moan. His own moan followed, as he turned the two of you onto your side, maneuvering both bodies so his member remained sheathed inside you.

“God, baby. I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking,” he said.

Practically rolling your eyes, almost four orgasms later, what did he expect? It was hard to even attempt to keep your legs still. 

You slapped at the hand that began slithering towards your clit again. Your hips bucked as he began to rub a gentle circle on the enflamed nub, the sensitivity overtaking you as you shook your head at him.

“N’more, please. I can’t take it.”

Shushing you, Oscar pressed a kiss to the skin behind your ear.

“One more, baby. Y’can do it, promised me you’d be a good girl. One more, then w’can go to bed, hm?”

Mewling at his words, you knew you could give him one more. Could be a good girl for him, like you always were.

i started this?? and then couldn't stop?? the words were being typed before i even had the chance to comprehend them which is why this is so nasty... pls enjoy 🫶🏻

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it. 

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection. 

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first. 

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected. 

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place. 

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t. 

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness. 

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more. 

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you. 

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion. 

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it. 

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair. 

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat. 

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears. 

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down. 

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?” 

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you. 

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after. 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally. 

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes. 

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car. 

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you. 

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order. 

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile. 

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink. 

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed. 

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease. 

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys. 

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again. 

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces. 

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts. 

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you. 

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…” 

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes. 

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly. 

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.” 

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor. 

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath. 

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile. 

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes. 

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three. 

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs. 

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though  one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly. 

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck. 

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge. 

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously. 

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily. 

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later. 

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders. 

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause. 

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there. 

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender. 

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there. 

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house. 

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter. 

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda. 

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again. 

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace. 

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

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

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @wandasdove @unity-rae @traveler-at-heart @wandasreallover

[ghostandsoap]

Sitting Pretty

Captain John Price x Fem! Reader Tags: Smut. Cockwarming. Price is being mean. Word Count: 1.0k "You're doing just fine, my love."

"John, please." Your lip had the slightest quiver to it when you spoke.

A cheeky, proud grin spread on the man's face, his eyes closed both from exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Don't whine, princess. You're alright." John's thumbs rubbed in sweet, soft circles over your waist that was in his hands.

You huffed at his response, which earned a small laugh from him.

The mattress of his bed felt indescribably amazing to his tired bones and muscles. John had expressed to you that he was worn out, which wasn't surprising given the stress of the mission that he had just returned home from earlier in the day.

It was difficult for John to wind down and take a load off after such a hard job. The pressure and trauma of his job wasn't something that he could just turn off whenever he wanted to.

He needed to ease himself into feeling relaxed...comfortable and safe even. When he suggested this as his means of un-stressing himself before bed, you were all over it.

But it was proving to be a bit harder than you originally bargained for.

His cock was buried deep inside you. His tip was pressing against a bundle of nerves far within you, which was intoxicating yet frustrating when he was restraining you from moving at all.

However, that didn't stop you from trying.

His eyes opened briefly at the feeling of you trying to rise and sink back down onto him, his eyes rolling into his head before his eyelids closed again.

You were soaked, the insides of your thighs and John's lap and lower stomach proved that. His cock was sopping from where it rested inside of you, twitching every once in awhile from the stimulation.

The sight of you falling to pieces and desperate for him was almost enough for him to give in from this little charade of his. Seeing you breathing heavy and practically shaking with anticipation was almost enough to make him feel bad.

Almost.

"Mmh. Quit moving so much," His hands gripped your hips tighter to keep you seated on his lap. "Sit still."

"John, please," You begged again. "I want you to fuck me."

Your right hand felt heavy on your thigh where it rested and laid flat. Your left hand was gripping the hem of John's t-shirt that you were dressed in, just barely covering your naked lower half.

"I thought you liked feeling me like this?" He teased.

His tone was in a mocking way. He wanted you to beg for it.

"I do, I promise, but..." You whimpered when he shifted his hips underneath you, causing your voice to crack when you spoke next. "I don't know what you want me to do."

A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest. Not an ounce of sympathy in his voice or on his expression.

"I just want you to keep looking pretty while sitting on my cock," He purred. "You're doing just fine, my love."

You never ached for him this bad before. When he was gone and off saving the world, there were certainly times where you were beside yourself with physically craving him and emotionally pining for him.

But this was so much worse because he was actually here and could take care of you.

John would've loved nothing more than to hold you steady and upright while you bounced on his cock and made a mess of yourself, but he was getting too much enjoyment out of making you squirm.

"Look at you..." He hummed, opening his eyes just long enough to get a good look at you. "So so beautiful sitting up on my lap."

He didn't get a reply from you, and when he felt all of your muscles relax and your body go limp, his eyes snapped open. He noticed you weren't fighting it anymore, eyes blurred with tears and filled with hurt.

"Oh, oh darling..." He sighed sympathetically, his hands moving to rest on the tops of your thighs. "You need my cock that bad?"

You nodded desperately, a pitiful sniff sounding from your chest.

John knew he had pushed you too far. No amount of fun in the bedroom was worth making you genuinely distressed and upset. He couldn't stand to see you cry, and that was the number one way to make his tough guy appearance dissolve.

John maneuvered to sit up against the headboard, his cock hitting you at an even better angle.

"Hey, hey..." He cooed, bringing his lips to your forehead to press a kiss there. "I'm sorry. Please don't cry, my love."

He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.

"How's that feel?" He said through a groan. "That feel good?"

His breathing was getting quicker, and his movements to fuck into you were getting involuntary. He chuckled when you nodded, wiping at the last of your tears.

"Alright, baby. I'm gonna let you have your way with me," He pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth when you began to rock back and forth against his cock. "Fuck."

His grin was blinding, his hands holding your body as close to his as humanly possible because he did not want you to stop. He probably would've deserved it if you did stop, but you were too good to him to do that.

"You're going to be the death of me." He groaned, his mouth falling open at the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

For a moment he wondered why he would ever deprive himself of this, even if it was entertaining to watch you fall apart for him. Your arousal further drenched his lap and the tops of his thighs, the sound of you slamming onto him making his head go fuzzy.

You couldn't help but give a soft laugh that turned into a breathy moan when he buried his face in your breasts, kissing and biting at whatever he could get his mouth around.

This was a much better stress reliever for both of you, and you knew you could have it any time that you asked.

And that was something worth taking advantage of.

"That makes two of us."

[sinnersweets]

Cream Pie

DogDay x Reader (lemon)

Includes characters from my story so I recommend reading that first before reading this (pinned post)

Minors DNI!!

A/N: You asked for this

“Damian! Sarahs here!” “Coming!” I could hear Damian running around upstairs. Once a week Damian would stay over at Sarahs house and spend the night there, leaving me and DogDay to have some alone time. Though I will admit that every time he left my heart ached for him, he was my little kiddo. Damian came down the stairs with his backpack on and in his left arm was his plushie of his dad. “All ready kiddo?” “Yep!” I grabbed onto his hand and led him outside towards Sarahs car. Before he entered the car, I gave him a kiss on his forehead and hugged him. “You be good now.” “I will mom.” “I love you.” “I love you too mom and tell dad I love him also.” I let go of him and opened the door for him. “I will.” I waved goodbye as Sarah drove off.  

--------------- 

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. “Angel! I’m home!” “I’m in the kitchen!” I could hear the front door close and soon heard DogDay come into the kitchen. “Where’s our little boy at?” “He already left for Sarahs.” I said while finishing up some dishes. “Aw, I was hoping I’d be here in time to see him off.” I could hear him put some bags onto the counter before he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. 

“Angel~” I smiled and said, “Yes?” “It’s our time now.” He placed a kiss on top of my head while squeezing me. “I know. I’m almost done with these dishes and then-” I stopped talking as DogDay moved his hands down and started to unbutton my pants. My heart started racing. “Let’s play a game Angel. I’m going to touch you and you try to finish the dishes, okay?” DogDay then unzipped my pants and placed his hand outside of my underwear.  

My breathing got slightly heavier. “O-okay.” Already my voice was shaky. I knew there was no way I would be able to finish the dishes if he was going to touch me, but it sounded exciting. Once I started washing dishes again is when DogDay started to move his fingers in a circular motion down there. “Already wet are we~” DogDay then bent down and whispered, “Naughty Angel~” while nibbling on my ear. 

The way my body was feeling right now was indescribable. I bit down on my bottom lip and did my best to wash dishes. He stayed in the same spot for a few seconds before pulling on the side of my underwear and moving it out of his way. “Doing good Angel. But I promise you won’t be able to focus here in a few seconds~” As I now got a better feeling of him rubbing in between my folds I let out a soft moan. DogDay chuckled as he moved from my ear and onto my neck, kissing lightly and sucking on it.  

I was holding onto a wine cup and couldn’t continue rinsing it. Without a warning DogDay placed two fingers inside of me and started moving them in and out of me at a steady pace. My legs started shaking and I arched my back and placed my head on his chest. “Ah~” DogDay got rougher with my neck and started biting down a little hard, but not enough to hurt me.  

With one arm I wrapped it around his neck, digging my nails into his shoulder and with the other, clutching onto the cup. DogDay started moaning which only turned me on even more. As his movements got faster and faster, I started squeezing the cup in my hand a little too tight and next thing you know, I snapped it in half. 

Me and DogDay looked down at the sink and both sighed when we saw that I didn’t cut myself. “Haha, guess my Angel was enjoying herself.” He took his fingers out of me and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me up to our bedroom. “I hope you know Angel that once we reach our room my lips will be all over your body.” “Can’t wait~”  

Once we entered our room, he pushed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. I returned the kiss and moved my tongue against his lips asking for entry. Of course, he allowed my tongue inside his mouth and both our tongues became intertwined with one another. Both our breathing grew harder and so did the kiss. 

While still kissing each other he moved us onto the bed. Without looking I untied his sun pendant. DogDay placed it onto the nightstand and then started to raise my shirt up over my head. We broke away from the kiss, our saliva connected to each other's tongue. “You look absolutely sexy without a shirt on Angel. My god how I cannot get enough of your body.” “And you are just so fucking hot; with and without your pendant.”  

As DogDay looked down at me with my bra on he got this look in his eyes. “You know what Angel? I’ve suddenly become hungry.” That threw me off. “Oh? Um what did you want?” “You.” DogDay grabbed both of my wrists and moved them above my head. He reached over for his pendant and tied my wrists together with it. Oh fuck was this about to get intense. 

My chest moved up and down a little fast. I wasn’t expecting this at all! DogDay started kissing my neck and then slowly moved down my body. I couldn’t help but moan as his kisses felt so good on my body. Once DogDay kissed under my belly button he started moving my pants and underwear off of me.  

He tossed them onto the floor and licked his lips. “Ready Angel?” I nodded my head and closed my eyes, not knowing what to expect. He lowered his head in between my thighs and kissed the sides of them before moving into the center. There he kissed up and down my area before he started moving his tongue and eating me out. “Ah fuck~” I pulled on the restraints, needing to grab onto something.  

Within minutes my legs started shaking and I could feel a knot form in my stomach. “DogDay I’m-ah~” I couldn’t talk. He was eating me out good. So good in fact that he raised himself up, somehow getting deeper with the kiss. I draped my legs over his shoulders. This new angle was so good that I soon released and the knot in my stomach disappeared. “Holy fuck.” I was breathing hard. DogDay licked up what came out of me and gently lowered my body back onto the bed. “Delicious.” DogDay then lowered himself to my ear and said, “Now for my favorite part~” Ah yes ‘doggy style.’ I smiled and while still being restrained I managed to flip myself over. “Say goodbye to your legs Angel, because I’m going to pound into you so hard you’re going to need me to carry you everywhere after this~” 

--------------- 

“How was school today kiddo?” DogDay asked Damian as we all sat together for dinner. “It was really fun! It was field day and we got to play all these games, and then for lunch we had sandwiches, and they even gave us some cream pies to smash into the teacher's face. Most of them weren’t a fan of the taste.” “You know I had some cream pie the other day and it was delicious.” I covered my mouth so as not to spit out my drink. Damian looked at me with a confused look but then looked back to DogDay. “Really? When?” DogDay looked at me and smiled before saying, “When you went over to Sarahs house.” I could feel my face heat up. I know Damain has no clue what his dad really means but still! “Mom why didn’t you save me any? You know I love your pies.” “Yeah Angel.” DogDay laughed as he spoke. “Well, you see- um your dad was just very hungry that day and ate the whole thing, haha....” DogDay busted out laughing and Damian looked so confused. I looked over at DogDay and gave him a look that said, ‘I am going to kill you’ but he just stuck his tongue out at me. 

--------------- 

“Hello my beautiful Angel.” DogDay said as he came down the stairs. “Hello my love.” It was coming close to mine and DogDays anniversary, and I was going to get him back for the little stunt he pulled in front of Damian.  In my hand was a bag and I walked over to DogDay before he finished coming down the stairs. “When you go out today I need you to return this, it’s what I was going to wear for our anniversary.” DogDay took the bag from my hands and reached into the bag to see what it was. He pulled out the only item in the bag. “Nothing in here but lipstick.” I couldn’t help but grin as it took him a while to understand what I had meant. Once he realized his ears perked up and he looked at me with his jaw slightly open. I walked up a few steps to get eye level with him and said, “Suffer~” 

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the Sith: episode ii

Pairing: Qimir x Black!female oc

Word count: 3463

Warnings: Fluff, Heavy flirting. little bit of tension. (probably typos) swearing

master list

A couple hours have passed since the masked man had taken Luna to his caved hideout, where he laid her down on his king sized bed. He took note of her small frame, wondering how did she get here, let alone survive.

She wouldn't even be able to bruise a fly

The man sat at the edge of the bed, continuing his analysis on the young one. Noting every detail of her face, from her full two toned lips to the tactical gear that hugged the curved planes of her figure. She looked peaceful as she slept, like a sleeping beauty.

That's enough, I look like a creep right now. He stands up from the bed, heading to the makeshift clothesline that hung from the stone wall. He had been in his clothes all day and deeply craved a nice dip in the ocean pool

Slowly, he starts to remove the black robe, starting at his waist before shimming the cloth from shoulders, leaving his back and chest out for display. The man reaches to remove his helmet until sounds of light movement is heard from behind him.

she's awake

"How was your little nap?", The masked man asked with a smirk, his back still towards her. His fingers move away from his masks reaching instead for his cream colored rob that hung on the clothes line.

Luna, still riddled with the drowsiness of sleep, shifts uncomfortably in the bed, wondering how she got here and who was the shirtless man who stood ahead of her.

She stayed quiet, observing her surroundings, looking for the escape route.

"I'm not gonna hurt you...well, not unless you give me a reason to," The man turned around swifty, toying with the linen cloth of the rob in his hand, nonchalantly.

Luna inhaled sharply, being met the the disturbing mask he wore.

Who is this guy?

"Who are you?" Luna doesn't hesitate, the uncomfort she felt quickly transformed into bold fearlessness. It was obvious he wasn't going to kill her, he would've just left her in the forest if that was the case. But no he brought her back and placed her on the softest bed she has ever laid on.

"I should ask you that. You are on my planet after all," Masked man quipped back. Luna rolled her almond shaped eyes and he couldn't helped but smile at her reaction.

"Your planet? Where's the deed," Luna claps back with a lack of fear that the masked man found impressive.

"I don't need a deed on a planet with nobody living on it,"

"Right, well, I'll leave you to YOUR planet," Luna attempts to climb off the bed, completely forgetting about her fucked up ankle, when her foot makes contact with the cold floor. A sharp pain rushed up her body, rushing up her throat like once before, but she holds in the yelp that threatens to escape, wincing instead.

The man tilts his head, his covered eyebrows furrowing in concern before making his way towards her, kneeling to meet her aching foot. Luna's eyes meet the slits of his mask that allows the man behind it to see. She notices his reaching hand, signaling to her ankle and with hesitation she allows him to hold her.

The man grabs ahold of her ankle, nothing how easily he could wrap his whole hand around it. Luna sighs at the contact partially in pain, but a part in an indescribable feeling. A feeling similar to before, but more tingly. One that starts at her foot and ends at her stomach. He pulls the tight fabric of her cargo pants up to expose the red, swollen flesh. Everything looked in place, nothing broken.

I might as well tell him my name if i'm gonna let him touch me like this

"Luna." He looks up, his golden mask nearly hitting her chin by how close they were.

"You can call me Qimir," Qimir nodded bringing his attention back to her possibly twisted ankle, rubbing it gently with his long fingers," How does it feel now?"

Luna attempts to move it around, it didn't hurt as much as before, but a feeling still lingered

"A little better," The girl nodded, using her new found mobility to move herself out of his grasp. Placing her foot on the ground softly, careful to not put too much pressure on it.

Qimir still kneeled before her, gazing at her through his thick mask. Observing her. She was easily the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes upon. And her demeanor. She didn't hold the same fear that others had when met with him. Then again, he was typically holding a light saber preparing to attack.

"Sooo, what's underneath this mask. Is half your face burned or something?," Luna brought her dainty hands up to knock on the skull of the mask gently in a joking matter. Her lips curling into a smile.

Qimir couldn't help but smile swell, glad that the mask did its job of hiding his face. But maybe he wanted her to see.

"Why don't you find out," the still shirtless man suggested, nodding the mask forward giving her permission to take it off of him. Luna raises an eyebrow, wondering if this was a test and he was actually planning to cut off her fingers at soon as she starts to lift it. However, her curiosity was too strong to deny. She wondered if his face looked as good or better than his exposed chest and back.

Luna reaches forward slowly with both hands, coming in contact with the strikingly cold metal that contrasted the heat of nervousness she felt.

Qimir let out a deep exhale, preparing to be unmasked for the first infant of someone. He doesn't know what gave him the sudden courage to do it now, with her especially. He just met her. But in the short amount of time he had spent with her, he was very intrigued.

The mask finally lifted, revealing his face which makes Luna's eyes widen and her heart race.

Oh, he's definitely not burned. Why would he hide such a gorgeous face?

The guy sported a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, nice pink lips and hair that had a mind of its mind, tendrils falling in front of his perfectly crafted face. Their eyes finally meet.

Qimir scoots closer, placing his hand on the bed, entrapping her between him. Their faces only inches apart. Luna almost stopped breathing. She has no clue what is going on. What she was feeling. Her heart raced and she felt the tingles once again. His eyes glance down at her luscious lips just for a split second, dragging them up impossibly slow to her eyes again.

"Like what you see?," Qimir teases, a mischievous smirk making it way on his lips. His eyes still holding the world's most intense eye contact.

cocky much, Luna thinks as she rolled her eyes, pushing herself back further onto the bed, creating a respectable amount of distance between them. She shakes her head, attempting to find a way to escape his question.

"I'm hungry," Luna says abruptly, adverting her gaze away from him with a defiant cross of her arms, like a toddler.

Qimir's smirk grows wider, enjoying the effect he had on her, regardless of how hard she tried to push him away.

The man stands up from his kneeling position, his pelvis now pretty much aligned to Luna's eyesight. Which is met with deliciously chiseled abs that led to an even more defined v-line. Her eyes dragged lower, wondering what the v-line could be pointing to.

Luna is brought out of her thoughts when a large hand appears infront of her offering her help, but obstructing the view she once had. She takes his right hand in hers, feeling his course calloused fingers gripping hers, right before he wraps his other around her tiny waist. Qimir presses the girl to him, insuring that her foot doesn't make contact with the ground, Luna drapes her clothed arm around his neck for extra support. That extra support However, led her to feeling the ripples of his upper back, a part of her craving to feel him skin to skin.

Qimir swiftly brings her to the main room, where he places her on the lonely cushioned chair that sat in front of an old steel stove to which the man makes his way towards.

On the stove, was a pot of soupy food, one of Qimir's favorite. He fixed Luna a bowl, bringing this dish to her. As it arrived, Luna saw a green unappetizing sludge. It looked like bile. Her face curls up in disgust and before she could say no, Qimir places the bowl in her lap.

"Just try it first before throwing a fit," He shakes his head at her, heading back to the stove to make himself a rather large serving. Luna plays with the gooey substance, icking herself out.

I cannot look at this any longer

Her eyes rip away, moving onto something actually quite pleasing to the eye. Qimir's wide back, detailed the meticulously crafted muscles. Almost as if he was designed by god himself. Her eyes traveled lower being met with a gnarly scar that adorned him. It looked intense and very painful.

"How'd you get the scar?" Luna ask with no hesitation, making Qimir chuckle lightly, not necessarily out of humor, but rather because of how blunt this young girl was. She had no clue who he was, or the things he have done, yet she held no fear. Not scared to ask him questions.

"What does it look like?," He says coldly, but genuinely asking for her interpretation, turning around slowly with a spoon in his mouth. He leans against the stove, awaiting her answer.

He wasn't insecure about his scar, no quite the opposite. He wore it with pride as he believe that its showed his strength and resilience. However, Qimir wasn't fond of how it reminded him of the ones who betrayed him, broken his trust and disowned him. The people he once called family. Ever since that moment, he has always craved an unbreakable bond. Someone who he could trust, who wouldn't betray him. Someone he could train. An acolyte.

Luna hums, actually taking her time to respond, "Looks like you got stabbed in the back." She says in the gentlest voice, not a trace of malice to be found. Qimir nods softly, affirming her guess.

The air becomes quiet, Luna sensing that this might not be a topic to press.

"How'd you get the fucked up ankle?," Qimir throw the question back at her, unintentionally lightening the mood. Luna smiles, almost forgetting about her stupid avoidable injury.

"I was climbing a tree, then I fell," The girl kept it short, being as vague as he was. Qimir shook his head knowing that there's wayyy more to the story.

climbing a tree huh. As if she can't do that on any other planet. There's something she's not telling.

"What are you, a child? Tell me the real reason," The shirtless man interrogates, his face hardening becoming suspicious of her sudden appearance. For as long as he has been here, no one has visited this lonely planet. What if she actually is with the Jedi.

Luna rolled her eyes at his quip, not appreciating the sudden turning on her. She didn't press on about his suspicious back scar, so why is he pressing about her climbing a tree.

Her eye meet Qimir's dark ones, who stared at her, waiting very patiently for her answer.

Oh, He is not budging. Luna sighs

"That is the truth. I was climbing a tree to get fruit," Luna brings her gaze to her swollen ankle, remembering the whole objective of this mission. She should be heading home right now, a bog full of the fruit, spending their last moments together as mother and daughter. But here she sat in a cave that apparently belong to this strange man of which she shared flirtatious gazes. With a stupid twisted ankle.

Tears threaten to pour from Luna's eyes, but she hold them back due to the company that stood ahead of her. Qimir notices the sudden change in her demeanor, feeling awful as he assumes that he's the one who caused this. The man rushes in her directions, sitting on his knees like previously, placing both of their bowls on the table beside them. Qimir uses his now free hand to place on her knee, rubbing soft soothing circles with his thumb.

Luna sniffles while the warmth of his hand consumes her, in the best possible way. Able to find the strength to continue.

"It's for my mom...S-She has cancer," Luna forces a painful smile, looking to be optimistic. Qimir's heart tugs. He rarely felt sympathy for people. Hell he rather enjoyed seeing others suffer in agony, especially from his hands. But Luna. It felt like a knife to the chest just hearing how her voice trembled.

Luna's full lips trembled, the dam holding her tear failing, streams fall from her dark almond eyes. Qimir freezes in space unsure of what to do. He rarely had contact with other, especially not in such an intimate setting. He panics.

Qimir reaches for her face, his course hand cradling her beautiful face. He holds her like a baby bird, afraid he might crush her with his lack of experience of holding something with such care. Her skin felt like cashmere on his fingers. A part of him wanted to hold her like this forever. Tears continued to fall from her caring eyes and Qimir uses his calloused thumb wipe it. Her eyes finally met his in which led to an intense eye contact. An intense understanding. An intense comfortable stare that causes both of their hearts to race in an unformed pace.

Eventually the sniffling and tears stop as Luna focuses on dealing with the concerning beating of her heart and heat that courses through her body. She brings a hand up, gripping onto Qimir's forearm for stability as if she's not already sitting down.

Qimir feels the trembling of her hand on his arm and pulls away suddenly, breaking the intimate gaze and he is reminded that she still hasn't eaten. Luna lets out a deep breath that she didn't know she was holding, letting her hand fall from his bare arm.

"You need to eat," Qimir brings the bowl back to her. Luna's face scrunches up in the cutest face he has ever seen as she is once again presented with that grossness. Qimir scoops a small bite with the wooden spoon, looking as if he was preparing to feed her himself. Luna raises an eyebrow at him.

There is no way he gonna feed me like a baby after I just got done crying.

"Luna, This is all I have currently and you need to eat so you can heal. So you can get back to your mom," Qimir pleads. Luna stares that the spoon, his words working on her. Starving would not help her. She nods, giving in.

He brings the bowl underneath her chin, the spoon following suit as if in slow motion. Luna's eyes stare up at him with a hint of fear like a little doe. For some reason, that arouses Qimir. The fact that she's afraid of this food and not him.

As the spoon itches towards Luna's thick lips which she begins to part slightly, Qimir finds himself leaning in closer swell. As if she is a siren luring him to his death. The spoon enters her gorgeous mouth, her lips wrapping around the spoon and Qimir can't help but imagine other things going in as well. Luna close her eyes, surprising pleased with what she tastes, a soft moan escaping from her.

Qimir smiles, shaking himself from his trance. He has no clue what has gotten into him. The most dangerous woman was one who didn't know the effects they had on a man. Especially a man like him.

Luna snatche the wooden bowl from the man becoming a Tasmanian devil as she scoops the soup into her mouth.

I knew she'd like It but Jeez, when was the last time this girl ate?

Qimir rose from hit squatted position in front of her, giving her space to enjoy the fish. He saunters off to the cave opening which lead to the ocean pool. It was now dark, the still water reflecting the full moon that shined bright above. The breeze blowing gently causing the temperature to drop drastically from earlier.

Qimir sighed in disappointment, coming to terms with the fact that he missed the opportunity to indulge in a warm, relaxing bath and now has to settle for a cold, chilling one.

“Where are you off to?,” Luna chirps up from inside the bowl that she now licked clean. Qimir leans against the rock of the cave, smiling at her ravenous hunger.

“I was gonna bathe in the pool. Care to join?,” The tall, easily six foot, man flirts not so subtlety. A cheeky grin growing on his face.

Luna freezes mid lick. Eyes shot wide. Unsure if she heard him correctly. She slowly lowers the bowl and gulps.

bathe? with you? don’t mind if i do Qimir.

“I—Uh. I don’t. I—Qim,” Despite the confidence of her words in her head. Nothing coherent comes out. It’s almost like a cork was stuck in her throat.

Luna has experienced flirting before, of course. She’s a beaut. However, she never entertained the ideas that men threw at her. If anything she always found it gross and disorderly. Even with school crushes, though she ‘liked’ them, their advances would make her uncomfortable.

Which is why this experience with Qimir is so…outerworldly. He made her feel things she’s never felt before. He made her STUTTER, when she typically held a true confidence when she spoke.

“Joking. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to swim with a hurt ankle anyway huh,” Qimir winks. Seeing her react in that way to such vanilla request was wildly entertaining. so innocent

“hehe, right,” Luna forces a soft laugh to try and ease the embarrassment she felt. She felt so dumb for thinking he was actually offering. And she felt so stupid for being unable to form a sentence.

She places the empty bowl on the table beside her, just before a yawn escapes her.

“Well, I think im going to go to sleep,” Qimir pushes off the wall, rushing his way to her to help carry her into the room. That is, Until Luna stops him with a hand, “Don’t worry, i got it. Go enjoy your bath.”

Luna successfully stands up from the lonely cushioned chair, careful to keep pressure off of her foot. She smiles triumphantly at Qimir, showing him that she’s all good, before hopping on her one good foot to the bedroom.

Silence fills the air. A silence that Qimir has come accustomed to after being here alone for so long. But now the silence felt empty.

get it together. she’s just here until she’s healed. don’t get used to it buddy.

Qimir nods at his inner voice, facing back to the pool, preparing himself for his cold bath.

……..

Qimir returns from the pool with his night robe on as he tip toes into the bedroom careful not to wake Luna. Immediately, he notices the girl in his bed, the red duvet covered her bottom just stopping right below her breast. Bringing attention to the fact that she no longer wore her tactical gear, that now decorated the floor. She now only wore her undergarments of a black sphegetti strapped tank top that hugged the roundness of her breasts. The cold draft that enter through the cave entrance clearing hitting her as he nipples stood taut.

Q shakes his head, removing his eyes from the goddess in his bed.

stop being creepy.

The man returns to reality, taking the extra blanket and pillow from the bed to place camp on the floor.

“Qimir? We can share the bed,” Luna’s sleep ridden voice breaks the silence. She was watching him.

He stops making his own doggy bed on the side, staring up straight to look into her eyes, “Are you sure?”

The girl nods, "I trust you," her curly hair that now sat in a messy top bun, followed her nods.

Qimir took in a sharp breath. He hasn’t shared a bed with a woman in years. Too busy with his own endeavors to entertain such activities. So this was…something for him as he climbs into the bed next to her.

They lie face to face, Luna’s eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. Qimir loses almost two hours of sleep just admiring every detail on her face. Admiring the frizziness of her hair. The curl of her lashes. The soft noises she makes in her rapid eye movement sleep. How she sleeps in fetal position all night. He had to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around her. Cuddling her through the night.

She’s such an angel.

episode iii

[underthetree845]

(dazai osamu birthday post- 2024)

A Taste of Sunlight

Dazai Osamu/gn! Reader (oneshot)

cws: gn! reader (uses of 'bella(donna)') but gender not explicitly stated, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, ada dazai, ada reader, coworkers/friends to lovers, domestic love, domestic fluff, implied mutual pining, mentions of dazai's past suicide attempts, dazai's past spoilers, dazai's dark thoughts, dazai calling himself inhuman and undeserving, baking together, dazai's birthday, reader is dazai's safe space

wc: about 3.7k

summary: how will reader make dazai feel special on his birthday when he doesn't feel like he deserves to?

a/n: this turned out a little darker with dazai's thoughts than I thought it would, but i'm satisfied with how i wrapped things up! i know it's been awhile since i posted my own writing- burnout hit me pretty hard and it's been difficult to get back on my feet, but i knew i had to do something special for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Ceilings, plaster. Can’t someone just make it move faster? Abandoned bottles of sake scattered on the tatami mat floor of his bedroom catch the light of the late morning sun as it creeps in through the curtains he keeps forgetting to close. Or rather, the curtains he can never bother to close on certain nights. He never forgets, not really. The dusty little fan in the corner of his room does little to break up the lingering staleness which hangs in the air. You should really open a window in here Dazai-kun, he heard your voice echo in the basement of his mind, Sunlight and fresh air are good for you. You were probably right. Sunlight and fresh air are good for you, everyone knows that. You somehow always are right about him. 

The sun had already found his skin that morning- or rather, the shield of cloth he uses to hide the vast nothingness underneath. The icky, inhuman blackness that he would never allow a creature like you to even brush with your fingertips. For the first time that day since observing the sun come up out his window with hollow eyes and a blank expression, Dazai sat up. Ignoring the slight ache in his head and soreness of his muscles, bandages seeming to be the only thing holding him together, Dazai arose from his futon and silently slumped to his kitchen to down a glass of water. Today was a pointless day. One that shouldn’t have happened at all. Probably one of the worst of Dazai’s life, save for a few particularly nightmarish ones. Nightmares. Maybe he’d wake up, wake up as somebody completely different; or as an old man, and realize that the countertop in front of him and fingers wrapped around the sturdy white mug in his grasp were all really from a time long gone. The mug’s black, dotted on eyes stared back up at him, Dazai’s own brown ones focused, the emotion behind them simply indescribable. Part of Dazai feared waking up too. Something light, something warm, managed to flicker in the cavern of his chest at the memory of the grin that had spread across your lips upon presenting him with the cat mug. A grin you only ever seemed to take on for his eyes. You, he should be ashamed of himself for allowing skin so pure to meet with his own bloody, bandaged hands. Muddled flesh that hardly ever got a taste of the sunlight which always seemed to bathe the surface of your skin. Dazai Osamu had always been a sinner, would it really make his eternal damnation that much worse if he decided to linger in your comforting embrace for a moment longer? 

Yes, today never should have happened. The first one so many years ago, and all the years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret that followed. The number taunted him from the calendar Kunikida had insisted he hang up on his wall, your support in the idea being the only reason he had gone through with it at all. 06 19. The nineteenth of June. June 19th. Definitely some sort of horrible mistake by the gods of this universe. If they even existed. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. Most things can be predicted- whether it be by pattern of behavior… calculated likelihood, or something else of the like. Dazai thought- and still did- that it would be tragically poetic if the date of birth and the date of death on a gravestone perfectly matched. Right down to the date of the month. Yes, a perfectly beautiful idea of a gravestone Dazai had tried a handful of times to make his own. He had the scars to prove it. Aside from empty ‘happy birthday’s from the other executives, there were only really two people in the mafia who placed any sort of importance on Dazai’s birthday.  None of that mattered now. Of course, in reality, all of it mattered. It was what led him here, to the light which now poured in through the window in the living room of his little apartment. In the almost two years Dazai had been employed at the Armed Detective Agency, he’d had one birthday. He was new enough in the office last year that the prospect of his colleagues doing anything to commemorate the event was not very keen. Such was his hope. He did get a lollipop from Ranpo and a ‘happy birthday’ from Kunikida; the blonde did not get on Dazai’s back over his paperwork for the whole day. That was, until you first stepped foot into the agency a few months into Dazai’s employment. Ironically, in spite of all the warm welcomes you received from his colleagues, the brunette found himself extremely suspicious of you. No one could possibly charm that many detectives with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile. Not just anyone could possibly hold that much warmth in their laughter and still have so much to share. That smile of yours. Dazai had ended many lives for many different reasons, despite having failed at cutting his own short so many times. Rarely did he ever spill blood to protect someone- much less because of some irrational, sentimental attachment. If not for his years in the mafia, it probably would have frightened Dazai to realize how easily he would watch the world burn if it meant that smile of yours would be safe. As it turns out, Dazai wasn’t entirely wrong. You weren’t just anyone- you were Name. You, who he didn’t deserve to even stand anywhere near. Who shouldn’t even bother buying someone like him some cat mug that made you think of him. He never knew he could be so emotionally attached to a piece of ceramic. But that was nothing compared to the way you made his head spin.  You would let out a giggle while calling him a flirt for the millionth time. You would share your umbrella with him on a rainy day, circle his birthday in a bright red marker on the little calendar sitting neatly on your desk. The desk right across from his. He’d pretend to not notice the glances you steal because he knows he’s far worse. Buying each other coffee on occasion- usual orders memorized. Experiencing such simple pleasures on a weekly basis- how could anyone have not expected Dazai to fall as hard as he did? 

The thing that broke him out of his trance were four soft knocks on the door. The same way you would knock on the wood of his desk to discreetly get his attention. Dazai was about to dismiss the four knocks as a phantom of his imagination before they sounded again, causing him to turn his head and peer at the door as if it had just grown a pair of wings and flown away. Before you could get the chance to knock again or ring his phone, Dazai ran a bandaged hand through his scruffy locks before brightening up his expression slightly and opening the door. And there you were- not unlike the sunlight which flooded in through the entryway, the first thing you did was send prickles of warmth into his skin and allow that smile of yours to glow. 

“Ah, Bella! I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Dazai greeted you with a singsong voice, “You’re looking as radiant as ever. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai held his mask up for the whole sixty seconds it took you to reply. In that time, your honeyed eyes scanned over the expanse of his face in a way only you could make so overwhelming. The grin on his lips, though meticulously crafted, failed to meet his eyes. He knew you could tell the moment your irises flickered with an emotion far too deep for Dazai to have the energy to explore. You somehow always were right about him.  It didn’t take much longer for you to ask if you could come in for a while, and Dazai accepted as if he’d ever have the strength to refuse. The fabric tote bag clunked with weight as you placed it on his kitchen counter, Dazai trailed behind you as if your torsos were connected by some invisible string. His eyes reminded you of a burnt black cat.

As far as cooking came, Dazai knew how to prepare a few basic things. How to scramble eggs, how to steam rice, how to use the microwave, how to open a can of crabs. It had always been too much of a nuisance to bother with anything more. The cigarettes and sake sustained him well enough. Even so, he found himself peering over your shoulder with dark, curious eyes as you unpacked several ingredients and laid them neatly on the counter.

“My my, did you go shopping for me? How thoughtful,” a small grin played on Dazai’s lips as he held up a tiny bottle of vanilla extract with an inspectful eye. Uncapping the bottle, he took a moment to inhale the scent, goosebumps rising underneath the bandages on the back of his neck at how much it reminded him of your usual shampoo.

“You like cheesecake, right?” you asked, voice a gentle breeze as you tilted your head in his direction. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. He paused momentarily, raising an eyebrow as you cleaned your hands in the sink. How you came to acquire such a fact was beyond him. Your fingers then reached out to preheat the oven, the one he usually didn’t spare so much as a glance. “I’ve only had the chance to taste it a handful of times, but I do have to admit, I’m a fan,” Dazai replied. You were smart enough to bring your own mixing bowls, pans, and stirring utensils. Sometimes he questioned how he ever allowed you to come to know him so well. “If you wanna help me, would you mind washing your hands first, please?” you requested, and Dazai didn’t even wait a moment before turning to the sink. 

You did a better job of filling his apartment with warmth and light than the sun ever could. From the way your shoes sat at the front door right next to his own to the way your perfume would linger around after you’d taken your leave. Your fingers would cup over his own as you demonstrated how to properly stir the ingredients together. He would internally curse the persistence of the butterfly in his chest when you commented on how pretty you thought his hands were. You made his sparsely decorated, thin-walled little apartment feel just a little more like a home. Dazai waited patiently with the batter in his arms as you pressed the buttery graham cracker crust firmly into the pan. If the universe were kind, he would have been allowed to stand there and take you in until the end of time. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever deserve to have someone like you in his life. Not the way your eyes softened when they met his, not the way you flushed so beautifully in response to his compliments and praise. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to give you as much as you deserve. He didn’t even come close to deserving the trust you must have had in him that evening on the metro, when you slept on the shoulder of his coat. Both of you missed your stops that day. How could anyone have expected him to have the heart to disturb you? They were the ones who whispered how he didn’t even have one.

Before he knew it, the cake was almost ready to be placed in the oven. Your fingers cupped his own once more as you helped him pour the batter evenly before scraping the last bit out with the blue silicone spatula from your bag. He spun the pan in a circle on the countertop to even the batter as you slipped a pair of well used oven mitts onto your hands. “Looks perfect,” you offered some gentle praise and he felt his heart soften. Once the batter had been slid into the warmth of the oven, you removed the floral print oven mitts from your hands and leaned against the counter with a sigh. Dazai’s eyes were drawn to the way your fingers were delicately folded in front of you, how soft your skin looked and how it might feel against his own. From the gentle curve of your lips to how your eyelashes brushed your cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed… he found himself at a loss. You always somehow seemed to dwindle him to a shadow of his former self, bring out sides of him he didn’t even know he had. Out of all the crimes Dazai had committed in his life, stealing your heart was by far the worst one. He didn’t think he’d be able to give your heart back if he tried, especially when you held his own so easily in the palm of your hand. “Have you had water today?” you voiced, finally turning to bless him with your gaze. “I drank some just before you came, actually,” Dazai replied, eyes briefly flickering over to the now empty cat mug sitting on the counter. “Would you care for something to drink yourself? What might suit your fancy, m’lady?” He cocked his head playfully. Your eyes regarded his thoughtfulness. A look far too fond for someone like him. Especially from someone like you. “Some water might be nice, thank you.” “You know I aim to please,” he nodded slightly, opening the fridge to get his pitcher.

A little while later, a timer went off on your phone, and Dazai tilted his head when you slid the oven mitts back on and set the cheesecake on the stovetop. “Isn’t it a bit too soon, Bella?” he inquired, leaning over your shoulder as you grabbed a little green bowl that had previously been set aside, “The center still looks a bit too mushy, doesn't it?” You hummed slightly, a pleased expression crossing your face. “Look at you, getting more adept at cooking already?” a soft grin played on your lips as you gave him an affectionate pat on his cheek. “I’m learning from the best,” Dazai replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “You’re right, it’s not quite done yet, but I’m adding the topping now so it can cook a little with the cheesecake at the very end,” you explained as you carefully poured the topping on, “It’s usually done this way. Makes it yummier.” It’s wrong, Dazai thinks, to indulge himself in your company like this. There are a million other better ways you could be spending your time. Not taking the time out of your day to come fan a flame already at the end of its wick. Even so, even if a part of Dazai might never allow himself to fully believe what you say when you tell him what kind of person he is in your precious eyes, nothing but being in your arms has ever felt so close to what others might describe as home.  Not where he grew up, not his shitty old shipping container or the mattress on its rotting floor. Not any of the places he would lie awake at night hoping to waste away or any of the many bottles of sake that have met his lips. They filled his stomach, flushed his skin, but left his chest cold, barren, empty. “Cherries are in season this time of year you know?” you said, sighing at the scent of the mashed up fruit and sugar bubbling in the pan in front of you. Combined with the warm scent of the cheesecake wafting from the oven, even Dazai, whose appetite usually didn’t amount to much at all, found his mouth beginning to water. “Are they?” he tilted his head with a fond smile, imagining what it might be like to get used to having you in his kitchen more often. What a dream it would be to have coming home mean coming home to you. You looked so perfect in his apartment it almost hurt. Whether you were curled up on the cushions of his couch, cross legged on the floor, or standing in front of the stove pouring some homemade cherry sauce over a freshly made cheesecake, he would take it all. Savor every last bit of the warmth and light with which you filled his apartment.  “Why don’t you open a window in here before we start eating?” you suggested, and Dazai let out a breath of resigned amusement. He stood from where he had been leaning against the countertop and strolled over to the living room. “Hm, Bella, don’t people usually eat cheesecake cold?” Dazai wondered, looking back at you for a moment as you grabbed a pair of forks from a drawer. “Yeah, they do,” you replied, placing two equally sized slices of cheesecake onto one of the plates from Dazai’s cabinet. He didn’t have to remind you where they were kept. “But personally I like eating it warm, I always have,” your lips curved up into a smile, “especially when it’s freshly baked. Makes it yummier.” “Huh, well I trust your opinion,” he offered a slight smile, returning to take a seat at the little round table just as the two plates were lowered. The cheesecake looked even more appetizing now that it had been neatly sliced and plated, but nothing made him want to eat it more than the fact that it had been prepared by the loveliest pair of hands he had ever met. 

Dazai took notice of the way you held your breath when he took his first bite; you shouldn’t have been so anxious for the approval from the likes of him, yet he found it hard to get himself to care when you looked so downright adorable while doing it. His eyelids slid shut for a brief moment, being sure to completely savor the mouthful before swallowing with a bob of his throat and finally meeting your gaze with his own. “Bella…” Dazai started, hands unmoving, voice lower than usual. You furrowed your brows when you couldn’t decipher his tone. “What is it? Is it okay?” you leaned forward, eyes searching his face for any sort of indication. “Do… do you not like it?” something pulled tight in your chest at the thought, your grip on your fork stiffened slightly, “It’s okay if you don’t, you can say so.” The following heartbeat of silence felt like it stretched on for an eternity. “Bella you’ve ruined me,” he sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat and placing the back of his hand on his forehead in exasperation, “How am I ever supposed to enjoy anyone else’s cheesecake ever again?” His heart nearly melted when you paired a blink with the slightest tilt of your head, he could see the wheels in your mind turning for answers. “So you… do like it?” you spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb whatever strange state of emotion Dazai was using to express his feelings about the cheesecake. “No, my Dear, I’m afraid ‘like’ isn’t nearly a strong enough word, not even close!” he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, “I love it so much, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cheesecake ever again unless you make it for me.” Finally, Dazai gets his reward when a grin splits onto your lips. “Is that so?” you giggle when he cups your hands between his own and nods urgently. That smile of yours. “Absolutely. You’ve doomed me to a pathetic existence,” Dazai pretended to cringe in pain, “forever wandering in search of the joy I once experienced, never knowing if-” “...I’ll do it again,” you said, and his ears perked up. “Hmm? What was that? You’ll do what again?” he raised his eyebrows, satisfied with the flush now evident on your cheeks. “I’ll make you cheesecake for your next birthday, and the one after that, and any time you want some in between,” you smiled sweetly, and Dazai’s heart leapt at your sincerity. “Do you mean it?” his eyes seemed to light up slightly, matching the sparkle in your own. He squeezed your hands. 

There was a saying in the Port Mafia. ‘The biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ Whether they called him a demon prodigy or the black wraith or a dog of the mafia really made no difference. When the sun set, they would be the ones quivering at the barrel of his gun as he listened to their pleas with cold, dead eyes. Dazai has been called by many names throughout his life; most, he knew, were well deserved. Even when addressed by his own name, it was usually out of exasperation, irritation, unease, or something else of the like. People spat his name with the bitter bite of a cold rain, and he couldn’t even remember the last time someone uttered his given name very tenderly at all. It was dangerous, Dazai thought, how easily he could see himself growing used to being with you like this. Pathetic, how the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was reduced to a shell of himself the moment you offered so much as a smile. The way you said his name made him seem like something precious; something worthy of getting to see that smile of yours, to have your eyes light up when they meet his. 

“Happy birthday, Osamu,” you said, and god your voice had never sounded sweeter. Yes, you’ve ruined him. Absolutely ruined him. Reduced him to a shadow of his former self with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile, and the worst of it all was that you didn’t even know it. You tore away all those layers of bandages, you reached out and touched something Dazai didn’t even know he had. Even as his heart bled, you would cradle it close to your chest, whisper sweet nothings that everything would be alright. Dazai found himself inclined to believe you. Perhaps the reason he seemed to be without a heart for all those years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret, was because it had been with you all along. 

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it means a lot- i hope you have a lovely day/night/morning/evening and remember to drink plenty of water! divider credit: (x) (x) tagging: @ringsofsaturnnnn

[sunflowerwinds]

this love [h.c] | chapter four

summary: after the events of last night, you’re living in bliss with hazel: sharing secret kisses and gentle touches. you and hazel try a few new things. when isabel catches the two of you, an unsettling realization comes into play.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: a lot of affection, blushy adorable sapphics, smut — fingering (r! receiving), discussions about homophobia, inexperienced! reader, knight! hazel is forever going to be the death of me.

word count: 6.1K

a/n: first post of the new year! i’m so incredibly sorry for the delay for this guys. life has been so insanely weird lately and i missed writing my sweet girls <3 new year’s resolution to try and post a lot more for yall. enjoy my loves ♥︎

‘this love’ masterlist

Time is sacred.

You never paid attention to time until Hazel. It either froze or went by entirely too fast when you were with her. Especially now that your relationship with her was anything but professional. Yes, of course, you were both extremely careful with how you acted towards one another when Isabel or any of the guards were around. Keeping your distance but stealing longing glances until you rounded a corner where there wasn’t a soul in sight and kissed until you couldn’t breathe.

The first week of being with her like this was indescribable. You never knew you could experience this amount of happiness within yourself. Though it took a few days for you both to become comfortable with yourselves.

The first day was on edge. You awoke that next morning to Hazel’s perfectly sculpted face pressed into your velvety pillows to match your title as royalty. As you stared at her cupid's bow, an uncomfortable amount of guilt settled within you.

What would your mother think? What would Isabel think? What would the kingdom think if they found out the princess was in fact more different than they thought. That was you were a sapphic and would not want to be wed to a prince, but instead a woman that was a knight.

You were afraid. Heart-aching, soul-crushing, overwhelmingly afraid for the future.

But the moment Hazel opened her eyes and sent you a tired smile in your direction, you felt a wave of relief flush over you.

“Morning, princess,” Hazel spoke through a stretch and a yawn.

“Morning,” you reply shyly as you brushed your tousled hair out of your face.

“Are you okay?” Hazel hesitantly raised a hand to caress your puffy cheeks from your well-rested slumber.

You can’t help but lean your cheek into her warm yet slightly calloused palm.

“Yeah. I’m just thinking.” You respond truthfully to her question.

Hazel caressed the apple of your cheeks, watching as the beam from the windows highlighted the back of your head to reveal your frizzy hairs. A bright angelic halo of sorts.

“About last night?”

You nod as it was true but there was so much more. Your half-truths were weighing on your chest uncomfortably.

“What happens now?” You question as you’ve never experienced anything of the sort.

Hazel shakes her head as she continues to caress the side of your cheek.

“Let’s just stay in the moment. It’s gentle here with you, princess.” Hazel whispers with nothing but kindness in her voice.

You simply smile tiredly and inch yourself more into her if that was even possible. You could feel her abdomen pressing into your own through the thin material of her shirt. Your arms are close to your chest as she continues to caress your face with delicacy.

A beat passed before you heard a soft knock at your bedroom door. You sat up with a jolt at the noise, practically snapping your neck to look at Hazel who, too, had a panicked expression on her face.

“Who is it?” You call out as you run a hand over your frizzy bed hair.

“Isabel! Remember? You wanted to talk about Hazel this morning.?” Isabel’s confused and muffled voice flowed through the door.

No. You, in fact, had not remembered. You were too busy kissing and snuggling Hazel.

Hazel mouthed to you with a cocky smile on her face; “me?”

You silently shush her with a playful shove to her shoulder as you shake your head. Hazel placed a kiss on your shoulder as she chuckled quietly at your embarrassed flushed cheeks.

“Isabel, can you meet me in the dining room? I’m not… presentable at the moment.” You nervously laugh, fiddling with a loose strand on your elegant covers.

Another beat of deafening silence.

“Alright. How long will you be?” Isabel sounded extremely hesitant from behind the door.

Guilt settled in your gut. You were going to tell her eventually. Maybe. You weren't sure if it was worth the risk. Yes, Isabel had never once showed you any sort of aggression or hatred towards anything but you never knew how someone could be when you revealed that you were, in fact, a sapphic.

“Only ten minutes. I promise.” You assure her, glancing at Hazel who seemed a bit weary.

“I'll be in the dining room then,” Isabel borderline mumbles through the door.

Once you heard her footsteps recede past your bedroom and down the lengthy hallway, you let out a sigh of relief. One of your hands pressed over your rapid-beating heart to try and relax your anxious thoughts. Hazel was about to tease you about how you were going to be talking about her with Isabel but as soon as she noticed your shaking hands, it was no longer amusing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hazel’s voice whispers as she notices how hard your breathing became. Her hand gently caresses at the side of your face.

“I-I don’t know what I’m going to tell her, Hazel. She’d—“

“You don’t have to tell her anything if you don’t want to. She is not obligated to know, princess.” Hazel assured you.

You shook your head before replying; “she’s my friend. I trust her.”

“I understand. If you wish to tell her, that is okay with me but,” Hazel licked her lips as she paused her words to try and find the right ones. “Are you going to be okay with it? With any sort of reaction that could happen after you tell her; bad or good?”

Yes, for the good. No; for the bad. Your mind was flipping back and forth. You were about ninety percent certain that Isabel would be okay with you and you and Hazel’s relationship. That small percentage of the gut-wrenching possibility that she could despise you forever was holding you back from saying ‘yes’.

“I won't tell her. Yet, at least.” You said simply.

“And that’s okay.” Hazel’s gentle tone reassured your buzzing anxiety.

You nod slowly, a smile spreading onto your face. Hazel’s lips curled as well, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly.

After reluctantly getting out of the bed, though Hazel’s lips were a painful temptation, you met up with Isabel in the dining room for breakfast. Linda and Nina cooked you and Isabel eggs with slices of bread on the side with a few choices of homemade jams from the fruits growing in the garden.

Hazel had to have been in the knights quarters by now as you kissed her goodbye before making your way to lie to your only friend. Isabel had already begun spreading the blueberry jam onto the wheat bread with an excited look on her face.

“What happened in the garden?” Isabel questioned.

“Um, well,” you start as you pick at your over-easy eggs to try and remember what you and Hazel had come up with, “we kind of got into an argument about why she was upset with me. We talked it out and now we’re all good. I think we’re closer now because of it.”

Yeah, her tongue in your mouth ‘close’.

Isabel nodded along before tilting her head with furrowed brows. “What exactly did you two talk about?”

“It was nothing really. We’re okay now is all that matters.” You emphasized to the honey haired beauty.

Isabel seemed to not really believe what you were saying and you were internally panicking and hoped that she would move on. Thankfully, she just nodded and continued to eat brunch with you. She moved on to tell you that she enjoyed seeing her family so much that she was hoping to be able to leave the palace on her own to stay with them for a few more days.

“Bel, oh my god. Of course,” your eyes soften at her beaming eyes.

God, it was eating at you how you could lie to someone as incredibly sweet as she was.

“Okay,” she said through giddy laughter as she took a bite of her slice of bread, “I’ll pack clothing for the trip after breakfast. Thank you so much.”

“What did I tell you about the ‘thank you’s?” You raised your eyebrows at her, pointing at her with a fork.

“I know, I know. I just…” Isabel sighed as she looked like she was stuck on her words. Her eyes were following all across your features and it caused you to mess with your flyaway hairs subconsciously.

“What?” You let out a soft chuckle, avoiding her eyes.

“You seem brighter today.” Isabel admits with a sweet smile.

Another stab to the heart. This really wasn’t going to be easy on you, was it?

A few days followed and you grew more and more comfortable with being this intimate with the charming knight. The kisses were heavier and the touches lingered for longer.

This beautiful morning, you forced yourself to get up from the safe space of the soft bed and got ready for the day. Hazel strangely enough kept her distance from you as you got ready on your own. Isabel was still in town with her family so the palace was eerily empty; other than the knights, of course.

You brushed it off as this was probably just as new to her as it was to you. Two women being intimate like this wasn’t unheard of but it was drastically shamed upon. The thought of the two of you being exposed to the public struck an inexplicable amount of fear through you.

As you slipped on the dress, you watched her through the mirror as she stood up from the bed. You tensed up as her hands reached out to carefully tug on the ropes of the corset in the back. You sucked in a deep breath Hazel’s fingers grazed against the bare skin of your back.

“Is this okay?” Hazel’s whispers.

You simply nod, a very obvious blush on your cheeks as she ties the corset portion off to secure the fabric onto your body. Hazel traces the stitching before retracting her hands to smile at you through the mirror.

“You are beautiful, princess.” Her tone was genuine as her eyes fell to the sage green material of your corset portion of your dress.

“You are a charmer, Hazel,” you reply, trying to hide how much that lifted your spirit.

Hazel chuckled at your deflection of her compliment as she already knew how you were.

“And you are stubborn.” Hazel leaned forward to place a feather-soft kiss onto the crook of your neck.

The gesture caused the faintest of gasps to leave your lips before turning around to face her fully. You were met with her deep blue eyes staring into your own, a glint that was unrecognizable in hers.

“Would you teach me how to fight?” You change the subject, somehow suddenly remembering that she was a trained knight.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed for a moment in thought as you lean forward to scrunch up your nose in her face. Hazel copied your actions which caused you to smile adoringly at her.

“I think you could already put up a good fight so…” Hazel cleared her throat and jerked her head towards your bedroom doors. “Let’s go and test that theory, princess.”

You couldn’t believe she agreed so quickly. You had no experience whatsoever in any other kind of combat. The only thing you knew how to expertly do was disassociate when your parents scolded you.

“Wait, really? You’ll teach me?” You beamed excitedly at her words.

“Of course. Whatever my princess wants,” her tone deepened ever so slightly that caused shivers to run down your spine.

Hazel motioned towards the bedroom doors with a small smile as you hadn’t responded to her comment. All you could do was reciprocate the smile as you followed behind Hazel as she tugged open the door for you. She stood to the side with perfect posture as you walked past her, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips.

You haven’t gotten any new news on how your parents were doing or if they had even arrived in the new country yet. You didn't care as much as you should but there wasn’t an ounce of guilt within you. You haven’t enjoyed yourself in such a long time and it was all thanks to Hazel. Oh, and of course your parents' obsession with giving you away to some random prince.

“What do you want to learn first?” Hazel questions as she walks side by side with you as you make your way to the back of the palace. “There’s sword fighting, hand-to-hand, archery— well that’s considered hunting more than anything but a skill nonetheless.”

“Well, what do you think I could be good at?” You ask curiously.

Sometimes you hated how you couldn't be inside of Hazel’s mind to see what she thought of you. When she looked at you, it seemed a lot more gentle than saying your parents were too. It intrigued you more than anything.

Hazel looked over at you with a smug smile before shaking her head. Damn her private thoughts.

“What?” You press with her a confused chuckle.

“How about we start with hand to hand combat, princess, yeah?” She completely dodged your question.

You would’ve minded a lot more but the way she tilted her head when she spoke to you made your head cloud with desire. You blush and nod at her suggestion. You followed her to the training area designated for the knights just outside of their quarters, eyeing the wooden set up of the swords.

There were a few bow and arrows and targets that were carved into wooden boards. Bow and arrows were more for hunting as you were told by your mother and father.

“How do we start?” You question as you stare out at the open area of grass.

“Before we start, we have to discuss the one ground rule.” Hazel cleared her throat, turning to you with a more serious expression. “The second you feel any sort of uncomfort or fear, you tell me immediately. Do not hesitate. I mean it, princess. It’s my job to protect you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I thought the job my father gave you was to keep me in line because I’m ‘stubborn’.” You quip with a cheeky grin.

“Well, he hasn’t been wrong about that, has he?” Hazel’s eyebrows rose at you.

You remained silent as you knew she got you there. Your stubbornness was evident in this very moment.

“Now, tell me you’ll say if you don’t want to do this anymore. Even if it's mid-fight, you tell me.” Hazel’s eyes bore into your own, your face heating up from the intensity of her deep blue gaze.

You nod, biting back your cheeky attitude to show you were serious about this as well.

“No. Words, princess.” Hazel shook her head.

“Yes, I will tell you.” You suck in a deep breath as you straighten your back.

“Good.”

Was it normal to be aroused by a voice? You asked yourself as she gently yet sternly spoke to you. You felt like you were going insane by wanting to have her instruct you how to do anything and everything.

Now being early summer, beads of sweat were forming at your hairline. Your hair was already into a singular ponytail, being held back by a piece of ribbon that was the same color as your corset portion of your dress. Your everyday dress clung tightly to your body, the flowy sleeves sending a breeze to up your arms with every movement. Hazel had half of her short hair tied up, the look suiting her quite well. You were afraid you would be distracted and get accidentally punched in the face.

“Now, when in combat, a lot of the time your opponent will try to throw you off guard but it's usually some form of punch,” Hazel explained as she slowly circled you.

“Okay, how do I do that?” You turn your head to follow her body.

“Do what?” Hazel blinked.

“Throw a proper punch.” Your eyes are wide with curiosity.

Hazel stopped her circling right in front of you with a soft smile.

“Hold your fists up for me, princess. Like this.”

Hazel demonstrated what your stance should be. You imitate her position, holding your fists straight outwards. She shook her head at you before reaching forward to adjust your arms so that your elbows were bent.

“There we go.” Her voice is calm before she holds up her palms. “Now take a hit at my hand. I need to see how hard you—“

You throw your fist forward to her palm with all the strength you can muster as she is still talking to you. Hazel stops talking to wince at your blow, shaking her hand out to ease the sting that followed throughout her palm and wrist.

You gasp and cover your mouth with both of your hands, muttering out soft apologies quickly. Your own knuckles burned slightly but all you could think about was how you hurt Hazel.

Hazel then chuckled as she shook her head as well, still shaking her hand. “That was good, princess. You are a lot stronger than you look. Hit me again.”

You froze as you noticed her pale cheeks were now slightly flushed as her smile grew. You take position once again as you throw the punch again to her other open palm. Hazel was tense as she urged you to throw the punch again and again and again.

Each blow felt… like a relief. All the pent-up annoyance and anger that was towards your parents for the past 20 years were being let out at the moment.

“You know, you could’ve been a knight if not a princess,” Hazel spoke up as she was finally giving her palms a rest from your slight aggression.

Your chest was panting softly as you too needed a small break, tilting your head at Hazel. A proud smile settled on Hazel’s face which caused you to reciprocate with a tight-lipped grin.

“Really?” You shut one eye as the sun’s rays beamed onto your heated skin, slightly blinding you.

“With your strength, princess, absolutely.” Hazel leaned closer to you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

Your initial reaction was to look around for anyone but you were still within your own walls of the palace. Just you and her able to enjoy each other's touch. Once this realization settled in, you carefully placed your lips onto hers; a ghost of a kiss even. You tested the waters to see if she even wanted to kiss you when you were all sweaty and out in broad daylight.

Hazel chased yours when you tried to pull away, her hands settling on your waist. It was a careless idea. You wanted to be careless as long as you could feel her lips on you.

“What are you doing to me?” Hazel pulls away to ghost her nose over yours.

Her words were desperate, begging for you.

“Distracting my opponent.” You reply as you allow your palms to rest on hers that were on your waist. They slid up her arms to her biceps to grab onto the muscle lightly.

“You're a vixen, princess.” Hazel lets out a pained sigh before grabbing onto your waist tighter to lock her lips with yours.

The word echoed in your mind. You had only heard it a few times within the literature you read. A vixen was a fierce and sexually attractive woman. Hazel had just admitted that she had thought about you in a sexual manner.

You had merely read about arousing actions. It was rare to find intense and erotic scenes in the fiction you read but when you stumbled upon a few pages of it, you felt ashamed to be absorbing something like that. All of it was centered around a man and a woman.

“Do you want to go to the library?” You hum as you back up slowly from Hazel.

Her brows furrow at your suggestion, having not expected you to say ‘library’ of all places. Her demeanor switched as she knew the library was one of your favorite places in the palace; next to the garden and your bedroom.

“Are we done with practicing for the day?” Hazel questioned but she was taking gradual steps towards your backing away figure.

“I just want a little more… privacy, if that’s okay?”

Which had been code for ‘I want to devour you with no one around’. Hazel’s eyes eyed you up and down with only desire and admiration. Your panting chest and cheeky smile caused her to follow you without a doubt in her mind.

After all, you are her princess.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” Hazel shook her head as she pointed at you with a smile just as giddy as your own.

You didn't deny her words but instead only continued to back away until you were speed-walking towards the library’s outside doors. Hazel was hot on your feet, a smitten chuckle leaving your lips as her hands chased after your waist. You let out soft giggles at her grip as you tug one of the door handles open to reveal the shelves of dusting books.

There in the far right, away from any big windows of sorts was a red velvet couch with gold lining. You eyed it curiously, waiting patiently for your knight. Hazel shut the door behind you as she peered out the window at the open field to make sure there was no one in the surrounding areas.

Once she made sure the two of you were okay, she turned to you who was already sitting on the couch waiting for her. You were sitting upright, staring up at her with wanting eyes.

“Can I ask you something, princess?” Hazel hummed as she traced a few spines of the books.

“Uh, yes?” You were confused but tilted your head to look at her side profile.

“Have you ever read erotica before?”

The question stunned you. Your eyes darted across the shelves in a panic as you in fact had read some hot erotica before. It had completely caught you by surprise the dirty words inked on the pages of some unknown romance novel. Yes, it was between a man and woman but the feeling it had given you ached in your lower regions.

“Only a few times, yes, but not many,” you admitted shyly.

“Is it arousing for you?” Hazel asked.

What is she leading up to?

Your nose scrunches up at the memory before replying with: “Not always. I feel the man gets a majority of the pleasure in most of them.”

Hazel merely hummed and nodded as you weren't wrong. However, it was painfully obvious as the ones who had read were in fact written by men. The pages were etched with descriptions of a man's ‘throbbing shaft’ and ‘reddening tip’ that had made your body cower in disgust.

“See, that’s the problem. There aren't many novels targeted for women.” Hazel now was inching over to you. You nod in agreement, still looking up at her with curious eyes. “The men usually treat the women like they’re nothing but a pretty face and something to control.”

”I’m pretty sure that’s most men in real life as well.” You add on, shaking your head.

Hazel now stood right in front of you, reaching a hand out to cup at your jaw gently. The motion made you freeze but allowed the touch with caution. Hazel’s rough thumb grazed over your lower lip, your breath hitching at the feeling.

“Will you let me make you feel good, princess?” Hazel’s voice was barely above a whisper, eyes locking with yours. “Show you what that should feel like?”

You almost responded with, ‘You already make me feel good’, but then you realized she meant like in the erotica: sexually.

“Yes.” You muttered in a trance, tilting your jaw up in hopes she would capture your lips in a kiss.

Just as you had hoped, she leaned downward to kiss you softly, both of her hands cupping the sides of your warmed face. Your palms slid down her arms as you allowed her to use her thumb to dig into your cheeks causing your mouth to open a bit. Her tongue swiped over your bottom one hungrily. The kisses only grew heavier as Hazel was now kneeling down to where you now had to lean yourself to chase her addicting lips.

Hazel pulled away for a moment to stare at your flushed face before attaching her lips to the underside of your jaw. You jump a little in surprise but the feeling of her sucking and tugging at your skin makes goosebumps rise and a wave of arousal flow through you. Your cunt pulsed needily in a way that’s never happened before.

“Hazel,” you whimpered as your hands were sliding up into the lower part of her makeshift half-up hair-do.

“You sound prettier than I ever could imagine, princess,” she mutters on the wet spot on your jaw, excitement rushing through her veins.

This caused you to smile shyly at the compliment, cheeks warming up. Hazel pulls away from the length of your jaw to admire how beautiful you are when you’re so desperate.

“How did you plan on making me feel good, my knight?” You question with a cheeky grin, using one of your hands to trace around her hairline.

But you never failed to make her just as desperate.

“Do you trust me?” Hazel took said hand into her own grasp, raising your hand to place ever so gentle kisses on your sore knuckles.

In a dazed, lust-driven state, you nod eagerly.

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

Hazel let go of your gentle hands to guide her own to the bottom of the skirt portion of your dress. You watch the charming knight with eager eyes to see what she is going to do. Her palms were pressing into the plush of your thighs underneath the skirt, the mystery of what she was planning on doing was driving you insane.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop and I will, okay?” Hazel’s warm palms were massaging the skin sensually, leaning down to kiss at your exposed knee.

“I don’t think I’ll want you to,” you admit with a soft chuckle as she kisses just a bit higher past your knee.

Hazel too chuckled but she shook her head: “Even so, you change your mind and you let me know immediately, princess. Okay?”

You nod and mutter an ‘okay’ back. Hazel sucked in a deep breath before inching her hands up to the waistband of the undergarments of your dress. Your breathing grew rapid as she began to tug the material down your thick thighs. Hazel watched your face for any sort of discomfort but you only appeared excited for what was to come.

You lifted your feet to allow her to remove them completely. It was an arousing thought to know you were bare for her underneath the skirt of the dress. You’d only ever worn them with your day-to-day dresses as you found them restricting but didn't want to risk accidentally revealing your bottom to the palace staff.

One of her hands tossed the white cotton shorts to the side as the other was at the crevice of your hip and thigh. Your eyes fluttered as her fingers teased on the outside of your aching lips. Your mouth fell open as she gently parted your legs, a breeze brushing past your wet pussy.

“Can I touch you here?” Hazel’s hands brushed past your pubic bone, just above where you were hoping she would touch the most.

“Please,” you breathed out, adjusting yourself to where you were more towards the edge of the couch.

Hazel hummed as she carefully dragged a single finger through your folds. You were practically dripping with arousal, the noise sending shivers down your spine. Hazel muttered a curse under her breath at the feeling of how warm you were. She switched to two fingers just teasing at your cunt. The obscene sound made her feel like she was the luckiest woman to exist to be touching you like this.

Hazel did something that almost made you moan out loud. She suddenly removed that hand from underneath your dress to take her glistening fingers into her mouth. The knight didn't hold back a moan at the taste, needing more of you. The moan causes your ego to boost to the highest extent and you whine at the loss of her attention.

“I could taste you forever,” Hazel groaned before leaning forward to kiss you passionately.

You whimper against her mouth as you get a hint of your arousal on her lips. It wasn’t as good as Hazel was making it out to be but it only made you wetter at the fact that she audibly moaned at the taste of your cunt.

Hazel’s hands pushed the clothing up your legs to rest right on your upper thighs to sneak one hand underneath the skirt. That same hand made its way to your aching core to slip her middle finger into you. You gasp softly, clenching down on her hand. The feeling was foreign but you strangely couldn't get enough of it.

“Does that feel okay, princess?” Hazel questions.

You hum to confirm with a nod of your head.

“Okay. I’m going to move now and you tell me if you want me to stop,” the blue-eyed knight informs you before placing a kiss on your cheek.

You can’t really focus on speaking at the moment. Hazel’s finger begins to pump slowly in and out of your pussy, the motion sending shocks right to your aching clit. This time the moan that leaves your mouth is loud, followed by a whine that you can’t even begin to describe as other than feral.

As Hazel’s arm began to move forward and back, you were gripping onto her toned shoulders as leverage. There was slight sweat forming at the base of your neck and spine. Before you knew it, your hips were rolling down onto the finger. Hazel encouraged you with soft kisses to your cheeks and jaw.

Hazel then slipped in her ring finger next to the middle inside of your warm walls, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows were furrowed and your jaw hadn’t picked up since she first touched your hip.

“How’s my princess doing?” Hazel pecked your lips.

“Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Hazel grinned at you.

You nod, too focused on how amazing her fingers are working into you to smartly comment like you usually would. They curl against a spot inside of you that erupts the loudest moan you’ve ever made to echo inside the library’s walls. Hazel presses her lips to yours eagerly; to both quiet you and kiss you.

Your abdomen was tightening up as her pace quickened. It felt like you had to pee. Were you going to pee on her?

“Hazel, it feels tight right here.” You place a hand over your stomach, panting as you try to explain the strange feeling.

“It’s okay. I got you, princess. Let go and it’s going to feel so good. Just like I said I would make you feel,” Hazel rushed out as her free hand was now rubbing circles across your untouched clit.

You trusted her so you listened to her words and continued to enjoy the intense feeling. The sound of Hazel’s discreet moans only drew you on. You arched your back into her as your head grew fuzzy as an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushed from your lower back to the tips of your toes.

Hazel’s voice was all you could hear, pressing gentle kisses onto every piece of exposed skin. Your chest heaved up and down slowly as you rode your orgasm out. Her words were not clear yet as you were trying to process what had just happened.

“Princess, can you talk to me, please?” Hazel’s hands were sliding your undergarments up your legs for you as you were coming back down from your high.

“You— What was that?” You chuckle as you shake your head, gradually sitting yourself upright.

“A little trick we learned in knight training,” Hazel joked as she kissed your quivering thighs.

You weakly pushed her shoulder but then tugged at the fabric as a silent ‘come here’. Hazel got the hint and leaned down to take your plush lips onto hers. You slowly kissed her with gentle hands caressing at her neck.

Her hands were resting at your hips, humming in a state of bliss with you.

The door opened causing you and Hazel to remove your lips from one another quickly. You attempted to appear as casual as possible but it was no use. You heard a gasp that left from someone’s lips causing you to look up to see Isabel with eyes wide in shock.

“I’m back from… seeing my family. I’ll leave you be, princess.” Isabel tried to back out of the room but you were quick to call out for her.

She never calls you princess. You're more than just the ‘princess’ to her.

“Bel, wait, please don’t go.” You take a step forward, urgency in your voice.

Isabel held her head down and pretended to not hear you, briskly walking out of your bedroom and allowing the door to shut behind her. You looked over at Hazel in a panic, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“I have to go after her, Hazel.” You give her an apologetic look as you rush out of the room before you can even hear her response.

Isabel wasn’t down the hall as you expected but in fact, right outside the library’s door. She was nervously picking at her fingernails. Her eyes caught your own, widening at the sight of your nervous figure.

Neither of you spoke for a beat, eyes locked one another. You were frozen, afraid if you moved she would take off in a sprint to tell someone about what she saw you and Hazel were doing. The silence was deafening.

“So I guess that’s what you meant by closer,” Isabel finally spoke softly, clearing her throat as she tucked a flyaway back behind her ear.

Her words caused your brows to furrow until you looked at her to see her lips pursed into a smile.

“What?”: is all you’re able to reply with as you’re in shock.

“I always thought you had a liking towards her but definitely not that much of a liking,” Isabel joked once again.

Now, you were extremely confused. She was acting so normal about this. No snarky comments about how what you two were doing was unnatural or disgusting.

All you can do is reach forward to pull her into a hug. Isabel accepted the embrace with open arms as she allowed you to let out a soft cry against her shoulder. It’s been a while since you’ve shed genuine tears, especially around people. It was something that you had forced yourself to repress due to your fear of being seen as pathetic by your parents.

Every shout, every degrading comment, every lecture, every poke at you pricked at your tear ducts every time but you had forced yourself to hold back any sort of weakness. It would only lead to even more ridiculing.

“You don’t hate me?” You question through the sobs.

“You’re happy now. I could tell that day I left how much brighter you looked. That’s all I want for you,” Isabel pulled away to grab onto your hands lovingly, “she does make you happy, right?”

You let out a wet laugh, wiping your hot and damp cheeks with one hand.

“A scary amount.”

Isabel let out a soft laugh as well. Her face twisted into a serious expression, her face softening in a way that you’ve never seen before: fear.

“I am afraid for you two. If anyone in the palace finds out about your relationship, I can almost guarantee they will not be kind.” Isabel’s worried voice tells you and winces as she tells you something that shatters your heart: “I’m sorry to tell you this, too, but your parents are also coming home a month early. They should be here in two weeks. One of the knights that patrols the gates heard from a messenger. He informed me when I arrived back.”

You stare at Isabel not knowing what to say. You weren’t ecstatic. Why would you be? You and Hazel have barely shared a week together and now what could’ve been three months had shrunk to one.

Time is fleeting. Time is a new found enemy.

tag-list: @toritea @echo-ethe @em-la-femme @pascalrry @piperlivingdeliberately @elsblunt @bellaramseylover @princessmars @ignepatron @idkwhatimdoingherelmao @guzzlingplastic111 @akila-twt @teenagedramaqueenlisa @vster0769 @moonbyune @silentliesblog @kali-q @0jaylene0 @lovecomesfrmwithin @thewinterlunarhalo @jamespotterloveslilies @writerinloves-blog @uraesthete @spencerreidswhore187 @piapiaweee3 @liv012 @astrologybitch04 @strawberryyivy

[yns-world]

lion & lioness

title: lion & lioness

pairing: erik killmonger x fem!reader

summary: erik takes the heart-shaped herb and sees his lost lover.

word count: 1k

warnings: reader death

a/n: i’m now taking requests for killmonger so feel free to send in your requests <3

As the new king of Wakanda, it is ritual for Erik to drink the essence of the heart-shaped herb and to speak with his ancestors. But as the searing power of the herb ran through his veins, he felt himself arriving at a place other than his childhood home. 

When he opened his eyes, Erik found himself at the edge of a lake, in a forest that he recognizes. The creatures of the night sang their songs-- crickets and insects chirped, the nocturnal birds trilled, and the wind lapped at the lake water. The night was full of life under the illuminating light of the full moon. 

Erik craned his head back to take in the sight of the moon. A soft breeze blew past Erik, and a scent caressed his nose-- a familiar scent. 

A moment later, Y/N materialized a few feet in front of him, wearing a sheer gown made of white silk. 

“My King.” Y/N beckoned, with a proud smile on her face. Erik’s eyes filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. He broke the distance and pounced on her, wrapping his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. 

His tears were seeping through her translucent gown, and Y/N ached at the sight of his pain. 

Y/N pulled back just enough to see his face. When she cupped his cheeks with her hands, he noticed that they were not cold, but they held the same warmth that they always did when she was still with him. This fact only made him cry more. 

“You’ve come so far, N’Jadaka. You’ve done it.” 

It was true, their whole lives were spent fighting for this one moment-- the moment where Erik was crowned king of Wakanda; where he was revered as the true Black Panther. 

But before he was the Black Panther, they were Lion & Lioness. Hearts and souls bound as one.  

“I need you by my side.” Desperation laced Erik’s voice, his eyes pleading with her.

“As long as the moon is out, I am with you.” She momentarily took her eyes off him to gaze up at the moon, and the moon reflected in her wide eyes. 

Erik’s expression shifted from one of despair to one of bitterness.

This was injustice-- his whole life was an act of injustice-- and Erik swore to avenge each and every action done to him, starting with burning the sacred garden of the heart-shaped herb.

Y/N knew that face, she knew exactly what it meant when Erik’s eyebrows furrowed and his usual scowl deepened.

“If you burn those flowers, you cut off our connection.” 

Immediately, Erik felt a moment of pain that he would feel if he did burn those flowers-- it was scorching pain, like someone took a rod of fire and ran it through his chest before dragging it down his torso and cutting him in half. But that was only the start of the pain, what came next was indescribably worse.

After the initial wave of hell, he was left hollow. He was an empty shell of a man.

He did not remember happiness. He could not recall love. 

He couldn’t even remember the original reason for why he became king in the first place. 

In that single, simulated moment, Erik was no longer himself. He was merely a ghost. 

The feeling washed over him as quickly as it came and he was brought back to the present-- his arms around Y/N as she stared into his eyes, experiencing every emotion with him. 

Erik was silent, but he knew better than to burn those flowers. He wouldn’t dare cut off a connection like theirs.

“Secondly, your heir…” Y/N’s words trailed off and she brought a hand to her stomach. Erik’s eyes followed her hand and was stunned. He gently kneeled in front of her, and placed his hand over her stomach. He pressed a kiss on the baby bump.

He then got back up, asking how many months she had left.

“Soon.” Y/N smiled a bit wider when she saw Erik’s impatient expression. 

Before he could get another word in, Y/N gave Erik a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Good luck, N’Jadaka. Your story is only beginning.”

---

Erik’s body shot up, his chest heaving as he attempted to regulate his breathing. 

---

Months would pass since that night and there was a significant shift in Erik’s ruling. What was once a war-hungry dog, has now turned into a protector of his nation. 

But recently, something has been eating away at Erik. A gnawing feeling was twisting and churning every moment he was alone. He was restless at night and was suffering from insomnia. 

It was another night in a string of sleepless-nights, but this time he was called to the window. Erik looked up at the indigo sky, a full moon gazed back at him.

Tonight was one year since Y/N’s passing. 

Erik closed his eyes and bowed his head towards the moon. 

“Rest easy, my Queen.”

When he opened his eyes, he witnessed a shooting star race across the sky-- it flew across the moon and seemed to be inching closer and closer towards the castle.

Erik’s body acted before his brain could catch up and he bolted down to the castle entrance.

Outside the entrance sat a baby wrapped in white silk. Erik picked up the swaddled baby and recognized the texture of the cloth immediately-- it was the same cloth Y/N wore when he last saw her. 

Holding up the baby in the moonlight, Erik was able to see the striking resemblance to Y/N.

As he was admiring the baby, a name was whispered in his ear.

Leona. 

And that was what the heir to the Wakandan throne was called. 

Leona Stevens; Lion at heart; born of royal blood. 

The next day, the royal courts would rejoice at this news. The elders were not appalled by the appearance of this heir, they were rather fascinated that they have lived long enough to see this phenomenon happen in front of their very eyes. 

Kings come and go, but nothing could ever dispute Erik’s bloodright of being king since he has been gifted by the gods with an heir. 

Leona’s birth would be celebrated for the next week. She would be revered as the Snow Leopard, for her rare birth and the even rarer occurrence of having an heir blessed by Bast herself.

“Leona!” Wakanda chanted. “Daughter of King N’Jadaka and Queen Y/N; Princess Leona, the Snow Leopard!”

a/n: if you enjoyed reading, please consider reblogging and tipping, that supports me and my account more than likes :)

DON’T BE A GHOST READER!!!!! let me know your thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc in the comments!!! i love talking with y’all <3

i’m open to requests! free feel to request, just make sure to read my pinned post for request rules <3

[matchavellichor]

All My Riches for Her Smiles

Ominis Gaunt x f!pureblood!MC - NSFW/Angst - 4.7k words - ao3

Tags: Ancient Pureblood Bonding Rituals, Post-Graduation, Arranged Married, Loss of Virginity, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Post-Coital L-Bombs, "Un"requited Love

Summary: Forced into an arranged marriage for the benefit of their pureblood families, Ominis struggles to make his closest friend-turned-wife feel less like a prisoner.

For as long as she could remember, there had always been a special sort of familiarity between her and Ominis. A comfortableness that only came from some morbid form of trauma-bonding, a shared understanding of just how horrible their respective pureblood families were. 

Plights and sorrows shared under the blanket of moonlight with their feet dangling off the edge of the Astronomy tower. Laughs drenched in the smoke of shared Muggle cigars after they’d snuck off to some secluded terrace together during another ridiculous high-society event. A passive form of rebellion. They’d confide in each other about every expectation placed upon their shoulders, the weight suffocating at times.

He knew her inside out, just as she knew him. Knew her dreams and aspirations. Listened to her rave on and on about how after graduation she’d gladly leave it all behind, run off to pursue being an Auror, regardless of if she was disinherited and left without a sickle to her name. He’d just laugh and make her promise she’d take him with her. 

Even if they were just tall tales, words without real action behind them, he’d never admired anyone more than he admired her. Just how much braver she was than him, a vivid fire inside of her that hardly ever even flickered. He never had the courage to do half of the things she did. Never had nearly as much fight inside of him that she had, always falling quiet and obedient at the hands of his family.

Despite all of their years of friendship, it felt as if a complete stranger led her through the morose, darkened halls of the Gaunt Manor. A vaguely recognizable figure with lean, broad shoulders and neat, blonde hair.

Ever since the bonding ceremony, the both of them had hardly spoken a word. Exchanged less than meaningful glances, faces schooled into careful stoicism throughout the entire ordeal. There was an almost unbearable ache in his chest at just how hollow she sounded reciting her vows, that everlasting fire inside of her seemingly snuffed out. He felt he could be sick with remorse.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as soon as he closed the door to their now-shared chambers. He stood frozen near the door as he thought of a way to make any of this even remotely right. He could offer her empty platitudes, express his apologies, but he knew none of it would do any good. Nothing could change what had already been done, what the both of them had been subjected to. 

Whatever he was feeling, he knew her enough to know she was feeling indescribably worse. 

Trapped. Suffocated. Her hopes and dreams following graduation cruelly stolen from her, replaced instead by a future her parents had carved out for her. A wife, a mother. Quiet, submissive, and obedient. A mere possession for some powerful pureblood scion.

It was a role he could never envision her in. His headstrong and steadfast best friend, who’d drag him on every single one of her thrill-seeking adventures. Who’d fight acromantulas and poachers all day and still make it in time for dinner at the Great Hall.

He wanted to reach out, comfort her the way he had done for years when things with her family had gotten especially difficult, but considering the circumstances, he felt he had no right to even touch her.

Instead, he wrung his hands together and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

The first genuine words he’d spoken to her throughout the entire procession of the wedding ceremony, that had stretched for several, long days. She glanced up from where she had been staring at the carpet.

“Why are you apologizing?”

His mouth set into a rigid line. “Because I never wanted this to happen to you.”

“Well, it’s happened.” She said bitterly. “Not much use in wanting anything, is there?”

A pit of guilt carved itself into his chest. He repeated himself, regardless of the lack of good that it would do. “I’m so sorry.”

She made her way over to the ornate vanity situated on the adjacent wall and began undoing the intricate chignon her hair had been styled in for the wedding, pulling out pins and pearl-crusted hairpieces. Her voice was quiet, tired. 

“This isn’t your doing, Ominis.”

His guilt burrowed itself even deeper into his chest, sinking into his heart like the dull blade of a knife. 

She stared down at her perfectly manicured nails on the mahogany surface, such a stark contrast to the haphazard, chipped manner they were normally kept in, a byproduct of her unladylike hobbies —as her mother referred to it.

“If it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else. I never would’ve escaped this fate.” 

His mind stumbled over a million possibilities of how to rectify this, of how to make his new bride not feel like such a prisoner, not feel even more trapped than she’s felt her entire life. He felt just as trapped in his inability to correct this, bound and gagged by his own powerlessness. He took a fortifying breath. 

“I’ll make this work. I’ll find a way to send you to Auror training and– and we can—”

“We both know that’s not happening.” She interrupted. “My job is to be nothing more than arm candy at high-society events and produce your next heirs.”

His heart ached at just how easily she seemed to have given up. Her fate sealed. He was willing to do anything to make her happy, but deep down he knew the only way to do so would be the dissolution of their marriage, something that was out of his hands. He couldn’t give her the freedom she craved.

Some selfish part of him hoped that one day she’d learn to accept his devotion. That she could learn to love him the same way he loved her. He knew it was a sick thing to wish for out of something born of coercion, but he was desperate for it.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make this as easy as possible for you. I swear it. Anything — whatever you desire, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

The corners of her lips twitched, pulled into a rueful smile, her fingers twisting the Gaunt heirloom ring around her finger. “Not everything can be fixed with money. Some things are simply out of your control, Ominis.”

Deep down he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to be acquiesced with riches and luxuries, even if he was more than willing to give her every last sickle. What he didn’t tell her was that he was prepared to give himself to her just as wholly, devote mind, body, and soul to making her happy. It wouldn’t change anything.

He felt just as hopeless as she did. 

Forced to witness the woman he loved become a prisoner in his own home, knowing he was the very lock and key that restrained her. He couldn’t bear the thought of one day being the object of her resentment. Of her slowly growing to despise him.

She broke him out of his dismal worrying by rising from her seat and walking over to where he was still planted near the door, turning her back to him. “Will you help me with my dress?” 

“Oh,” He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His fingers reached out to feel for the laces of her corset, running tentatively down the length of her spine. He pulled softly at the ties and they unraveled easily in his hands, one-by-one, trailing down her back. 

He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, and took a sharp inhale when she finally stepped away after the last of the laces had been undone. He heard the ruffling of fabric as she divested herself of her gown and suddenly he was acutely aware of the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

They both knew what they were expected to do now. What they had to do to finalize the bonding ritual, a consummation of their eternal union. Neither spoke a word. 

She moved silently to the lush, king-sized bed poised in the center of the room, decked in creamy jacquard linens and comforters. He followed just as quietly and sat beside her, hands clasped nervously in his lap.

Of all the times he’d fantasized about a moment like this with her, this one was a horribly twisted act of fate. A morbid joke being played on him by some higher power with an awfully sick sense of humor. He felt nauseous at the thought of what he’d have to do to her, what she’d probably resent him for. 

He flinched when he felt her reach over to squeeze his hand in his lap, her fingers warm over his. Her tone was sympathetic, reassuring. “It’s alright.”

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the anxiety coursing through him, the unsteadiness in his voice. “I won’t kiss you.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Or touch you anywhere, or–”

She breathed a huff of amusement. “I think you might have to touch me, Ominis.”

“Right, I– I just meant—”

“I know.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. He heard the sound of the comforter underneath her ruffling as she shifted to face him more comfortably. 

“Should I lie back?”

He nodded. “Please.”

She laid her head back against a mound of pillows, soft and faintly-smelling of vanilla. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the circumstances were different. 

That the bedding underneath her was just a bit scratchy and a vivid emerald green. That they weren’t in the Manor, but tucked away behind the curtains of her old four-poster at Hogwarts, like the world outside didn’t exist.

That this wasn’t something forced on them, but something soft and kind and tender, born of confessions of true love and not forced matrimony. 

That when she opened her eyes, Ominis wouldn’t look faintly horrified and sickly pale, but instead she’d be able to see the soft creases in his eyes that only appeared when he smiled.

She couldn’t bear to look at him as he began on the buttons of his outer robes, divesting layer by layer with a practiced slowness. When he was stripped down to his undershirt and briefs, he grabbed his outerrobes to rummage through the pockets in search of his wand. 

She finally picked her head up to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, er— lubrication charm.” He reddened as he said the words.

“Put your wand away, Ominis.” She sighed and took hold of his hand, urging him to drop the garment and make his way over to her. 

Her entire life had been stolen from her by her family, she refused to have them steal this from her too. Her first time wouldn’t be something cold and rigid and unfeeling, with lubrication charms and calming draughts to ease her through it. She wanted to at least have this. To at least share something pleasant, something genuine, even if his only love for her was platonic.

He let her guide him to kneel beside her on the bed, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, an oddly grounding gesture. She parted her legs slightly and he felt the skin of her bare thighs brush against his. 

“Here, just—” He gasped when she brought his hand down to make contact with her clothed center, strikingly warm under his fingertips. “You can touch me, Ominis.”

He froze, his fingers unmoving. She half-expected him to pull back. His voice was quiet, nervous. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “It’s alright.”

He swallowed hard and gently, tentatively, ran his fingers over the heat of her with feather-light touches. He had always been so careful with her, and she should have expected he’d be just as tender now.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, just like that,” She sighed in content. “A bit more, maybe.”

He noticed her voice had developed a slightly breathier quality, her breathing having grown heavy. The sound coursed through him, lighting every last one of his nerves on fire, and leaving him with the desire to coax even more soft noises out of her.

He applied a bit more pressure, his strokes becoming more focused, swirling tenderly against the little nub he could feel through the gusset of her knickers.

The softest moan escaped her parted lips and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer to her, one of his hands coming to part her thighs wider for him, the other continuing to rub tight, focused little circles. 

Her breathing hitched at the change of pace and her hand came up to brace herself on his forearm that was parting her legs, her nails digging little crescent-shaped marks into his wrist as her head fell back against the pillow. He had quickly grown achingly hard in his trousers.

Before long, he could feel wetness seeping through to his fingers, dampening her knickers and clinging the fabric to her cunt. He cursed under his breath at the sensation and resisted the urge to climb down her body to tongue at the slickness, the same way he’d fantasized about doing for the longest time.

Even though the original aim of touching her had already been accomplished, he found he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He continued to hold her thighs parted for him, to rub at her in a desperate quest to hear her come apart at his fingers, to pull more pretty noises past her lips.

He could feel her tense underneath him, her hips instinctively coming up to grind against his hand, desperate for more friction. Shamelessly, he brought his own hand to palm at the almost painful ache that had grown in his trousers, rubbing himself through the fabric while he continued to swirl his fingers around her dripping cunt.

She let out a strangled gasp and then she was pushing at his hand between her thighs, a frantic pleading. “S-stop, stop, stop, please—”

His hand shot back like he’d been burnt as soon as he heard the word. His eyes widened, guilt washing over him immediately, that maybe she hadn’t wanted it, that maybe he had hurt her. “I’m — I’m so sorry.”

She took a moment to catch her breath, panting as she tried to compose herself, having been brought so close to the edge with just his fingertips. “It’s…It’s alright.” When she sat up to look at him, his face was pale, blanched with remorse. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

She reached over to give his hand another reassuring squeeze, her voice quiet and faintly tinged with embarrassment. “I…enjoyed it.”

“Oh.” There were soft splotches of pink painting his pale skin, peeking out from the white linen of his undershirt, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed a bright red. 

She couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Right.” She watched the lines of his throat bob as he swallowed down his anxiety, wiping his hands nervously on the front of his trousers.

It was a bit too dim in the faint glow of candlelight that was bathing the room, but she glanced down to his lower body and tried to make out if maybe he’d like her to return the favor. 

“Do you need…help?”

His cock throbbed in his briefs, a sticky bead of precum bleeding a damp spot through the front. He shook his head sheepishly.

Slowly, he made his way closer to her, settling himself in between her legs. He placed his hands on either side of her on the pillow, hovering over her for a moment as he tried to compose himself as best as he could. 

Finally, he tentatively brought his hands down, skimming faintly over the chemise covering her torso, and down below it to rest at her hips. His fingers paused at the hem of her knickers, an index hooked on each side. 

“May I?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He pulled the fabric down her legs, and she felt her cheeks warm as she realized just how wet he had gotten her, a glistening string of slick painting the inside of her thighs. 

She brought her hands to the waistband of his briefs. “Would you like me to—”

“No.” He pulled her hands away immediately, mortified at how she would react if she realized just how much he wanted her. “It’s…it’s alright, I can do it myself.”

She nodded and tried to not let her curiosity get the best of her, keeping her eyes trained on his face as she heard the sound of fabric rustling as he unsheathed himself.

She gasped when she suddenly felt him pressed against her, slipping under where her nightgown had slightly ridden up, warm and throbbing against her stomach.

He closed his eyes at the feeling of her soft skin, his lips parting in a faint, shaky exhale. He noted with shame that all it would probably take was a few, pathetic ruts against her stomach and he’d be painting her skin in milky white.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, I just…need a moment.” A sticky bead of his precum dripped out to wet her skin, coursing even more mortification through him.

He took a deep breath before he reached a hand down between them to position himself at her entrance. His mouth dropped open when he felt just how wet she was, coating him so easily.

“Fuck,” He gritted under his breath, rubbing himself slowly through her folds.

She couldn’t help but tug up her chemise the rest of the way over her waist, filled with the strong desire to expose more of herself to him. Her nipples pebbled as they came in contact with the cool air of the room and she let out a breathy pant at the sensation.

His voice was strained when he finally managed to speak. “If I hurt you, tell me, please. I’ll — I’ll stop.

She nodded, and even if she felt safe with him, she couldn’t help but tense as she felt him slowly press against her entrance. She gasped at the sensation.

“I’m sorry,” He brought a hand down to stroke soothingly at her skin, his fingers splayed broad and warm over her waist, a gesture strangely grounding and comforting. “Try to relax, I know it’s difficult.” 

He was so soft-spoken, so tender with her, that she felt herself ease immediately. He pushed in a bit more, letting out a quiet groan that he tried desperately to stifle.

He paused, brows furrowed in concern. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He continued to sink into her, his thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles on the soft skin of her stomach, calming her with reassuring whispers. She felt so full already, yet she knew she’d barely taken even a quarter of him, a delicious sting around where he was stretching her out so achingly slow.

He looked almost pained when she looked up at him, his features pinched and strained, his hand fisting the pillow beside her head, the other digging into her hip. 

Tentatively, she brought a hand up to soothe him herself, smoothing her thumb over the tense lines of his brows, his lips. “It’s alright, you’re not hurting me.” She whispered. “You can give me more. Give me all of you.”

He shuddered, at the feeling of her hand caressing him, at her soft, encouraging words. He lost himself in the sensation, bringing his palm up to keep her hand pressed to his cheek, before he brought his hips down to connect with hers, sheathing himself completely inside of her. 

They both let out sharp, strangled gasps in unison. 

His head dropped down to her shoulder, overwhelmed by the feeling of her squeezing so tight around him. She brought a hand to run her nails down the nape of his neck, equally as overwhelmed by the feeling of being so full.

His voice was destroyed when he spoke. “Okay?”

She nodded fervently. 

Slowly, he eased his hips back, and just as slowly, eased them back against hers. She could feel his warm breath, panting heavy where he had his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. He nosed at her throat softly as he settled into an excruciatingly languid pace, terrified of hurting her. 

“More,” She breathed out against his ear. “Please, Ominis.”

His hand on her waist tightened at the sound of her pleading. “I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t,” She begged. “Please, I just want to feel more of  you.”

He let out a groan, his composure crumbling, and then he was bracing himself over her, hitching one of her legs up until her knee was pressed to her chest, and thrusting himself fully inside her again. 

He let out a guttural, depraved moan at how the new angle felt, his cock pushing right up against her walls. 

“Oh my gods,” She cried out, feeling him so much deeper inside her like this, her head falling back against the pillows.

He pressed his forehead against hers as he continued to rut into her just as she asked, her smaller body jolting as his thrusts became more forceful, more unrestrained, ones he couldn’t stop himself from giving her. He could feel every little whimper he tore from her, every soft pant ghosting his lips. 

He resisted the aching urge to kiss her. It would be so easy, to just tilt her chin up slightly for him, to lick into her parted lips and taste her the way he’s always wanted to taste her. To have her moan into his mouth while he continued to thrust into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her see stars.

Thankfully, she didn’t make him resist any urges.

He nearly broke down when her hands came up to thread her fingers through his hair, bringing his lips down to crash into hers. The groan he let out against her mouth was utterly starved, a sound stemming from years and years and years of longing.

Her tongue tangled with his in a frantic quest to taste him just as eagerly, leaving them both spit-sticky and kiss-bruised, a messy desperation, too hungry for any sense of decorum. He wanted to completely drown himself in her, until his lungs were filled with only the air that she allowed him, until he was filled with nothing but her.

Having her moan into his mouth, feeling her lips start to falter against his when he rutted into that sensitive little spot deep inside her that made it overwhelming for her to kiss him back properly, was enough to push him straight to the edge.

His thrusts grew sloppy, on the verge of spilling inside her. He hurriedly brought his hand down to rub focused swirls on the spot he already knew she liked, desperate to feel her cumming around his cock while he filled her.

She let out a strangled moan, her walls fluttering around him, and he could tell she was just as close as he was. Right on the precipice of it, dangling over the edge. He’d never wanted something more, and feeling her writhe underneath him, he wasn’t above begging her for it. 

“Please, please—” He brought his other hand up under her dress to rub at her nipple, kneading the little nub between his fingers while he mouthed hungrily at the soft skin under her jaw. “Let me have this. Please let me have this.”

She obliged happily, in that moment willing to give him just about anything he asked of her. 

He tore her orgasm out of her with a few final ruts of his cock inside of her, hitting up into that spot that made her whimper. She came apart around him with his name spilling from her mouth, over and over again, as if it was all she’s ever known.

“Fuck, fuck—” He groaned at the sensation of her tightening, pulling him over the edge along with her, milking him until he was painting her insides with his cum.

He had never experienced greater euphoria, feeling her tremble against him from the aftershocks while he continued to pump inside of her until he was spent. 

“Thank you.” He kissed her sweat-damp cheeks as if in worship, trailed his lips to press against her hairline in gratitude, breathless. “Fuck, you did so well. Thank you.”

Her response was a lazy hum of acknowledgement, her eyes half-lidded, limbs syrupy and loose from the way her climax destroyed her. 

He kissed her then, sensual and slow, as if he wanted to prove his devotion to her with his lips. Head buzzing with endorphins, still buried deep inside of her, he whispered against her lips what had been playing through his head on a loop the entire time he’d fucked her.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

She froze, her eyes opening, as if all of the air had just been knocked out of her lungs. He noticed the way her body immediately tensed underneath him. His stomach sank. 

“I’m so sorry. That was — I shouldn’t have said—”

“Do you mean it?”

There was a heavy pause, as if he was considering carefully how to respond. Weighing his options. Ultimately, he decided there was no use in denying how he felt for her now. He noted wryly that he had little reason to worry about ruining their friendship with his confession when they were now married. 

“I’ve meant it for years.”

Suddenly, she laughed. A delighted exhale, incredulous. His brows furrowed.

Then, she said it. Words he’d wanted to hear from her for years, words he’d fallen asleep to countless times fantasizing about coming from her mouth. She said it so easily, as if it were a simple thing to admit. “I love you, too.”

An anxious, dreaded feeling settled in his stomach. He grimaced. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t—”

“Ominis,”  She interrupted him. “I mean it.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Swear it.”

“I swear it.” Her hands cupped his face. “I love you.”

He huffed his own soft, incredulous laugh. Then, he broke into a smile.

Stupid and giddy, the kind that made her stomach do somersaults, and left her with a warm, syrupy feeling all over. The kind where little creases showed up at the corners of his eyes. 

“Say it again.” 

She repeated it happily, as if it were natural. “I love you.”

He took her face in his hands and peppered kisses all over her face, overwhelmed with every little thing he was feeling for her in the moment, filled to the brim with nothing but relief and glee and satisfaction, his heart feeling like it might burst out of his chest with how full it was. He paused at her lips.

“Again.”

She laughed, amused, before she grinned and humored him anyways. “I love you.”

He kissed her again. Sweet and soft, enough to make her head spin, and she felt in that moment like she had been suddenly dragged under the warmth of a sunbeam. 

A soft, amber glow that shone itself on the dreary, dark future that she had envisioned for herself. That melted away her anxieties and replaced them with images of gentle caresses and smile lines and blonde hair threaded through her fingers. 

When he finally broke away, there was concern etched over his expression. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

“Then trust me and let me make this right.” He brushed his thumb across the line of her cheekbone, traced her features with feather-light touches. “I’ll turn this into something good, I swear it to you. Whatever it takes, just let me make you happy. Please.”

She smiled then, hopeful. A flicker in her eyes. That little spark reignited inside of her, the everlasting fire. “We’ll make this into something good together, won’t we?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, pulled her into him until she was tucked safely into his chest, enveloping her in layers and layers of adoration that he prayed she could feel in his embrace. He closed his eyes. 

“Just like we always have.” 

[vampirzina]

Hear me out. Mk1 Bi-han and Kung Lao. (separately) With Johnny cages sister! READER. IDK WHY BUT I LOVE THE CONCEPT.

✮ ┆cage’s sister!reader (w. Bi Han & Kung Lao) hcs

tw: gn pronouns (you only), sfw, mdni, hcs-blurb

notes: i’ve heard of this concept and i actually like it!! also found these dividers that i’ve been just dying to use, they’re perfect for johnny. but im excited to have the chance to give my take on it lol

masterlist

Bi Han loathed you, like your brother, as soon as he saw you. It was more of a wrong place at the wrong time—you visited just as Johnny (and Kenshi) were being confronted by Liu Kang and the Lin Kuei, and to add to his increasingly sour mood, you gasped a little too dramatically. However, his intrigue in you started when you started to challenge him yourself and wouldn’t back down. You’re quite lucky to have had Liu Kang and Kuai Liang there, because he was the type back then to do it and not think twice.

Bi Han is not as secretive and mysterious as he thinks he is around you. If you go to the Wu Shi with Johnny, sometimes you’d see him around there or the Fire Temple. Why? He thinks because if you don’t know, nobody does… Johnny stares at Bi Han back from any distance. Liu Kang can’t help but smile to himself when he sees Bi Han watches you train with others (under the guise of watching everyone). Bi Han’s cover is accidentally blown by Liu Kang, who like Kenshi, heard a little too much.

If you decide not to go with Johnny, it really doesn’t matter to Bi Han anyway. Once Bi Han is told that you visit the Wu Shi sometimes, he starts showing up, but a little later than that to avoid suspicion. Johnny notices right away and quite literally complains to anyone who would listen… Including you. That’s how Bi Han’s cover is blown. You’ve never seen a cold man so hot in the collar until that night.

ᯓ★

“I yield! Yield…”

You exhaustedly fell back onto your bosom, holding your hand up at Bi Han to shake it at him. You wince with aching arms, chest rising and falling from chase for your breath. You direct your wince up at him from your elbows as he moves to tower over you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I am not looking at you like anything.”

“You kind of are. You wear one of two faces at all times,” you eyed him as he moved until your frame was slot between his legs. “Disappointment—and more disappointment.”

“Then you do not know me well enough, [Reader],” Bi Han scoffed, brown hues narrowing a bit down at you. “I had hope otherwise from how much training you’ve received this past few weeks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard enough about you from my own brother. You should’ve told me we’re dating weeks ago,” you carelessly outed, but by the way Bi Han froze where he stood over you—metaphorically, of course—it had your face contorting into something indescribable.

The silence was scaring you.

“Hey, chill out, okay? You look so pale right now, oh man,” you swallowed thickly in the sudden awkwardness and through your sheepish laughter. “It was only a joke... Unless…”

“Shut up,” Bi Han firmly nudged your side with his foot, making you grunt. The amount of sweat on his fingertips could form icicles.

───

Bi Han hates Johnny’s strain of arrogance a little less now, until it starts to rub off on him.

Kung Lao first met you at the Wu Shi. You were visiting for the day from the city, and passed him when you were looking for your brother Johnny. He thought how awfully similar you looked to Johnny, but knowing Kung Lao, by time he gave it any thought at all he’d seen you around Johnny. You two, along with Kenshi and Raiden, were introduced formally.

The more you kept visiting, the more Kung Lao saw you more than just ‘Johnny’s Sister’. He really found you funny (if not funnier than Johnny himself), and he loved the way you fearlessly challenged your brother, even if you’d lose. There’s a running joke between the four of them that Kung Lao is going to train Johnny’s sister in more than just fighting, but most of them brush it off as a joke. To Kung Lao, it’s rooted in truth.

And because I feel like it’s not talked about enough, Kung Lao doesn’t mind the little press you receive here and there because of who you are. As the sister of a once-famous actor, the nosiness of paparazzi and the public into Johnny’s life was also somewhat commonplace. You don’t receive it anymore, assuming you’re not famous yourself, but to Kung Lao it doesn’t matter. Whenever he gets bored or curious, he looks your name up when he has the time.

Kung Lao doesn’t see it as a competition, but he does start bragging… And a lot. But because you’ve seen a lot of nice things in your life and much more impressive things than a simple farmer because of Johnny, he only tries harder to impress you. It becomes even more difficult when Johnny sees right through him and begins to cockblock his attempts to woo you. It’s rare that he ever fails, but sometimes Kung Lao tries so hard that he fails. Has anyone heard of The Wolf and the Man fairy tale?

ᯓ★

The inseparable two sat over breakfast.

“I heard [Reader]’s coming over today,” Raiden didn’t even need to look at Kung Lao as he scooped up the last of his meal into his mouth. “Johnny said.”

This is beside Raiden; so usually humble, he is very much entertained by Kung Lao’s attempts to win Johnny’s sister’s heart over and over again, even though he’s already won.

Perhaps it was Johnny’s flamboyance and nice things that convinced Kung Lao otherwise.

“And we have that milestone check today, too? Why didn’t you say something earlier? I thought we were friends,” Kung Lao couldn’t believe Raiden, but he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I hope I get Johnny, ‘cause there’s finally going to be something to laugh about when I finally get him.”

Raiden gave him a look.

It wasn’t too soon after that Kung Lao started to shuffle in place impatiently as he waited to see Johnny come around the corner—a smile rose on his lips when he finally saw him, and then you in tow. He loved to watch you skip up to give him a firm hug; he absolutely craved this.

“Good luck! Johnny keeps putting his legs on me, so beat him up for me, ‘kay?” you nod in encouragement, bright eyes looking up at him in enthusiasm.

“Of course. In fact, let’s make that a promise,” Kung Lao agreed with a knowing smile, watching you give him two thumbs up and practically jig away to the margins to stand beside Liu Kang, who motioned for the respective two.

…Safe to say, Kung Lao’s promise didn’t go as planned somehow. He can’t even believe it himself yet over Johnny’s rejoice, he watches for your reaction—even you’re shocked.

“Hey, don’t think about it too much,” Raiden couldn’t stop his laughing from impounding on his words. He extended a hand to help a pouting Kung Lao up. “Try not to brag about winning next time, you might not jinx it if you do.”

───

Kung Lao feels much better when you reassure him that he’s more than enough for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

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