#the way i consume fic is strange

[whoblewboobear]

It’s strange, I’m used to hyperfixating hard on things like HARD (beats my 2yr long beetlejuice musical obsession back with a stick) but Starbreaker- not even fantasy high itself took me over to the point of feeling like a teen about. Like I haven’t had this much fun in fandom in years. I haven’t like- interacted with people this much in fandom in years (which is still not enough but if I beat myself up about social interaction again I’ll jump off a cliff)

But there’s never been a concern of like “this obsession won’t fade for a while but it’ll lose popularity” and that’s fine and surprisingly it hasn’t. But it is different. It’s like adapting to it constantly as the thing itself changes even when there are aspects that you’d like to stay the same. Like that ‘I don’t go to this school of thought, but I’ll still take the class bc it’s interesting’ sorta thing.

And then there’s that feeling of WANTING to contribute but the thing has become such a beast that it’s like oooh I’m so out of my depths here.

Also like constantly having to look myself in the eye and be like ‘bitch you don’t have to talk or contribute to EVERYTHING’ and the sooner I accept that and accept that it is what it is, ill miss things, I won’t get enjoyment out of every aspect and every aspect isn’t for me and that that isn’t a bad thing, I’ll stop having moments of feeling weird and out of place. I have my lil corner and that’s okay

[pastryfication]

Can you do another Piastri family fic where the reader is in pain or smth and Oscar can’t be there to help her so his family does xx

PAIN, MORE PAIN

pairing: oscar piastri x reader warnings: mentions of appendicitis & reader being in terrible pain.

the apartment you share with oscar in melbourne feels impossible big and lonely. the bed feels cold and strangely empty despite the humongous amount of throw pillows you have laying around.

the loneliness is something you’ve grown used to, but the loneliness mixed with this terrible pain in your stomach is too much to bear.

it hit you suddenly, no warning signs in sight, and now you lie curled up in the middle of the soft sheets, clutching your stomach as waves of unfamiliar, sharp pain hit, relentless and terrifying.

your hand trembles as you reach for your phone. oscar is thousands of miles away, getting much needed rest before the race. you know it’s late where he is—too late to be calling. you hesitate, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. you shouldn’t bother him. shouldn’t steal away his focus—what could he do either way?

but as you curl even further into yourself, helplessness consuming you, it becomes too much, and you feel so weak. weak, helpless, and scared.

scared enough to press the call button. shame, guilt, pain, and more pain fills you as you watch your phone ring in silence.

oscar—your absolute angel of a boyfriend—picks up after a few rings, his voice groggy from sleep but instantly alert when he hears the panic in yours. “hey, love. what’s wrong?”

“i didn’t want to wake you,” you start, the guilt gnawing at you. “but something’s really wrong. my stomach . . .” you let out a involuntary whimper. “it hurts so bad, osc. i don’t know what to do.”

there’s a brief pause, and you can practically hear him sitting up in bed, a deep frown taking over his features. “how bad is it? have you taken anything? should i call a doctor?”

“i don’t know,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your side, trying to breathe through the pain. “it’s getting worse. i can barely move.”

“damn it,” oscar mutters angrily under his breath. “i wish i was there with you. but listen, i’m calling my mum. she’ll come and take you to the hospital. you need to get checked out, okay? don’t argue with me.”

you start to protest, your instinct telling you to handle things on your own. “oscar, i don’t want to bother her—”

“you’re not bothering anyone,” he cuts you off firmly. there’s no room for argument in his voice. “you’re in pain. we’re not messing around with this. i’m calling her now, and i’ll stay on the phone until she gets there. promise me you’ll let her help.”

you’re too exhausted to argue anymore, the pain blurring the edges of everything and you desperately want to cry. “okay,” you mumble, feeling a small wave of relief knowing help is on the way despite everything.

oscar keeps talking to you—for once, he’s the one doing the most talking—trying to keep you calm as he calls his mum. within minutes, she��s on her way, and oscar is back on the line, his voice soft but urgent. “she’ll be there soon, love. just hang in there.”

his words are comforting, but the pain is becoming unbearable, and by the time you hear the soft knock on the door, tears are slipping uncontrollably down your face. you barely manage to shuffle to the door, clutching your side, and open it to find nicole standing there, her face etched with worry. she takes one look at you and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, guiding you toward the couch. “you don’t look good at all. let’s get you to the hospital.”

even more tears spill over at that. it’s not just the pain, it’s the overwhelming sense of being cared for. nicole doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if it’s too much trouble. she’s just there, steady and reliable.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, hesitating to meet her eyes. “i didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

nicole shakes her head, already helping you into the car with a comforting arm around you. “don’t be ridiculous, love. you’re part of the family now. we look after each other.”

her words settle over you like a warm blanket, and you blink back more tears, grateful for the maternal gentleness she offers.

the ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and exhaustion as nicole speeds toward the emergency room. her hand reaches out to squeeze yours at every chance she gets, the worry in her eyes almost overwhelming.

when you finally arrive, nicole is by your side every step of the way, holding your hand as you’re wheeled into the exam room and after what feels like hours, the doctor finally returns with a diagnosis: appendicitis. you’ll need surgery, and soon.

oscar’s voice cracks through the phone when he hears the news. “i’m so sorry i’m not there. i feel useless.”

nicole gives your hand another reassuring squeeze. “she’s in good hands, oscar. i’ll be with her the whole time, don’t you worry.”

you try to smile, though the pain is still gnawing at your insides. “i’ll be okay. just focus on your race.”

“not a chance,” he replies, his voice softening. “i can’t concentrate when i know you’re in pain. you’re more important than any race.”

as they prep you for surgery, nicole stays by your side, never letting go of your hand.

the last thing you hear before drifting off is her voice, quiet and full of love. “i’ll stay here the entire time, sweetheart. just relax.”

when you wake up after surgery, very groggy but no longer in pain, nicole is still there, sitting by your bedside. she smiles as you blink awake, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“there you are,” she says softly. “everything went perfectly. you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

you blink away the tears that well up, overwhelmed by the care she’s shown you. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”

nicole shakes her head, her smile warm and full of love. “no need to thank me, love. we’re family. that’s what family’s for.” she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before tugging your duvet up, helping you get more comfortable in the hospital bed. “hattie is here somewhere, too. came as soon as she woke. think she wanted to buy you some snacks first.”

her words hit you in a way that feels almost foreign. the casual way in which they came out feels weird. to you, it isn’t casual. family is a concept you’ve always struggled with, never having had one that felt like this. but now, with oscar, with nicole and the rest of his family—who are buying you snacks and worrying—you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing.

as you drift back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the bed and something else—something warms from in your heart—you realize that for the first time in your life, you truly have a family—and it feels like home.

[lyvhie]

forgive me, father | lmk

priest!mark x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: it was really difficult to finally corrupt your favorite priest.

a/n: just a short one i wrote at the subway on my way to college while i try to finish other fics 😔

cw: smut, religious themes, virgin!mark 😝, unprotected sex (i always forget), pet names, read part 2 here.

mark dedicated himself to a life of righteous servitude to the will of god. it was his mission to fight against the darkness and corruption that threatened to consume his world, an obligation to save those who could not save themselves. everything he had done, every choice he made, was done in the belief that it was god's will.

yet all that came crashing down, when you arrived. the one person who could disrupt his entire mission, undoing everything he had worked for, making his service to god seem meaningless.

when you first stepped foot into the church, mark's eyes were on you, but not much thought was given beyond a passing glance. you were merely an unfamiliar face among many. yet, as the days passed, he found himself drawn by the way you looked at him.

he felt your eyes on him, and found your gaze almost stripping him of his usual composure, as if you could see through all his facades. he could sense the desire in your gaze, and it made him feel both exposed and strangely captivated.

but it was fine. mark was no stranger to the attention that came with being a young priest. people were often impressed by his dedication to his role, yet quick to comment that it was a shame for someone as attractive as him to be bound by the church.

things took a turn for the complicated when you started coming to the confession booth with your sins in tow, seeking god's forgiveness. you made it a habit to request a session in the confessional after every mass, claiming to have sinned and in need of forgiveness.

on the surface, it seemed like a normal part of his duties as a priest, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that your visits were not entirely about atonement.

mark's suspicions were confirmed when your confession took a darker turn. you claimed that the devil himself was visiting you in your dreams, taking the form of him and engaging in the most sinful and perverse acts imaginable.

mark was momentarily speechless, struck by the detailed and explicit nature of your dreams. the fact that you spoke so blatantly and without shame about your experiences left him reeling, as if there was a hint of pleasure beneath the surface of your innocent confession. though he couldn't see your face, he could detect a sense of enjoyment in your voice, making him question if you were truly seeking absolution.

he tried to keep a stoic and neutral demeanor throughout your sessions, recognizing that it was his duty as a priest to listen to your worries and absolve you of your sins. yet, deep down, he couldn't deny the effect your words were having on him. the vivid descriptions and your lack of shame stirred something within him, tempting him to let go of his priestly restraint.

mark found it increasingly difficult to maintain his focus during the mass with your glances and suggestive actions. the way you would look at him, biting your lip, wearing clothes that teetered on the edge of propriety, it all made it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on his duties as a divine messenger.

“father…” mark's ears caught the sound of your sweet and coy voice as you approached him after the end of the sacrade. "it happened again," you said, asking for the chance to confess your sins once more.

his only answer was a gentle smile as he guided you to the confessional booth. despite his best efforts to maintain composure, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and unease at the thought of what you might confess this time.

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned,” mark braced himself as he heard your familiar start, already tensing in anticipation of what was to come. “it has been a day since my last confession, and despite your absolution, god still seems to be testing me."

“i see," he said quietly, his voice a bit tighter. "and how exactly did you give into the temptation?”

your voice came through in a sigh, and despite your seemingly disappointed tone, mark could detect the deception beneath it. "our last encounter was even better than everything else we had until now," you confessed. "as usual, he climbed into my bed and lay with me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as his hands roamed my body, touching me with so much sweetness. despite my pleas to god for wisdom, i find myself unable to resist him.”

and so the confession proceeded just as he expected. you told him how the devil, disguised as him, played with all the sweet spots on your body, bringing you to ecstasy countless times to the point where you forgot your own name or at least thought about how what you were doing was wrong, making you crave for more and more. you told him about how frustrating it was for you to have to wake up and realize it was a dream and be forced to satisfy your needs by yourself.

as your words filled the confessional, mark desperately sought to distract his mind. he silently recited the entire lord's prayer, clenching his fists beneath his cassock in an attempt to control the aching erection that strained against his clothing.

mark's heart leaped in his chest as he snapped out of his thoughts, only to find you beginning to conclude your confession. "that's why, father..." you said, your tone suddenly taking a different turn. "after conversing with god, i’ve come to understand that the only way to free myself from these torments is to utterly surrender to these desires.”

“w… what do you mean by that?" confusion etched on his face, he wasn't sure where this was leading.

“i realized that my confessions are doing nothing to help me stop sinning," you sigh. "although your words of comfort ease my heart, it's not enough. what i truly need... is you, mark.”

mark's breath hitched in his throat as your words reached his ears, the way you said his name sent shivers down his spine. he wasn't fool; he understood the implications of what you were saying, and this froze him for a moment as he pondered his response.

it's not that he wasn't used to this kind of approach, but the problem is that it was completely straightforward and came from you. he would be lying if he said he didn't feel some level of attraction towards you.

mark silently thanked god that the confessional booth was separated by a wooden wall, shielding you from the sight of his flushed face. his heart pounded in his chest as he realized the effect your words and presence were having on him. it scared him how easily you could make his emotions spiral out of control, awakening desires he never thought he would feel for a congregant.

mark swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he began to speak gently. “listen,” he said, his voice composed yet filled with compassion. “while i sympathize with your situation, you must understand that i have duties as a servant of god that prevent me from indulging in acts that go against my beliefs.”

he took a moment to gather his thoughts, contemplating the difficult position he was in. "not only that," he continued. "but there are the obligations of my chastity vows. all i can offer you is my daily prayers, in the hope that god will save your soul."

after his words, an eerie silence filled the confessional booth. mark was consumed with worry, wondering if his response had been too blunt, perhaps even hurtful. maybe he inadvertently made you feel desperate with his refusal to support you in such a hard moment.

he tried to call your name in an attempt to soothe you, but before he could even process what was happening, the door to his side of the confessional booth suddenly swung open, and there you were, stepping into the cramped space. the small confines of the booth made it impossible for the both of you to maintain any distance, your bodies pressed closely together.

in the dim light, mark could make out your face, and it was evident that you were far from happy. annoyed, frustrated, or even angry — whichever it was, it was the first time he had seen such a look on your face. it was a stark contrast from the usual coy or sultry expressions you usually wore.

mark's heart skipped a beat as you spoke, your voice taking on a lower tone. "you know, i’m tired of this game," you said, locking eyes with him.

he swallowed hard, feeling his lips suddenly go dry. "what do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly.

your voice was sharp, laced with annoyance, as you spoke. "you know damn well what i’m talking about," you continued, your eyes narrowing. "every day, i come here, saying all this nonsense about the devil to share my fantasies with you, and yet here we are, with you still acting like some pure little priest instead of fucking me.”

mark's eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening and closing a few times, struggling to find the right words to respond.

when he finally found his voice, he began hesitantly, "i... i can't, you know i can't. i'm a priest, and i have—"

you cut him off, scoffing and rolling your eyes. "cut the bullshit," you said firmly. "you can't, but you want it. i see the way you look at me, father. it's the same eyes i give you, so don't even bother lying."

mark flinched slightly at your words, feeling a pang of guilt at being seen through so easily. he couldn't deny it. he knew he was having a hard time concealing his true feelings.

mark swallowed hard, his voice quivering slightly as he attempted to deny your accusation. "i do not..." he started, his words faltering. but before he could finish, you leaned even closer, your faces mere centimeters apart. he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, the scent of your perfume filling his senses.

mark couldn't help but follow your gaze as your eyes wandered down to his lips, and he felt an undeniable magnetic pull drawing his attention to your own lips. almost involuntarily, his eyes fixated on them, noticing the subtle wetness left by your sultry tongue. the small confines of the booth made it impossible to ignore the growing tension between you.

"i'll kiss you.”

mark's eyes widened in shock as you announced and, before he could protest, your lips were already on his, pressing against them with a force that left him dumbfounded. the action was so unexpected, so brazen, that he couldn't find it within himself to pull away.

and honestly, he didn't even know if he wanted to.

your gentle touch on his chin was like a command, and he found himself parting his lips to allow your tongue access. a guttural sound escaped his throat, equal parts surprise and pleasure. in a moment of weakness or perhaps surrender, he gave in to the intoxicating kiss, his tongue greedily responding to yours. the taste of your lips and the heat of your tongue sent shivers down his spine, awakening a hunger within him that he had locked away for so long.

mark's hand instinctively found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as the cramped space around you seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment. his heart pounded loudly in his chest, the rapid rhythm almost resonating in his head. a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts filled his mind — how wrong it was, how he was throwing away everything he had defended as a priest.

with effort that felt as if he was fighting against his own nature, mark managed to summon enough strength to break the kiss and pull away from you. both of you were left breathless, struggling to regain your composure as a thin line of saliva connected your mouths. his eyes were clouded with a mixture of desire and conflict, torn between duty and yearning.

"ah, finally," you sighed, a hint of satisfaction in your voice. "i’ve been waiting for this so long, you have no idea."

mark felt the words nearly escape his own lips, a silent 'me too' trapped in his throat. but he clenched his jaw, his voice sounding harsher than he meant as he responded, "don't do this again."

your frown deepened as you heard his response, your earlier enthusiasm now replaced by confusion and disappointment. "what?" you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

mark shook his head as he struggled to hold onto his convictions. "this is just... not right," he repeated, his voice filled with guilt. "that was a mistake."

"are you really going to insist on this?" you repeated, your voice gentler now, as you leaned forward to plant a few gentle pecks on his lips.

but mark's response was a feeble protest, a whispered "stop." he tried to resist, turning his head to evade your kisses, but you pursued him relentlessly, and he couldn't help but reciprocate for a brief moment before pulling back again to avoid your advances.

“stop,” he spoke more firmly this time, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he held you in place. "please," he said, his voice tinged with guilt and resolve. "let's not... just stop,” he then let out a deep sigh. “i will forget what just happened here," he continued. "so about your dreams... i'll keep praying for god to help you, and you should do the same."

you clicked your tongue, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere, your eyes narrowing as you both engaged in a silent exchange. mark felt the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders, he knew deep down that he could not give in to your desires, no matter how much he wanted to.

a sense of resignation washed over you as you recognized the firmness in mark's voice and accepted that he would not be swayed this time. you let out an annoyed huff and pushed his hands away from your shoulders.

"fine," you muttered, irritation evident in your tone. “thank you for the special session, father." with that, you briskly stepped out of the confessional, leaving him behind.

as your footsteps echoed away and the church fell into a heavy silence, mark emerged from the confessional, his legs feeling weak and shaky. he leaned against one of the wooden pews, desperate for support as he closed his eyes tightly, trying to regain his composure and calm his trembling body.

mark exhaled slowly, he knew he had barely dodged temptation, but the memory of your lips against his still lingered in his mind. with a solemn expression, he made his way to the dressing room, preparing for the long night ahead, knowing he would need to spend hours in prayer and reflection, seeking forgiveness and strength to resist to you.

he sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands, his cassock now neatly folded on top of the small coffee table. as he sat in silence, he couldn't help but acknowledge the physical evidence of his encounter with you. his pants were now uncomfortably tight, and he knew he would have to deal with it his own way when he got home.

despite the image he portrayed as a devout priest, mark was not immune to human desires and weaknesses. he had occasionally fantasized about moments like this with you too, allowing himself to acknowledge the human emotions and needs that existed within him.

but the pull of priesthood was strong, and he quickly cast away these conflicted thoughts, replacing them with fervorous prayers, seeking forgiveness for even considering any form of deviance from his sacred path.

however, this time, after finally having tasted just a little bit of you, he wasn't so sure he was strong enough to not give in to temptation, especially after finding out that your confessions were just a way to get his attention — which certainly worked.

mark's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a series of knocks on the door, causing him to raise his eyebrows in slight confusion. he tried to recall if he had any scheduled meetings or visits from believers that night, but nothing came to mind.

with a mixture of curiosity and concern, mark made his way to the door, his mind racing with thoughts about who could be seeking him at such a late hour. he hoped that no one had witnessed or heard the intimate encounter he had shared with you in the confessional, silently praying that he would not have to deal with any unwanted questions or accusations.

“father, it's me.”

mark's worries subsided a bit as he heard your voice on the other side of the door. although he wasn't necessarily eager to see you at that particular moment, it was preferable to encountering anyone else.

but soon he got tense again. you saw each other not long ago and the goodbye wasn't really one of the friendliest you've ever had, so what exactly brought you here?

he reached out to open the door and, once again, before he could even form any words, you grabbed his face and roughly pulled him against your lips, kissing him with such a hunger that left him breathless.

despite the initial shock, mark found himself responding to your kiss with equal fervor, his hands instinctively resting on your hips as you pushed him backwards onto the couch. the unexpected turn of events left him disoriented, but the growing desire coursing through his body overshadowed any rational thoughts.

mark couldn't help but let out a soft moan as you settled yourself on his lap, straddling him with your legs on either side of his body. you pulled back a little to look at him, seeing how out of breath he was made you laugh.

“looks like someone was waiting for this, hm?” you asked as you moved a hand down to caress his bulge over his clothes, making him inhale sharply at the sensation.

mark wasn't thinking about god or sin anymore, now he was just thinking with his dick, barely able to hide how happy he was that you came back as he nodded at your question, his eyes clouded with need.

mark knew that resisting you any further was like trying to swim against a strong current – a futile endeavor. his gaze, now fixed on you, silently pleaded with you to do something about the aching need that had taken hold of him. he no longer wanted to deny the burning desire that danced within him, even if regret would come later.

and you definitely understood that, his big, sparkling eyes told you everything you needed to know, and a smile appeared on your lips. you leaned in to kiss his neck, and then whisper in his ear.

“i’ll be your first, right?” your whisper sending shivers down his spine. “yes,” he said shyly, feeling his ears getting hot. seeming satisfied, you chuckled, tracing the shell of his ear with the tip of your tongue “you know, i thought about a lot of ways to make you cum.”

talking dirty to him was one of the options? because it was working already.

"but as much as i want to play with you," you continued, your hands quickly finding their way to his pants, skillfully unbuttoning them and pulling it down with his help. mark sighed in relief as his dick finally managed to breathe, standing proudly as droplets of precum ran from the tip to the base. "i also really need you so desperately and i've waited for so long, so let's do it quickly.”

mark nodded fiercely, his heart was beating so loud that he was sure you could hear it. he couldn't hold back his moan when you wrapped a hand around his hard cock and stroke it a few times. it was much more better than do it by himself, honestly.

he was holding his breath in anticipation, as he saw you popping up a little to align his cock with your pussy, gasping when he felt you tease yourself with the tip, brushing against your slick folds.

you hadn't been exaggerating when you mentioned your sense of urgency earlier. your choice of outfit for the day was a deliberate one, a thin dress without any panties beneath, specifically selected to make things convenient.

you wanted to tease him more, but your own sense of urgency only allowed you to slowly sink down, you were so wet that he slipped in easily. a guttural sound came from the back of his throat as he felt your gummy walls enveloping him in a warm embrace.

"oh, god," he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. he could swear heaven looked exactly like what he was feeling right now.

all the times he had jerked off thinking about you, about what it would be like to be in a moment like this, nothing compared to the actual feeling of being balls deep inside you.

and you were no better than him, all the wait was worth it. your face was buried on his neck as you savored the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix.

his hands tightened their grip on your hips, holding you firmly in place. his chest rose and fell with each shallow, quickened breath, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch the playful laugh that escaped your lips.

"feel that good?" you asked, a hint of mischief in your tone.

as you spoke, mark looked up to meet your gaze, his face now flush with a deep blush from embarrassment and pleasure apparent. “yes,” his voice barely a whisper. “it feels amazing. fuck, it does.”

a slightly arrogant smile took over your face as you heard his admission, it was a wonderful delight to know that you were the one making him feel this way without even having started the real thing.

"then, i'll make you feel even better," you pecked his lips before placing your hands on his shoulders and start to move.

now this was driving him crazy — more than it already was. he couldn't quite put into words, but the way he kept rubbing your inner walls, the way you occasionally clenched around him, the way his name rolled off your tongue in a sweet moan, everything was from another world.

mark wasn’t quite sure what to do other than let you take the lead, but his body moved on its own as he began thrusting his hips up to meet your movements halfway.

his moans and whimpers grew louder as he felt his climax building up, it usually wasn't this quick when he did it himself, but he couldn't hold back when he had your pussy gripping him like that.

he managed to call your name softly, “i-i’m gonna cum,” he warned, beads of sweat running down his forehead. “mhm, i know,” your voice slightly husky. “since it’s your first time, i’ll let you enjoy it until the end,” you continued, “you can cum inside me, sweetie.”

his eyes widened at your words, but he wouldn't and didn't want to protest, he wasn’t on his best judgment right now. he only wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against him tightly and burying his face on the crook of your neck, thrusting harder, faster.

he felt the familiar knot of his belly, his body tensing and his balls tightening as his thrusts became sloppier. it wasn't long before he came undone under you, painting your walls white as he bit down hard on your neck, muffling his loud moan.

mark leaned back, sinking into the plush cushion of the couch, pulling you with him. the room fell into a hushed silence, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft, uneven breaths of the both of you. mark's arms wrapped around you in a simple yet intimate embrace, holding you close against him, as if he didn't want to let go just yet. his cock softened inside you, keeping his hot seed there, prolonging your feeling of being completely full.

“what are you thinking right now?” you break the silence after a moment and mark chuckled softly at your question, his grip on you loosening slightly as he relaxed into the embrace.

he took a moment to gather his thoughts, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "i was just thinking about how i might have never experienced such a wonderful… moment if you hadn't been so insolent," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

you pulled away slightly, resting your hands on his shoulders to get a better look at him. a cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you teased, "i’m glad i could be of service. you'll never forget me now," you paused for a moment, your gaze fixed firmly on him. then, you leaned in a bit closer, your voice lowering to a sultry tone. “and, i hope you're ready for more.”

“m-more?” mark blinked a few times, his mind slowly processing the reality of what had just occurred. he was still reeling from the overwhelming pleasure of your touch and now, with his mind clearing, the reality of the situation was sinking in.

“well, i told you i thought of many ways to make you cum, didn't i?”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.

“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

[c0s-lettuce]

wonder - sergei kravinoff x reader

gender not mentioned, uses aspects from the movie but no actual spoilers

a/n: aaron taylor-johnson, what a man. i think this is the fastest i've written a fic after watching the movie/show. hope you enjoy reading! <3

word count: 1026

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of violence, minimal swearing

Sergei and his father have always had their differences. The patriarch would always prattle on about weakness and fear. It was exhausting and mostly certainly not something Sergei missed.

You were a weakness, though. Sergei was sure of this. He kept very few people in his life, and all were for good reason. You were the only exception. He ought to stay away from you, for your sake and his. But he could never bring himself to do so, no matter how hard he tried.

Initially, your relationship with Sergei was purely transactional. Your body for his, and he would be out of your hair soon after. It didn't take long for that to change. He knew he was beginning to grow attached, but he didn't care. He was sure the feeling was mutual.

You were like a balm for his soul, a remedy for the loneliness his line of work brought him. The only intimacy he had with other people was when he was driving sharp objects into the necks of his targets. His hunts were intense and chaotic, but they were something he knew well and was exceptionally good at.

Being intimate with you wasn't so different, except it was infinitely more beautiful. Sergei revelled in the way you trusted and desired him, in how you consumed each of his senses. And the way you fit against him made him wonder more than once whether the two of you were made for each other.

But there were days when he craved more than just your body. He would find himself longing for your gentle embrace and honeyed words. You offered him more affection than he deserved, more than whatever this casual arrangement called for. Yet you gave anyway, and he was all too eager to take.

He adored the feeling of your lips against his forehead and your fingers in his hair as he rested beside you, basking in the blissful state you would leave him in. He would rest his head on your chest, and your heartbeat would drown out the otherwise unbearable noises of your apartment building. And he would fall asleep in your arms.

Sergei was an enigma to you. When it came to his profession, both of you agreed that the less you knew, the better. It was strange, you thought. You were aware of his reputation. But he was so sweet with you, so vulnerable. Sometimes, it made you wonder what else he could be with you. It's then when you would stop your train of thought and join him in sleep.

He would always wake first. And as he looked upon your sleeping form, he would tell himself that now is the best time to leave. And he would at first, with no more than a lingering glance. But the glance lingered longer each time.

He immediately knew he made a mistake the day he decided to stay. There was a particular look in your eyes when you woke up and found him still next to you. Sergei couldn't quite place it. Was it relief? Amusement? Hope?

No, he wouldn't let himself think it was anything akin to love.

Either way, it was addictive. He vowed to never miss any opportunities to see it again.

But on this occasion, Sergei seeks you out after an especially gruelling hunt. He sleeps deeper and for longer than usual. A soft, high-pitched meow wakes him in the morning. He opens his eyes and sees that you're gone. The door is ajar, and your voice can be heard talking to someone on the phone. You sound irritated.

Sergei finally turns his attention to the small blob that has taken your spot in the bed. Sitting there is your cat, Suki, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Hello," he greets her, his voice rough as he readjusts to the waking world.

Suki meows again as if replying to him. Sergei cracks a small smile and props himself up on his elbow. He scoops Suki closer, and she happily snuggles up to him. He busies himself with giving her scratches and belly rubs as he waits for you.

You return to the bedroom soon enough, looking down at your phone with disdain. You sit down on the edge of the bed with your back facing Sergei, tapping away at the screen.

"Everything alright?" he asks you.

"Yeah," you say, "Just my work deciding to bother me on a Saturday morning."

"What do they want?"

"To remind me of deadlines. Don't worry, I'm very politely telling them to fuck off."

Sergei lets out a chuckle. "Alright, good."

Suki's purrs fill the silence as you finish typing your angry text message. You place your phone down with a huff and look over to see Sergei pampering your cat. The sight warms your heart.

"You know, she sits and stares at the front door for at least twenty minutes everytime you leave," you tell him.

Sergei looks up at you, amused. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think she loves you more than me," you reply.

Sergei laughs, looking back at Suki. "Is that right, киса? Do you love me?"

Again, she meows right on cue. You notice she's rather enthusiastic for a cat. Ignoring your daughter's betrayal, you lie back down beside Suki and her new dad. Your eyes fall closed, the comfort of sleep still tempting you.

"You got any plans for today?" Sergei asks after a moment.

"No," you answer, "Just hoping to relax."

He nods, but you don't see it. You also don't notice how he seems to be debating something with himself. After a few seconds, he makes up his mind.

"I'll make us breakfast then," Sergei says.

You open your eyes, surprised. He's never offered to do that before, let alone stayed long enough for you to offer it instead. When you turn to look at him, he's already getting up and heading to the door. Suki gets up after him, carelessly stepping over your stomach to follow him out of the bedroom.

As the pair disappear into the kitchen, you lie there in stunned silence, wondering what's gotten into Sergei. Though, you're definitely not complaining.

➸

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all. 

[k-martins]

Updating mine

MY TOP TEN FAVORITE JJK SHIPPS!!!!

10. SHOKOHIME

They stole Jogo and Hanami's place because I got it into my head that Jogo is like the grumpy grandfather and Hanai is the vegan aunt of the curse family! I like them. I think it's a ship with a lot of potential. I need to consume more content, but I love the fanarts!!!

9. HIGUNANA

This crack grew in me and now I'm suffering for them after the last chapter. In a kind universe, Higuruma and Nanami adopted Yuji and they live happily and happily!!! I think the two go together a lot and the fanfics are adorable! These Old Yaoi will be the death of me!!!!

8. CHOSOYUKI

They've come down a little, but man I still love them!!! Even more so now because my thirst for Choso awakened and I started reading fanfics of him being a good big brother and I fell to my knees! I still want to write more and explore his relationship with Yuji. And God, YUKI IS AMAZING!!!! THEY DESERVED TO STAY TOGETHER, AKUTAMI YOU DAMN IT!!!!

7. HIGUKUSA

A friend on twt is feeding me higukusa art and, god, this crack (not so crack, because that "I'll protect you even if I have to die for it" from kusakabe hit me hard) has taken root in my heart! I'm also obsessed with Higuruma, so I combined the useful with the pleasant!

6. INUOKKO

THEY ARE CUTE OKAY!!!! I AM OBSESSED WITH CREATING HCS FOR THEM!!! I don't consume much of their stuff, but all the fanart I've seen is cute and their participation in the itafushi fics I read is always welcome!!! It's kind of strange to read something where they're not together…

5. NOBAMAKI

MY OPINION HAS NOT CHANGED, OKAY??? NOBAMAKI IS WONDERFUL AND I WOULD KILL TO HAVE MORE OF THEM!!! But since I saw Nobara's flashback I've been wondering if Fumi wouldn't be a good ship too? Does anyone have a fanfic/fanart of him, by the way??? ANYWAY, NOBAMAKI IS STILL MY FAVORITE!!!

4. KIRAKARI

I'M IN LOVE WITH KIRARA!!!! SHE AND HAKARI ARE THE ONLY HEALTHY THINGS IN THIS MISERABLE MANGA!!!! I love imagining what their relationship is like, writing hcs slice to life minis and drawing Kirara! But I'm getting worried because I saw someone saying that Kirara could appear in the Hakari x Urame fight to help her boyfriend and I know what's going to happen and I don't want it to happen! GEGE GET THESE DIRTY CLAWS AWAY FROM MY BABIES!!!!

3. SATOSUGU

YOU RUINED BLACK AND WHITE FOR ME, YOU DEPRESSED BITCHES!!! My friend is obsessed with them and boy can I understand! These two are tragic, with a beautiful dynamic and a happy ending(?). Plus they fucked up my Christmas Eve. I hope these two bitches are causing terror in heaven!

2. ITAFUSHI!!!!

If you've known me for more than a second, you'll know that I have an average of five outbreaks a day because of these two. This whole thing about always trying to save others even if it condemns them destroys me, okay??? Fanfics and fanarts also feed me! And I'm going to convince all my friends to ship this too so I can yell at 2am at them about little details of their dynamic! AND THEY MATCH SO MUCH!!! Of course, no more than our first place!!!!

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EVERYONE X THERAPY!!!

Please let the deaths stop and this become canon

Honorable mention for _ Tojikuna (more because a twt artist is obsessed with them and that rubbed off on me) _ Hainana _ Toji x Mamagumi _ Okkofushi (Yuta was Megumi's first crush and you can't get that out of my head) _ Uraume x Sukuna (one-sided) _ Yuta x Maki

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (1)- Arms Out Like An Angel

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 1- 3.9k- Mature Rating

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

A/N- This fic will include mature themes such as smut, descriptions of internalised homophobia, drinking, mentions of unhappy marriages and more. Please consider these warnings before reading.

For clarification, Wanda and Reader are both 18 in this fic and the legal drinking age is 18. 

---

Hiding a yawn behind your hand, your face expressed your boredom as Professor Harkness rambled on about the context of the novel you were covering in class, her hands moving emphatically in the air as she tried to get her never ending point across, much to your dismay. A sigh of annoyance left you when Steve raised his hand to ask a question, your gaze burning a hole into the back of his head as the teacher started to talk about another useless point, Natasha next to you chuckling at your irritation as you leaned back in your uncomfortable seat, tilting your head to her to show her your lack of interest.

"There's only ten more minutes," she whispered, trying to reassure you as your fingers impatiently drummed against the desk, the redhead amused at the way your shoulders slumped in defeat, eyes trained on the clock at every torturous second that passed by.

"More like ten years," you muttered in annoyance as you let your gaze wander across the various heads in front of you, naturally landing on the brunette's across the class from you. It was like a strange, gravitational pull as your bored eyes searched for her, observing how Wanda smiled politely at Miss Harkness, your heart unable to stop the gentle flutter the sight of her caused. Her fingers toyed with a stray strand of her hair as she intently listened, all of her attention devoted to the woman at the front of the room whilst yours remained on her, a smile threatening to lift the edges of your lips at the way her fingers soon started to spin the rings on her fingers, something she told you confidently she didn't do. You tampered down the smile as you let your thoughts drift away from the Literature lesson you were in, letting them wander towards Wanda to help the time pass, memories of your secret times together consuming your mind.

The shrill sound of a bell knocks you out of your daydreams, your eyes flickering across the room as you move to copy everyone else in packing your books up, Natasha shaking her head playfully at you and chuckling as you frantically try to catch up.

"Come on, I want to go for a smoke," she muttered as she waited for you, your stuff haphazardly shoved into your backpack as you followed her out of the classroom, your eyes briefly meeting Wanda's as she smiled at you shyly, not trying to be too obvious as you walked past her, ignoring the way warmth and affection flooded through you at the small interaction.

"I'll meet you outside, I need to grab a book from my locker," you tell Nat who doesn't wait another second for you, walking towards the exit as you make your way through the crowded hallways, barging past one or two people who were being annoyingly slow.

Eventually, you managed to get to your assigned locker, smiling to yourself at the sight of the small note shoved through the small gaps in it, your head turning to check for people before opening the crumpled paper, recognising the delicate handwriting.

Usual spot at 7? x

Folding the note up as soon as you read it, you pushed it into your pockets before grabbing your book, an excitement bubbling inside you at the idea of meeting Wanda later, an onrush of warmth flowing through you as the enticing green fill your mind, your heart skipping a beat every time you imagine that soft and gentle smile.

You tried to push down the love that enveloped your chest when thinking of Wanda but it was inevitable, you had fallen hard for her. You had to remind yourself of how the two of you were actually 'nothing', words the brunette had repeatedly said to you but you knew that couldn't be the truth, the longing look in both your eyes, the delicate moments you shared together couldn't just mean nothing. Maybe you were just just a fool in love, you weren't sure, but all you knew was that you didn't care when you were with her, the secret moments together were enough for you at the moment.

Her laughter caught your attention across the hall, your head naturally turning, lips tugging into a smile at the sound as your eyes met her enchanting green. The room was filled with others but all you could see was her, a silent conversation passing between you as you shrugged your backpack over your arm, your body already moving towards her when the sight of a tall blonde caused you to pause in your tracks, her attention switching to Vision, one of the most popular boys who clearly had a crush on her. You turned your gaze away at the sight of them, a small crack forming in your heart at the wide and bright grin that took over her face when he kissed her cheek, a small bubble of hurt building at the pit of your stomach as you brushed past more students, making your way to the exit without looking back at her, a weight tugging on your heart.

***

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you waited nonchalantly for the brunette to turn up, your back resting against your truck that was parked behind the small store you worked at, gaze trained on the small bird that had landed on a nearby branch, it's small movements of great interest to you, your mind finding something else but the excitement of meeting Wanda to focus on. Exhaling a puff of smoke once you heard approaching footsteps, you couldn't help but smirk teasingly as you lolled your head to the side, features softening at the sight of her as she shook her head at you playfully, tutting at your actions.

"How many times do I have to tell you they're bad for you?" Her voice gentle and soft yet teasing, an infectious smile gracing her lips as she grinned up at you, leaning against your car as her fingers plucked the cigarette from your mouth.

"At least once more," you mutter as you always did, watching in amusement as she takes a brief drag of your cig before dropping it on the floor, crushing it into the ground with her shoe as her gaze expresses her disapproval of the habit before she steps closer, your arm naturally moving to rest over her shoulders. "You owe me a packet at this rate, Maximoff," you mumble playfully, looking around on the floor at the many remains of cigarettes she'd stolen from you, a soft and angelic chuckle escaping her as she leans into your body, her enchanting green focussed on the small bird from earlier.

"You should be thanking me," she teases as she tilts her head to rest on your shoulder, peering up into your eyes in that intoxicating manner, your gaze softening as you admire her natural beauty, hints of scarlet tinting her cheeks at your adoring look. "I'm saving your life," she murmurs, a hum leaving you as you turn your head away from her, not wanting to kiss her here as you knew it wasn't appropriate.

"More like killing my bank account," your tone is laced with sarcasm as you feel her hand slide into your pocket, taking the packet out of it and into hers so you couldn't use them, your head shaking at her as she thought she was being sly and sneaky.

"Mhmm, whatever," she whispers, purposely letting her accent seep into her words as she murmurs them near your ear, knowing the effect her voice had on you, a low sigh leaving you as you turn your head back to her, noticing the look in them. "Can we go to the Lake?" she asks in a hopeful voice, her green pleading you to say yes, knowing you had a massive soft spot in giving her what she wanted, one of her hands snaking under your jacket affectionately to help persuade you.

Your smile swiftly fades into a mischievous smirk at her words, knowing that most of the time when she'd ask to go to the lake it was for privacy, the serene and peaceful area completely isolated and perfect for the two of you to have some sinful moments.

"Of course," you rasp out, lowering your own voice in revenge for her earlier teasing actions, her teeth biting down on her lower lip seductively as she looks up at you, a genuine smile breaking out on her face at the enamoured look in your eyes before your gaze drifts lower to her lips, her hand slipping out of your jacket as she tilts her head up, letting her lips ghost near yours.

"Come on then, I want to watch the sunset," she whispers out, tauntingly pulling her lips away at the last moment, your body craving to press your lips to hers right now, to have her moaning into your mouth as you pushed her up against your car but you knew it wasn't the place, a small laugh leaving you at the way she enthusiastically makes her way into the passenger's seat. You shake your head whilst looking up at the sky in amazement at how wrapped around her finger you were, the sound of her pressing your horn making you laugh once more before jumping in, ready to take her to your secret spot.

***

Once the two of you arrived at the lake, you swiftly prepared your truck for the two of you to spend the rest of the evening in, the back seats being pushed down and the boot opened as you placed the blankets and pillows down, the sight before you mesmerising.

The body of water stretched a vast distance as the wind caused gentle ripples across the reflective surface, the trees surrounding the car giving you the privacy you both wanted whilst the canvas of the sky gradually grew more iridescent. The scenic view of the sunset, the symphony of colours painting the evening sky, reminded you of the woman next to you as she shuffled her way over to you on your makeshift bed, her body as close as possible to yours as you sat and watched the sun slowly descend. The vibrant colours were powerful, passionate and overwhelming, just like the emotions Wanda evoked from you but the tranquil beauty of it was reminiscent of your time with her, the two of you always sharing peaceful and soft moments just like this one.

Your comparison to her and the natural phenomenon were cut short as her hand slid across your abdomen, the delicate pressure of her hand against you drawing your gaze from the sky to her eyes that you'd argue were more alluring, the shades of green hypnotising. You noticed an expectant look in her eyes before she rested her head against your shoulder, her body cuddling closer to yours as she shared a tender embrace, your fingers reaching down to interlock with hers, letting her play with yours as she knew it was a habit of hers.

"Hm?" your tone questioning as you realised she had asked you something, the pads of her fingers tracing over the lines on your palms before moving to the back of your hand, feeling every small ridge of your knuckles and the light protrusion of your vein to keep her hands busy, the brunette always fidgeting with them.

"I asked what you were thinking about?" she whispers, keeping the tranquil atmosphere that had wrapped around the two of you, the intimacy that was brewing between you both as you relaxed against one another.

"Just how beautiful you are," you say, tone laced with charm and flattery as you offer her a playful smile, leaning your body further into hers light heartedly, your words causing her to grow shy, an accompanying blush creeping onto her face.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she huffs out, aware of the warmth in her cheeks and the heat going straight to her core at the way your eyes flicker between her shy stare and mouth, the way your pupils dilate as she subconsciously wets her lips.

"Is that so?" you murmur out, smiling at the way she moves her body to lay down in your truck, her hand fisted in your jacket as she pulls you down on top of her, peering up at you with want in her eyes, legs spreading a little to welcome your body. Bracing yourself above her, you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear softly, knee sliding between her legs and pressing against her core causing a soft moan to escape her, the sound setting your body a light, arousal clouding your mind. "Even if I tell you how enchanting your eyes are? How your lips are just so... irresistible?"

Her fingers thread through your hair as she pulls you closer to her, your lips brushing over hers, smiling against her lips at the timid expression etched on her face, the obvious blush painting her cheeks.

Before you can say anymore, she tilts her head up to kiss you, the world around you fading away as you focused on the intoxicating feels of her body pressed against yours, the way her back arches, pressing her chest further against yours, legs wrapping around your middle to pull you closer as she gasps into the kiss at the way her hips grind against your knee.

Passion is poured into the kiss as you groan into her mouth at how her fingers tighten their grip in your hair, one of your hands moving to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss as you slide your tongue into her mouth, dominating the kiss effortlessly as she gives you control. As soon as one of you part from the kiss, lips lingering open against one another, the other crashes them back together, addicted to one another as she moans into your mouth, the noise eagerly being swallowed by you as lust takes over, desire consuming you both.

"Fuck," she groans sinfully, accent adding a rasp to her words as you throb around nothing, when you bite her lower lips softly, tongue soothing over the dull pain before you steal another passionate kiss before letting your mouth trail along her jaw, encouraging her to loll her head back so you could pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

"Do you have any idea of how truly beautiful you are?" you whisper, honesty and love lacing your words as you peer up into her darkened eyes, one of your hands moving to the hem of her shirt, slowly creeping under it as your fingers drift across the soft skin of her stomach, feeling the warmth her body radiated.

Your words strike a cord in Wanda as the sheer adoration dripping from your voice, the enamoured look in your eyes is too much, the emotion on show overwhelming as love wraps around her heart, the action suffocating as her mind fights what she wants to what she must have, her thoughts tangling together. She loved the way you made her feel, she loved the way your words sent a shiver down her spine, sent warmth pooling between her thighs but she hated how it was you who made her feel this way. She couldn't feel this way, not towards you. She wanted, no, wants you to make her feel this way but she shouldn't. How could she want something like this? It wasn't right... It wasn't how things were meant to go, this wasn't her.

She let out a shaky breath in response to your low voice, your lips stilling against her throat at the way her body language shifted, concern immediately filling you as you pulled back, hand sliding out from under her shirt to not make her uncomfortable as she avoided your gaze, trying to unravel her messy thoughts. This was supposed to be casual. Nothing more.

"Hey," you coo in a delicate voice, trying to get her attention as she blinks back the few tears threatening to spill in her eyes, the sight of her causing something to stir in your gut, a saddened expression taking over your face as you attempt to comfort her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood anymore," she mumbles, wiping her eyes and moving to sit upright as you sit next to her, confused as to what you did wrong to upset her, a small pang of guilt washing through you.

"Hey," you softly coo once more, gaining her attention as her gaze meets your tender one, "You never have to apologise for wanting to stop, you don't owe me anything." Your gaze expresses how serious your words were, never wanting her to feel pressured, a small smile tugging at her lips at how caring you were, another wave of confusion crashing through her at the butterflies that swarmed her stomach when you kissed her forehead comfortingly. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you had to," you whisper, trying to hide the pain in your voice as you watched her get comfortable next to you, her head leaning on your shoulder despite as her mind screaming at her to get as far away as possible, her heart's craving for you overpowering her. "I'm sorry if I upset you," you murmur, offering your hand out in case she wanted to fiddle with it, your gaze locked on the spectacle happening around you, the sight almost meaningless as you waited for her to relax against you.

"It wasn't you, I promise," she whispers, easing the worry swarming through you, her hand naturally reaching down to interlock with yours, the comfort you provided helping her relax as she tried to push down the variety of emotions gnawing away at her, not ready to confront them. "It's just me I-" she cuts herself off with a defeated sigh, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand soothingly as you let her talk, having a small idea of what she might be referring to. "Can we talk about something else? I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles, her free hand reaching down to pull the blanket over you both as you settle on watching the sunset, your arm moving to rest over her shoulders so she could sink further into your body.

"Is it a bad time to offer you a cig?" you whisper playfully, trying to change the conversation as she had asked, a small huff leaving her as she lightly slaps your arm, a disapproving and berating look in her eyes as she looks at you, a smile taking over your lips as the anxious expression from earlier is replaced, a smile stretching across her lips when she realises what you're doing. "I'll take that as a no," you grumble, dramatically rubbing the spot she lightly tapped making her roll her eyes at your theatrical actions, "Can I at least have my packet back you stole?"

"What packet?" she innocently murmurs out as she avoids your gaze, knowing you'd see straight through her lie, the despondent feeling dissipating into joy as you tease her, your head leaning against the top of hers.

"This one," your tone is cocky as you had slipped the packet out of her pockets, her lips tugging up into a shy smile as she had been caught, a chuckle leaving you at her reaction. "So you're a thief and a liar," you say tauntingly, tossing the packet to the side so you could hold her hand again, the feeling of her fingers playing with yours making your heart flutter, warmth stirring in your chest as you glanced at her.

"I'm not a liar," she says defiantly, various shades of blazing orange and red reflecting in her mesmerising green as you smirk mischievously, knowing how to catch her out.

"I don't play with my rings when I'm bored," you mimic, purposely using a higher pitch voice as you repeat her words from another secret meeting, a giggle leaving her at your poor attempt at her voice. Her hand raises to cover her mouth at the adorable noise, her nose scrunching in the way you loved, a genuine laugh leaving her as she rolls her eyes at you once more.

"Were you staring at me in class again?" she teases back, turning around in your arms so that she is looking at you, her eyes exploring your features as she takes in your beauty, the casual smirk planted on your lips making her own lips curl up into a smile.

"I wasn't staring, I was admiring," you counter, earning another chuckle, "But that's not what we're talking about. I saw you-" Her finger places itself against your lips to silence you, her teeth on show as she grins at you, knowing you were right but not wanting to admit it.

"Why don't we sit in silence?" she teases, your eyes rolling this time as she places a soft kiss to your cheek before sitting next to you again, curling up against you as she seeks the warmth your body always provided, wanting to simply be with you.

A comfortable silence takes over you two as you watch the sky darken, no words needed to understand each other as a gentle touch was enough, the vibrant hues of red and oranges bleeding into pinks and purples before fading into deep blues and greys, the subtle transformation elegant as you savour the moment together, part of you hoping the sun would never have to set as you wanted to stay there with her forever.

Only once the two of you could see stars shining bright and the moon illuminating the sky did you decide to leave, the hours spent together thoroughly enjoyed as you reluctantly took her home, wanting your time together to never end.

Despite the late hour, the two of you were still wide awake, the empty country roads causing you to have the radio on full volume, your gaze inevitably drifting to your side at the sight of the brunette singing along to whatever song was blaring out of your speakers. Her enchanting stare caught yours as she tilted her head to the beat of the music, joy, youth and affection engraved on both of your faces as you listened to her sing, the memory slowly engraving its way into your mind as she unbuckled her seatbelt, her finger pressing the button to open your sunroof.

"Be careful, Maximoff," you shouted over the music, her body standing in your car as her body fit through the gap, your arm wrapping around her thigh to keep her steady whilst her arms stretched out the car like an angel as you sped through the tunnel, adrenaline and excitement coursing through you both as you simply enjoyed being young and carefree.

Her laughter and singing filled your ears as she sang her heart out in the empty tunnel, the sound of the engine, music and her angelic voice echoing around you as you smiled to yourself, unable to stop the love you felt.

You knew in that moment that any doubts you had about calling it off swiftly left your mind, any worries about her never wanting to call it love unimportant as the overwhelming sense of happiness that wrapped around you in that moment was worth everything.

Being with her was worth anything. 

[yaekiss]

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

꩜ Room Content: GN! Top! Bathysmal Vishap! Reader x Subby! Bottom! Neuvillette, spoilers for Genshin Archon Quest 4.2, no gendered terms for reader, reader is a bathysmal vishap, Neuvillette has a dragon form, both reader and Neuvillette have hemipenes/two cocks, cloaca fucking (Neuvillette receiving), frotting, praise (Neuvillette receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: If you don't want to read about dragon vishap smut, don't read this one LOL. I know I said "between 800-1500 words". This one just ran away from me ok shhhh. I also made up some draconic courtship lore, don't look too hard at it (but please tell me if you think it's cute thank you <3) anyways ENJOY !!! ꩜ This was written for @coingbee as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

The Hydro Sovereign has returned to their full power.

From beneath the surface, your head lifts. Judging by the excited clicks and chirps made by the rest in the community, it seems as if the others have sensed it too. 

Whilst your fellow bathysmal vishaps murmur and chatter wildly with each other about whether or not to head up to the surface, you’ve already come to a decision. Without wasting another minute, you’re already hightailing it upwards towards the surface, tracking the whereabouts of your Hydro Sovereign via the trail of draconic power traces.

Following the trail takes you all the way into Fontaine. Along the way, you’ve adamantly ensured not to take routes with higher human traffic. The very thought of even crossing paths with one sends your mind twisting with a hatred and loathing so foul. 

As your journey progressed, the ebbing and flowing stream of the trail you’ve been tracking gradually grows stronger and stronger as your distance travelled increases. Until, finally, you’re sure you’re close to the end and even closer to meeting the Hydro Sovereign when the trail stops and seems to be wholly focused and condensed into a solitary being nearby.

Your head emerges from beneath the water, breaking the still surface, sending ripples outwards. Eagerness bubbles within you as you anticipate finally meeting with the Hydro Sovereign that the bathysmal vishaps have been biding their time for, restlessly awaiting the return of their Dragon Lord. The moonlight of the evening is lovely, reflecting off the flow of the ripples.

And yet, as you crane your head to look over to where the water laps gently at the shore, to where the trail you’ve been tirelessly following should end, you feel your blood chill.

All you see is a mere human who stares out into the vast sea.

A split second is all it takes for any previous semblance of anticipation to morph into disbelief and bitterness. Surely, this can’t be! After all this time, was the undying hope in seeing the return of the Hydro Sovereign wasted on some farce? A prime example of a cruel sadistic joke the high heavens would play at your expense, just to see you inevitably crumble at the grand reveal? 

Consumed by your emotions for a moment, you can’t help but regret not having forsaken your sight as your ancestors did. For perhaps if you had followed in their footsteps, you would’ve been able to bask in the exalted presence of your Sovereign leader, albeit for the price of blissful ignorance. 

However, there is still a stubborn, restless part in your mind that wishes to understand just how you could have been so misled like this, how you had managed to be fooled into tracking the trail of a human all this time. 

In a bat of an eye, you swim and make it to the shoreline, the coarse sand crunching under your claws. The disturbance causes the human to notice you, startled by the sudden appearance of a bathysmal vishap. (Although, strangely enough, no trace of fear shows on their face, and they make no move to scurry away.)

As the tension between the two of you grows, you advance slowly towards the human, low hissing sent to them as a warning. And suddenly, they try soothing you in a tongue that’s nothing but familiar to you.

Before your mind can keep up with the fact that this mere human can communicate with your kind, your head has already instinctively lowered along with your gaze pointed down towards the ground in deference to the undeniable traces of draconic authority in their tone and voice.

And when you feel a gloved hand lightly patting under your chin, trying to usher you back up to your previous position, you're struck with the dilemma of relishing in the awe of the unmistakable power of the Hydro Sovereign thrumming beneath or scorning the fact that you've allowed a human to touch you so casually.

(Does it really matter if the human in question is technically your Dragon Lord? The uncertainty leaves a sour taste in your mouth.)

Nevertheless, with enough insistence, they manage to raise your head back up before they start up the conversation.

“Greetings. I am sure you must have many questions regarding my form-” you nod, “-Very well, I suppose an explanation of events both recent and bygone is in order.” Through this, you learn briefly about the matters that have transpired, that his name is Neuvillette, that he is the both Iudex and the Hydro Dragon.

“I expect that you would take this information back to the rest of the vishaps, and that soon I might see more of you on the surface-” his tone drops to one more stern and absolute, “-With this, should any of the human Fontanians meet any unjust or unreasonable form of harm from your kind, I shall not hesitate in enacting the appropriate judgement.” 

An understanding reached, you return back to your community as a sort of newly appointed mouthpiece. However, this proves not to be your last meeting with the Sovereign. No, far from it, really.

The sun starts to dip below the horizon as you slink languidly behind Neuvillette on a stroll together at the area outside of the Opera Epiclese. A couple melusines ride atop your back, Blathine and Veleda. You’ve come to remember their names after Neuvillette encouraged you and the melusines to get along more. (And you might have a soft spot for them after realising the fondness the Hydro Sovereign extends to them.)

The sight of the Chief Justice, along with a literal vishap essentially piggybacking two melusines might seem to be an odd sight to most. However, Fontanians have simply gotten used to this after the first few instances. 

“Ah, there goes the Iudex and the melusines, and that big ol’... weird lizard he keeps around again, for the third time this week,” you hear someone in the surroundings say.

“Huh. Good for him, I guess,” someone else says in reply.

Despite all the time you’ve spent around humans while at your Sovereign’s side, you still haven’t quite managed to readily want to take up the form of one. Hence, the reason why there was a vishap right in front of the Fountain of Lucine. 

Sometimes the Fontanians comment that you’re some sort of big guard dog for Neuvillette. (Honestly, you can’t quite find it in yourself to be opposed to being seen as a protector for someone you hold dear. Plus, it made for easier piggyback rides for the melusines and you enjoy seeing the warmth on Neuvillette’s face when he sees them having fun.)

As the sky darkens and the stars above begin to twinkle, the both of you drop the melusines off at their destinations. Soon, you’ve strolled to the coastline, the soft sound of sea water crashing against the shore blending into the ambient noise in the peaceful evening. Admiring the moonlight glistening and skating across the body of water, you break the comfortable silence first.

“I shall be travelling back to the depths tomorrow, is there any message you would like me to pass on to the bathysmal vishaps?” 

Ever since your first meeting with Neuvillette, more and more of the others have been venturing out and up to the surface with the return of the Hydro Dragon. Due to your enthusiasm in meeting with the Sovereign, the responsibilities of monthly reports and announcements now fall on your back. (Sigh, is this what you get for being the first one back up? “The early bathysmal vishap meets the Hydro Sovereign,” or something of the like?)

“Ah. Has it already been a month since the last one?” He pauses to think, before continuing, “No, I don’t have any information or messages to relay.”

Another short lull in the conversation, you note that he seems to be mulling something over as he thumbs along the handle of his cane in quiet contemplation.

“I hope I am not overstepping as I say this, however, I find myself reluctant to part with you. I find that the time that we spend together is invaluable and that I oftentimes catch myself longing for your presence whenever we are apart,” he communicates this to you, the vulnerability apparent in his words.

“Perhaps, my confession would be more sincere if I were not restricted in my human form.”

As he says this, he wades into the waters, then dives under when deep enough. There’s a change in the atmosphere surrounding you, a heavier pressure forming and coalescing as a vivid bright blue starts to glimmer from the depths.

You look out expectantly, waiting with bated breath, and before long, the mirror surface of the water begins to ripple and distort from something significant moving underneath. Its streamlined movements rocket it towards where you’re standing, and as the level of the water decreases, more of its form is revealed until ultimately, the Hydro Dragon stands before you in all of his glory.

His serpentine frame towers high above you, almost double your height, with smooth iridescent azure scales covering the top of his body and claw-tipped flippers. The colour of his scales transition gradually from blue to ivory white in areas like his underside and neck. His powerful tail relaxes in the shallows, occasionally swishing, causing little waves in the water.

Casting your gaze further up, you see the familiar sight of his glowing tendrils, extending down from the two sides of the back of his head. He cranes his head downwards in one fluid motion, closing the distance between the two of you as he levels you with piercing lavender slitted pupils.

Driven by natural instinct, you bow at the display of ancient authority.

“Raise your head, after all, have you not managed to worm your way into the space next to my heart?” You hear his voice in your mind, the edges of his words pronounced with the slightest hint of a gravelly growl in this new form.

He shifts in closer, nudging his head under yours to lift your gaze back up so that it meets his own.

“As I expected. This form truly is more freeing for myself. Now, I am able to do this,” The tendrils by his head seem to glow more intensely before he can continue. The almighty Hydro Dragon is… blushing?

“Forgive me if I am too forward, however,” there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, “Would you allow me to entwine with you?”

Neuvillette's simple question sends your mind reeling. The act of entwining is an incredibly  personal act of intimacy and often indicates the start of courtship in draconic species, one that signals everlasting devotion and commitment.

Usually, entwining is done with tails in regular vishap species. However, species with tendrils can also choose to use them instead of their tails since many believe the gesture to be more heartfelt. It is also said that the closer the frills or spines that the tendrils wrap around are to the head, the stronger the affection that the dragon has for the receiving party.

“I ask this of you not as the Hydro Dragon but rather, as Neuvillette. The one who has seen you cherish and care for the melusines, the one who has had walks under the rain with until the stars have emerged in the clear night sky.” He tilts his head down, tone serious. “That is to say, I do not wish to have your agreement only be one made out of obligation to authority.”

A beat of silence passes as your brain scrambles to process Neuvillette pouring his heart out to you, and you realise that your lack of an answer causes him to hesitate. (His tendrils droop a little and you think you see rain clouds starting to form.)

Before he can apologise or backtrack, you shift forward, headbutting him lightly to shake him out of his crestfallen state.

“Of course, Neuvillette.”

Upon hearing your answer, he instantly brightens and he goes to nuzzle his cheek against the side of your snout. 

“Do excuse me if I execute this wrongly, I’ve never done it before after all,” he comments before gingerly manipulating his glowing tendrils so that they coil around the spines closest to your head on either side. 

Up close, you can see everything so clearly, the tenderness in his gaze that he holds specifically for you. You can’t help but playfully bump your forehead against his, making him emit a content low rumble.

When he untangles and pulls back up, you swipe your tongue briefly against one of his tendrils, something akin to a quick kiss. This elicits a shiver from Neuvillette, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Apologies, ahem, it seems that my tendrils are quite the sensitive area. This full form is still somewhat new to me, and I have not had the chance to discover and understand everything about it just yet,” he squirms lightly against you.

“So how about we find out together? No time like the present, after all,” your tone is sly, charged with a salacious intent that causes Neuvillette to stiffen, tendrils glowing even more intensely than before.

Saying nothing, he swiftly manoeuvres his lithe body until he’s lying supine on his back,.  he exposes his vulnerable underbelly to you, an act so trusting that it roots you to the spot in disbelief for a brief second. Your eyes travel down until you catch sight of his cloacal opening already growing slick.

“Teach me well, beloved.”

Using his tail, he ushers you onto his larger form, where you clamber until you've positioned your slit against his. And when you grind downwards, you can feel him tremble beneath you.

“Hah… I wasn’t aware that it would feel this good,” you hear his voice shake with arousal in your mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of telepathic draconic communication, yet, it’s almost as if you can feel everything he’s feeling, like all your sensations are linked with his, increasing the pleasure bubbling up within you twofold. 

He takes the initiative this time, pushing his bottom half upwards to rut against you. It’s not long before the both of you are reduced to grinding against each other, each moving in tandem in order to maximise the pleasure. 

Suddenly, Neuvillette halts all action, causing you to freeze and check up on him.

“I’m alright. I only stopped because it seems like your hemipenes have everted.” Bashfully, he averts his gaze elsewhere, as if he had been caught seeing something he shouldn’t have. (Which is laughable considering the fact that the both of you were just writhing on the ground, tangled up in each other.)

In your haze, you hadn’t even noticed your cocks evert. Neuvillette’s are still somewhat concealed within, only the drooling tips peeking out of his entrance. 

“Yours haven’t yet, that won’t do. How else are we supposed to help you understand your new anatomy?” you shake your head, a faux forlorn tone decorating your words. “Would you allow me to penetrate you, Neuvillette?”

He nods at your suggestion and you line up one of your tips at his opening. Aided by the copious amount of slick fluid, you’re able to slowly enter him, sandwiching one of his dicks between the one you have in him and the one rubbing against his exposed head.

The new sensation has him throwing his head back, drawing out a loud throaty groan.

“D-Don’t stop, please, beloved.”

Spurred on by how wrecked he sounds, when you’ve made sure he’s comfortable, you start to rock in and out of him, shallow unhurried motions to start then transitioning to a faster pace once he starts to meet your thrusts. Slowly but surely, as Neuvillette gets increasingly worked up, his hemipenes gradually evert until they’re fully revealed.

They’re slender, each with a pale white bulbous base that then curves and morphs into a tip that’s more flared on the bottom edge, like a blunt fishing hook.

“There we go, how are you feeling, still fine?”

“Yes, but allow me to catch my breath first before we continue. Thank you for checking with me, beloved.”

When he’s ready, he experiments and frots his cocks against yours, hissing at the heat and friction as they drag along your lengths. The slick sounds do nothing to quell the rising desire within you and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

The dragon under you is faring no better as well, judging by how wound up he’s getting. His tail is flicking wildly to and fro in the water, churning up the sand as a desperate mix of growls, chirrups, and pitched calls leave him. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

“You’re nothing but beautiful, Neuvillette. Ah! I’ve grown to see the overflowing compassion you have within you,” he keens at your words and you can sense the pleasure he’s feeling melding with yours.

“How fortunate I must be to stay at your side, to call you mine, as I, yours.” And this is what does him in.

As he spills over, his tail goes to loop around yours tightly whilst his muscles lock and shake. You follow suit not long after, a sticky mess forming between the two of your bodies

A quick splash around in the water washes most of the evidence off. You rest next to where he’s curled up comfortably, the waves rhythmically lapping up against him. The atmosphere is relaxed as the both of you wind down and converse.

“I’d love to stay with you till the late morning but you have a trial scheduled and I promised to find Pahsiv first thing in the morning to catch up,” you lament.

A rumble from his chest, he’s chuckling. He tucks his head next to yours, caressing a tendril across your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you. Return safe, my beloved one.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[fqntasies]

The First Kiss - Feyd Rautha x Reader

summary: You are visiting Giedi Prime once again. As you've grown older, the pull you feel around the na-baron is stronger, deeper, even if you've never spoken on it. Does he dream of you too? Will you be able to speak of them to him, or will such dreams remain as such forever? We he be able to resist you?

disclaimer: this is a kind of follow up fic to my last feyd x reader. However, this takes place before that time frame. Read the first one here to get a better understanding of how i'm approaching my feyd stories.

words: 1,111

This was the fifth time your family's entourage had visited Giedi Prime; your betrothed's home planet. Each stay got a little more familiar. Perhaps it was the smell of the air. The caress of the blinding black sun above; brilliant and strange; a blot in the heavens. You felt enraptured in it somehow. Like a feeling you could not shake, though in part you blamed the dreams.

You had yet to speak of them with him.

Had he dreamt too? Surely, the na-baron had. You thought often that he must, if not only for the way his eyes seemed to linger on you when you shared a space, no matter how many resided in it. You felt wholly consumed by it. There was a heaviness in his actions, weighted by their directness; when his gaze would meet yours, your pulse would quicken, breaths catch in your chest.

Sometimes, even in silence, in those spaces you shared among the others of your families, you found him lingering close. Felt the heat of him at your back. The hand at his side ever so close to caressing the edge of your hip. He was possessive. Protective.

You two had shared such few words, yet you knew this about him already. Nor could you deny the way it made you feel. A magnetism. Something at the edge that was just out of reach. For now.

"My lady." You startle at the closeness of his words, earrings brushing the curve of your neck as you whip swiftly to look up at Feyd.

You had been thinking of him; lost in your own thoughts. He seemed to read it in your gaze, dark eyes flitting between yours, shadows blanketing the angles of his face. There is a palpable silence as his gaze lowers to your lips. That heat you'd come to know with him. Your mouth waters at the ghost of his kisses in your mind. A seemingly distant future in visions of your marriage.

You vaguely catch the Baron's smug rasp to your father something about spice production, but they have trailed out of the room before you catch the full statement; leading a train of servants in their wake, and the hissing of levitation technology.

When you speak it is but a breathy sound.

"My lord na-baron."

"-Feyd." He quips. low and sudden.

You swallow thickly, a flush beneath your cheeks as you meet his eyes. His given name. You hadn't used it yet, save your own thoughts, and whispers to yourself at night in the safety of your room. It seemed a sacred thing. Something intimate. Something of your yet-to-be-husband's.

The na-baron watches you intently; his body imperceptibly closer, as though seeking to envelope you in his shadow. Predator and prey. You decide to broach the subject. The feeling between you...you must know if it is something of your own mind.

"Feyd Rautha". For some reason the use of his full name from your lips makes him smile. A bizarre sight, being so rare - and this grin looked almost amused. Like he had not been expecting the addendum, humorous. You are quick to try and follow up with your request, cheeks hot.

"I must ask something rather delicate, pertaining to our betrothal."

At that he seems to sober a bit, obviously unsure about whatever it was you were to follow with.

"Do you..." You wish you could know a thing beyond just your own feelings. The twisting of your stomach at the thought he could reject you tearing your insides.

"...Do you dream?"

For a moment, there is that heavy silence again, but then you see the slow curl of his lips, just at the edges. Oh, he seems to say. Followed by a soft and knowing hum.

"Is that what this is about?"

He is coming closer now, stalking you in a few calculated steps with that same smile. Your chest heaves with your breaths as you make way backwards, but then he has an arm about your waist, and mentally you are aware of the heat of him, and the strength. You feel like you've lost some game, or been suddenly caught cheating.

That's when you taste him. His mouth has tilted upon yours, slotted against you like you were meant to be there and you moan softly. Surprised that this moment has come at all - yet wanton for it too. How many nights had you dreamed of him holding you like this? Wondering what it might be like for him to lean in and kiss you?

Feyd swallows your sigh greedily. Readily. The arm he has around you pulls you into him further, and you are pleasantly surprised by how soft his lips are, and how good he tastes. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

You angle your head opening for him further, learning as you go. He was so quietly calculated, and yet he kissed you like a man starved, uncaring of who saw or who tried to stop him. Not that any being could. You would bet everything that the na-baron would slice any fool willing to try, to shreds. You'd seen his bloodlust, and his prowess in the arena. Such a feat might even excite him, with you as his prize.

He seemed eager to hold back his need for air - kissing as deeply as he could. Slow. Then fast. As though his control would slip and he has to taste more of you. More. More. His tongue sought yours in a dance, followed by teeth tugging at your lips. You mewled softly at that, eyes so heavy. You felt almost drugged, and after a moment too long, you both parted, breaths breaking the silence.

His hands are at your hips now, holding you steady, but your faces were still just a fraction apart. You felt proud of the way Feyd's eyes looked heavy lidded, or how his lips were tinged pink. It drew your eyes in a way that had him groaning.

"Careful, princess..." The nickname has your cheeks heating again, even after being kissed senseless, and he chuckles low in his chest. The smells of spice and some kind of foreign cologne fill your senses as he nears again, this time bringing his mouth towards your ear. You close your eyes, barely able to keep them open as you angle your head slightly to the side.

"-Or I might have to make more of my dreams a reality."

The admittance, and the low tone of his voice so close has you turning your face and opening for him once more, your breaths colliding as he is quick to seek your tongue with his own.

[sukunasweetheart]

I refuse to believe Sukuna wouldn’t eat his lover’s body if they pass before him. There is no way he will let you rot away when you could be with him forever. Especially if it was by your own request. He will eat your heart raw and drink your blood like its ambrosia. Your soul will remain within him for all eternity uwu

ANON THIS IS SAUR BIG BRAINED..... THE WAY THAT THIS IS SO CORRECT 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i literally even had a fic idea similar to this 🥲🫡 i just love this concept, its so poetic and resonates so deeply with his canon character 💖

he'd carry a part of you with him forever through consuming you, the warmth of your blood spreading in his own veins as he drinks from your flesh, it tastes divine like nothing else, perhaps it's because he cherishes you so much, understands how precious you are to him, knows that this is the only chance he'll ever get to indulge in the pure, raw taste of you--

And knowing that this was something you wanted - to be consumed by him - makes sukuna's heart swell with pride, you wholly accepted him, and embraced him for all that he is. For that, he will dutifully devour you, just as you wished.

Each bite he takes, means another part of you is gone from his hands. Sukuna leaves nothing behind, even your bones are crushed up by his strong teeth before he swallows them up, too. It feels odd, to eat someone that he'd wholeheartedly loved as much as he did with you.

It's a messy, gruesome looking process. His four hands are tainted with your crimson blood, and the same has occurred around the edges of his mouth. He blinks, and your corpse has disappeared, as he's now eaten you down completely.

And yet, though he's fulfilled his desires and your request, and was fully able to enjoy the unique and delightful flavours of your body, sukuna feels strange.

He feels unsatisfied.

He had you to the last fragment, alone. So why is he still left with yearning?

Sukuna stares at his emptied, bloodied hands. Yes, empty... It's the first time he's felt empty after such a full meal.

He will never be able to touch you again, and that is almost unbearable to fathom, more than he realised. The only comfort he receives, is that your body is now within him, and he will carry you around to wherever he goes.

Doomed to forever to yearn after a taste, a person that he can never have again, sukuna picks up the bloodied kimono that he'd stripped you of from the floor, and leaves this place behind in silence.

-

This is just an afterthought, but imagine if you do actually pop up in his innate domain quite some time after, which surprises him 🤔 but then he realises that he probably ate you up with so much love that he'd unknowingly cursed you and took a part of your literal soul with him when he consumed your body--

He'd call you a sly thing, asking if you knew this would happen when you'd asked him to devour you with your dying breath. Yet he seems quite overjoyed by the fact that he can interact with you again

He would question you on why you're only showing up now, after making him grieve for so long (he wouldn't verbally say that last part 🤭) and you tell him its bc you're only a tiny fragment of yourself, it took a while for you to even develop this appearance of yours

You probably appear to him in his dreams or whenever hes just spacing out 😇

[hedwig221b]

Kinda a two part question? Do you have supernatural Stiles recs? (really craving mermaid stuff but all kinds is very loved) and have you thought of writing supernatural Stiles?

and anon asked:

Do you by chance have any creature Stiles or mermaid recommendations? Thank you so much for helping us find stories to read and for writing such wonderful stories!

First of all, thank you! Secondly, to the first anon: I do have a supernatural!Stiles fic, it's called Predators and it's one of my best fics 🖤 I do plan on writing oracle!Stiles, but otherwise, no. Maybe, in the future, I am open to the idea!

So, here are the recs (including merman!Stiles 🧜🏽‍♂️)

Predators (creature!Stiles)

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles.

And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Sui Tollech Gwanna Tach Omen by jackgyeoms (mer!Stiles)

Mermaid AU. Stiles was five when he first realised that not everybody grew a tail when they entered water.

No Oceans Left by zoemathemata (mer!Stiles)

Stiles has always been a merman. He just never knew how to tell anyone. He hasn’t shifted since his mom died.

It’s A-Boat Time! by Fae_vorite, isthatbloodonhisshirt (mer!Stiles)

He could hear the others talking outside, Scott and Isaac freaking out over something and Stiles snapping at them to shut up and help him get inside.

“Dude, how the fuck can you expect me to stay calm right now! Seriously, that’s a fucking tail!”

“We can talk about it later, just get me inside before someone fucking sees me! I don’t want to end up in a fucking aquarium!”

“Christ, you’re heavy!” Isaac grunted. “How much does this thing weigh?!”

“Shut up and walk,” Stiles snapped.

The Shells at the bottom of the Sea (mer!Stiles)

The one where Stiles is a seal merman trying to fit in with the sharks.

Mermaider by nothing_left_sacred (mer!Stiles)

“So what you’re saying is; you’re a mermaid princess.” Erica concluded.

“Yes, clearly. That is what I am saying. Thank you for putting it so concisely.” Stiles sassed, frowning at her. He wasn’t fucking Ariel; this was so far from being a Disney movie it wasn't even funny.

Or the one where a perfectly normal Beach Vacation escalates way too quickly, because this is Stiles' life.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane (fae!Stiles)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (fae!Stiles)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower.

Fuck.

Faith, Trust, And Pixie Dust by Val_Brown (fae!Stiles)

Since he was a baby he had kept it a secret. Something that he shared with his mom. But when something comes after him and attacks his pack, he has to share his secret with them. He knows they won't judge him, hello, they sprout claws, fangs and some wicked sideburns. But he changes to the size of a gerbil and has wings and pretty much farts pixies dust on everything.

Using his new alliance with Peter, Stiles charges in, pixie dust flying to rescue his pack when they are captured by renegade hunters with a strange vendetta.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold by raisesomehale (creature!Stiles)

He waits until he and Allison are the only two left in the room. “This is a joke.”

Allison says, “Have you ever known my grandpa to have a sense of humor?”

“Really?” Derek’s eyebrows are halfway up his forehead, as he gestures to the word that has been printed under Creature Type on the paper. “‘A Merman’? They’re a myth. No one has ever seen one, let alone caught one.”

Allison leans forward to skim through a few pages and draws out a photo that she sets back down on the paragraph he’d been reading. In it, a marble white ribcage crests the dark, prussian blue of a midnight ocean, the only part of the body visible besides a thrashing, predominantly red tail, curved jaggedly through the waves.

“This image was lifted from Deucalion’s personal channels,” Allison tells him. “His people are keeping the discovery all hush hush, which means they managed the photo, but probably haven’t captured the thing itself yet.” She gives Derek a significant look, “Gerard wants us to get our hands on it first.”

a dying breed that still believes by paxlux (wingfic)

He thinks, Mom, we can do this, we’ll fly.

Hot Pocket Ratio by ShippersList (incubus!Stiles)

At the threat of the alpha pack, all Derek wants is to keep his pack safe and alive. As the last resort, he tries summoning a demon to help with fighting the alpha pack. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.

Or, the story where the classic demon deal of "Will you pledge your firstborn to me?" takes some unexpected turns.

There’s A Beast In My Heart (He’ll Only Bow To You) by RayShippouUchiha (creature!Stiles)

“Stiles.” Derek fucking whimpers and if Stiles wasn’t already dying he’d kill himself for making Derek sound so hurt. Stiles just wants to protect him so much sometimes because no one else ever seems to realize that Derek is so goddamn fragile and Stiles hates them all a little bit for not being able to see that. Or In an effort to expel the Nogitsune Stiles is given the bite but it all goes horribly wrong.

A Most Unusual Hoard by churkey (dragon!Stiles)

Stiles turns into a dragon and no one can figure out what he's hoarding…

My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See by rightsidethru (demon!Stiles)

Appearances can be deceiving.

Caught by hunters, Derek immediately dismisses his gangly, fellow prisoner as a pressing concern.

After all, the amber-eyed teenager couldn't be more than one hundred and forty-seven pounds soaking wet. What type of threat could he possibly be?

(The answer: a large one.)

9/10ths of the Law by tsukinofaerii (demon!Stiles)

Stiles discovers the hazards of growing up a real boy when, at heart, he's not a real boy at all.

You Were Never Meant to Know by Mooneye (demon!Stiles)

“Not a fan of exorcisms, Stiles?” the figure asked as though he were enquiring about the rain.

“Not really. I could spew black bile if you’d like more authenticity,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott demanded, unease growing.

Stiles is a demon, always has been, and never intended for anyone to know. Unfortunately, his secret is forcefully revealed and he has nowhere to hide.

Blodrød by Onlymystory (demon!Stiles)

A demon possessing Alpha werewolves leads a crazed pack to Beacon Hills. He's been stuck inside werewolf minds, when all he wants is a nice human meatsuit. Humans in packs are rare these days and the demon is practically salivating at the thought of possessing Stiles. It's strong, and the pack was taken off guard, unable to protect Stiles before the demon takes control.

But like the demon says…humans in packs are rare.

Blackbird by skoosiepants (shapeshifter!Stiles)

Stiles groans and drops his face into his hands. “I’m seventeen, I can kind of use mountain ash and I can explode houses when I’m mad enough. How am I gonna win any kind of magic fight?”

“We’ll work on it,” Deaton says, as infuriatingly calm as ever. “The important thing to remember, Stiles, is that when everything else is chaos, you’re the port in the storm.”

Or-

Laura Hale never died, and Stiles is magic.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | bad friend Scott | magical!Stiles

[minnaci]

tartaglia x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 1.6k

You'd always heard that your first time should be special, and there's nothing more special than catching the lustful eye of the Eleventh Harbinger...

contents: soft!tartaglia, gentle sex, fingering (reader receiving), insertive sex (reader receiving), kissing, praise, a little teasing, dirty talk, semi-unrealistic first time but in the way that everything feels good and tartaglia is perfect

reader details: reader is a virgin / sexually inexperienced and is nervous about it. they have a non-specific "hole" between their legs and a non-specific "sweet spot" inside. they are described as enjoying penetrative sex.

a/n: this fic is a request from @syhly for @ficsforgaza! thank you for your donation to help a child with cerebral palsy evacuate!

Tartaglia moves with the grace of a predator. It’s the first thing you notice about him. No amount of charm or charisma could hide the danger that lurks behind his oddly flat, lightless eyes. No amount of schmoozing or seducing could make you ignore the prey’s instinct that raises that hair at the back of your neck every time you see him. 

Even when he’s brought you to his bedroom— an ostentatious, opulent place, draped with luxuries that only a Fatui Harbinger could afford to flaunt— and bared himself to you, looking for all the world like a man who might have been your neighbor— a normal man, a good man, you still cannot overlook your apprehension. 

“C’mon, baby. Let me show you a good time,” he’s saying. He pushes you gently onto the bed. No amount of expensive perfume can mask the slight coppery scent that rises from his bedding. Anxiety and desire war in your stomach. You are but a victim to the carnage. 

“Don’t you think this is all a bit… fast?” 

“Never fast enough. Not with how badly I want you,” Tartaglia says, all charm. “Don’t hide that expression from me, baby. I know you want me, too.”

And the thing is, he’s right. But could anyone blame you for being nervous? Here is this— this absolute force of a man, beautiful and terrible and irresistibly charming all at once. He’d swept you up easily enough, brought you into the eye of his storm. Bearing the full brunt of his attention is like holding up the sky— all-consuming, overwhelming weight. 

He crawls over you with the air of a man who is intimately familiar with having pretty things warming his bed. It should soothe you to be with someone who is so obviously experienced, but all it does is make you more nervous.

“Tartaglia.” There’s an anxious edge to the way your lips shape around his name.

“Yeah, baby?” He presses a hot, wet kiss to your neck in a way that lets you know that he is maximally occupied with the swath of skin under his lips and minimally paying attention to the words you’re saying. 

“Will it hurt?” You don’t want it to hurt. Your throat closes, and you push at his chest. His lips detach from your skin with a lewd pop. “Tartaglia. Can you be gentle with me?”

He stares at you for a long moment, expression unreadable. When he speaks again, something about his voice is different. Gone is the saccharine lilt to his words. It feels… more real, somehow. “Fuck, I can’t do this,” he says, sitting back on his knees and rubbing a hand over his face. Your heart sinks. You’d expected as much. He could have anyone, and here you are, setting a boundary that so strongly deviated from his preferences—

“Call me Ajax, then.” Even he looks a bit surprised at his request. You get the feeling that, normally, this is where the night would’ve ended. He would have pulled you from the bed, all roguish charm and seductive swagger, citing some Harbinger emergency before kicking you summarily to the streets. Yet, for some reason… still you sit, trembling in his bed, vulnerable under his strangely soft gaze.

“Ajax?” 

“You don’t want Tartaglia,” he says. He dips down, brushes a gentle kiss to your lips. “So call me Ajax, and I’ll be gentle. You’ll only feel good tonight, I promise.” 

True to his word, he undresses you tenderly, like a real lover would. Every caress of his hands over your skin is followed by soft, chaste kisses. Your shirt slips open, your pants shimmy off. The chill of the air nips your skin in a delicious contrast to the slow heat that kindles under your skin. 

“Pretty,” Ajax murmurs, trailing a calloused hand down your chest and slipping his fingers between your legs. Driven by some soft, wanting instinct, your thighs fall apart, giving him full access to your aching sex. “So pretty. Look at you.”

“Ajax,” you say, feeling empty and achy and so, so needy. “Please, don’t tease.”

“Me? Tease? I’d never.” He shoots you a little smirk and swallows your little whine with a kiss. His fingers tease at your entrance once, twice, then press inside. “How does it feel?”

 It’s… strange, and you tell him so. It feels better than your own clumsy explorations, at the very least.

“Mmm, we can do better than ‘strange’. Where’s that sweet little spot inside of you?” He says. One finger turns to two, and he strokes against your wall until his fingertips rub over something— something good.

“Ah!” A sudden frisson of pleasure jolts up your spine. Ajax’s grin widens.

“There we go, baby.”

“What is—?”

“That’s your sweet spot,” he says, stroking it a bit more firmly as if trying to turn your every coherent thought to mush. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Your breath catches as he begins to stretch you open, occasionally giving your sweet spot a delicious little rub, as if to remind you of the pleasure to come. You’re not sure how long you stay like that— pliant, soft, at the mercy of Ajax’s talented fingers, but by the time he’s wiggled a third finger inside of you, every thrust of his fingers is accompanied by a lewd, wet squelch that makes your face feel hot. 

“Opening up so sweet,” he says, pulling his fingers out and licking at the traces of your arousal. “I think you’re ready, if you want me to fuck you. Otherwise, I can make you cum just like this.” 

“Please,” you beg, “please, I want more.”

“Are you sure?” His concern is sweet, but…

“If you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I’ll go out and find someone else who will.” You don’t know where your sudden bravado comes from, but it makes a slow grin creep over Ajax’s face. A hint of Tartaglia’s sly, seductive charm comes peeking in through the flash of sharp canines. 

“Oh, poor baby,” he says. “Got you all worked up, didn’t I?” 

“Mhm,” you nod. Your hole pulses, as if in complaint. “You said you’d make me feel good.” 

“And I will,” he dips down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. He makes himself at home in the cradle of your hips and lines up the head of his leaking cock against your entrance. It strikes you then, just how beautiful he is— chiseled like the heroes of ancient Teyvatian legend, handsome like the gods themselves. His cock is equally pretty, as far as cocks can be pretty. The tip drools against your hole, fluids mixing with your own wetness. “Relax, baby.”

Cock feels so much better than fingers. That’s the first thought that hits you. Then, he thrusts just a bit deeper, and every other coherent thought escapes you in a rush of wetness from between your thighs. 

“Fuck!” Your head falls back against the pillow, and your eyes roll back into your head as he carves out a space inside of you. Your hole flutters and clenches around him uncontrollably as your body attempts to make sense of the thick, heavy heat that fills you so deep. “A— Ajax!” 

“Mmm, I know, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he chuckles, sounding a bit out of breath. “Your hole loves it. I can tell. It’s hugging me so sweet.” 

He angles his hips, and the tip of his cock nudges that— that ‘sweet spot’ inside of you. Pleasure burns a hole through you, diffusing through your tummy and up into your chest. “Ajax— Ajax, ‘s good, I think I’m— something’s coming—!”

“Gonna cum for me? Yeah? Let me see it, baby. Let yourself feel good.” His lips press against yours, swallowing up your shivery little whines, and his broad cockhead kisses your sweet spot more firmly, and you’re gone. Something in your core snaps as your pleasure crests, and you nearly sob as he fucks you deeply through your orgasm. 

Distantly, you feel a wet sort of heat spreading over your soft inner walls. He came inside of you, and… it’s… nice, you think. So nice. That thick, creamy dribble of his cum seeping into your deepest, most intimate places… You float in the afterglow, a dumb, blissed-out smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Finally, Ajax collapses against you. He’s heavy, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, but something about the press of skin to bare, flushed skin grounds you back in your body— a welcome reassurance after that transcendent pleasure.

“This isn’t really my bedroom,” Ajax says into the space between your neck and shoulder. His breath curls over the hollow of your throat. It’s so unexpected, so tender, so— so unlike a feared Harbinger— that you shake yourself out of your pleasant post-coital daze to stare at him. Under the dim lights, he looks impossibly soft, all gentle curves and scattered freckles— nothing like the battle-crazed, bloodthirsty monster that the local legends make him out to be. “I actually kinda hate this place.” 

“Why do you stay, then?” You card a hand through his hair, liking the way the strands feel between your fingers.

“If I told you I had to, would you believe me?”

“I’d believe Ajax,” you say, curling into him. You feel his smile against your collarbone.

“You’d be the only one who does.”

And maybe, one day, you could be the only one who matters.

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Prologue

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Cheers to the new longer fic series starring Toby! Hope you enjoy this brief little intro to get a taste of what's to come~

Commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Divider by @plum98

Work.

That’s what Toby’s life revolves around. Day in, day out. He doesn’t have hobbies, doesn’t have friends to hang out with—and he certainly doesn’t have a family to go back home to, either. He has work.

It consumes him.

He’s thankful for it, though. It’s pathetic to say, but at least he has something. At least he’s still good for one thing. At least he’s not completely fucking useless.

So it doesn’t bother him when Slender sends him out on a mission not even a full 24 hours after the last one. It's just another distraction, another way to kill some time and keep his darker thoughts at bay. It's another way to feel useful, to feel needed.

He notices, as he's preparing his things, that his partners in crime aren't the happiest about getting thrown into another job. But then again, when are they ever happy?

Toby sits on the couch in their dingy cabin when he finishes prepping. Hoodie joins him not too long after, leaning against the side of the couch with his arms folded over his chest, and both wait in silence for the following orders.

When Masky has most of his things ready, he stands in front of them and addresses them for a debrief. It's a fairly standard mission, as far as jobs go. Something about someone with the Sickness who's trying to find the cure and needs to be intercepted—same old, same old. There's a strange kind of comfort in the regularity of the work.

Ever since the incident, Toby's life stopped making sense. But at least there's still some semblance of routine within the insanity of it all. At least he could still cling to these fleeting threads of normalcy.

"Toby."

Snap.

Masky snaps his fingers in front of Toby's face.

"You're zoning out. I need you focused."

"I am focused," Toby retorts.

"No, you're not. You're not taking this seriously."

With a roll of his eyes, Toby looks up at the ceiling.

"That's because we've done this exact same job hundreds of-of times by now. I don't need to listen to the same fu-fucking debriefing every s-single time."

Masky pinches the bridge of his nose, furrows his brows, and exhales deeply through his tired frustration.

"It's not the same every time. I'm giving you important information that you need to know and you need to remember. I don't do this shit for fun, Toby; it's not a fucking game."

"I'm not saying it's a fucking game," Toby stands abruptly as a jolt of anger snaps through his body. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from grabbing Masky's collar and shaking him. "I'm saying I'm sick of hearing you spew out the same crap time and time again when you—when you could just s-summarize it or something!"

"I am summarizing it—you fucking dipshit. You'd know that if you fucking listened for once in your life."

Toby's about to lose whatever meager ounce of self-control he has, when Hoodie steps in between them and separates them.

"Alright, that's enough. No injuries before we're on site. I don't wanna have to work more to compensate for dead weight."

"Just—focus, alright?" Masky insists, and all Toby can think about is how satisfying it would be to throw his fist into his dumb fucking face.

"I am focused," the youngest of the three seethes the words out.

"Alright, can you repeat the plan to me, then?"

"We're finding our target, going in, seeing what edge we can find. They have some—some notebook or wh-whatever and Slender wants it back. We kill if we need to."

Masky groans, as if the recap isn't good enough, but Hoodie shakes his head, as if to dissuade his partner from arguing any further.

"It'll do," Hoodie states, "C'mon, it shouldn't be a long one. The sooner we're in, the sooner we're out."

And just like that, the three separate to start loading up the car and heading out.

Masky drives, as usual, and Hoodie takes shotgun, leaving Toby in the back, as usual. He doesn't mind it too much, though; anything is better than sitting next to Masky for an extended amount of time. Plus, not having to worry about the road gives him plenty of time to look out the window and daydream. It's one of the few times he can escape, and his mind won't take him anywhere unpleasant.

Well, most of the time it won't, anyway. Which is about as good as it can get.

They sleep at a hotel after driving non-stop for the rest of the day, and they're on the road for the following two days after that. It's only on the fourth day that they finally crash at a hotel that Masky announces will be their "home, sweet home" until the end of the job.

He recaps the mission, again, but Toby, admittedly, only really pays attention to their target's description. He hears Masky explain that they’ll start working at dusk, but Toby’s already too busy testing out the mattresses and pillows to bother listening.

Thankfully, Masky ignores him instead of bitching at him, and the two other proxies talk about more shit Toby doesn't care about.

At least this won't be a long one, Toby thinks, his eyes already growing heavy as the comfort of the cheap hotel bed encourages him to relax. The last coherent thought he has is the feeling of relief that at least this mission’s bound to be over before he knows it.

And then his thoughts are lost to his dreams.