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acid-ixx · 1 month ago

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mea culpa (again &. again mini chapter)

tw: allusions to self harm, depression and suicidal thoughts. sensitive content ahead. this happens in between the end of chapter 3 and start of chapter 4.

if you were to describe the first few years at the manor, the first word that comes to you would be...

well, regret.

at every attempt, at every woeful request, and the rejection that follows. their distant stares, as if looking elsewhere other than you, or the way some wouldn't even acknowledge your name, or presence; it would've devoured anyone else's hope, would've been an already telltale sign that they had no interest in the likes of you.

invitations to spend time with them, to hopefully gain insights about their interests— just for that sliver of desire that somehow, someday you wouldn't have to constantly be on your knees, asking pleases in the sweetest tone a six year old like you could muster to a butler who had more important duties to attend to other than a desperate child wanting to spend time with their family.

when you lose something dear, you begin to desire that very same treasure lost. your mother is no more, her kisses were no more, her lingering touches long since disappeared.

it's only after a few weeks did the grief register within you. only then did the desire to recreate all those soft moments with her manifested into the threshold of your mind; clawing, hungry appendages that disguise itself as innocent ambition ready to hurt you.

all you simply wanted was to meet your father, to see him outside of camera flashes, or in news channels and interviews that only capture one part of him. you wish to see the man idolized by hundreds of civilians for his charitable actions, admired by thousands; a man who you were lucky enough to have as a father.

the very same man who, after having to take you under his care after news about your appearance sparked traction in media— was never in the same room as you.

and if he was? he'd be gone as soon before you could quickly greet him with a hello.

you remember those days, though. the first time where you'd get to pass by your... dad.

a lonesome afternoon, with a storm transpiring outside, the thick gusts of air and heavy rain thumping against the expanse of windows. it was only a quarter to six, yet the scene outside portrayed a sky far darker the shade of blue, and looked almost as if it was midnight. only the dissonant patterns of beating rain guides you to wander around listlessly with nothing to do; bored and delirious after a day of simply being... alone.

but the erratic noises didn't stop you from ceasing in your steps upon the sight of the man, standing in a room and looking out. his silhouette casting against the chandelier's orange light.

it was enough to stumble over, and do a double take at the man in front of you, only a few feet away, before coming closer to his distracted form to further take in his features.

how tall he actually was, towering over your impish, malnutritioned body like a wall. slicked, black hair, some strands loose and freed. his was more intimidating in person. gruff voice you've never once heard on tv, demanding control and respect. thick arms that contrast your sinewy ones, with veins that protruding from jagged skin; all hidded with fancy business suits and a charismatic smile that beckons your eyes to look upon his face instead.

he was handsome in person, more regal than the street thugs you've seen out the windows of your apartment windows. and, for a second, you couldn't believe that this was your father, standing in a room looking as if he could be painted then and there; your fingers buzzing to catch your hands on your sketchbook to draw every detail of the man in question.

your father, your dad, your papa that you've always marveled upon. now standing right before you like a statue concocted by a renaissance artist.

though the most important aspect of your father is his piercing blue eyes. brighter than anything you've seen before, yet duller than the bleak colors of the manor's wallpaper; gazing endlessly outside with no acknowledgement of the way you shake, or how the thumping in your

after one year of begging alfred to see him in person, you get to see him now on such an unannounced day.

yet you're happy all throughout. because he's here now and that's all that matters to the mind of tiny you, gasping and exhilarated to near tears.

fingers shaking, eyes never ripping itself from the man who's stripped you away of all words you wished to say.

it's as if he fits within the gothic setting perfectly. hell, even annunciating its splendor; the sharp edges on his face that are perfectly shadowed by the lack of illuminated, yellowish light, his stiff posture surveying the room, and muscled form speaking volumes of how much he truly acts as a pillar of support for the city.

safe to say his beauty was ethereal.

seeing him up close was far ever a better spectacle. you weren't just enamored; you were in every bit frozen in your stance, burning the memories of your first union with him into every crevice of your mind. dumbfounded, breathless, and buzzing with ecstasy of being face to face with a man your mother must've loved.

after all, he wasn't just one of the kindest souls to bless all of gotham, he was more than that. he was, in most important of details, your father.

a father you haven't seen, nor met, in the first years of your life.

yet those same eyes squint at something, anything else, and never once looked down at you, who modestly tries to pull at his loose house wear to capture his attention after moments you were locked in place. too small, too stubborn and young to understand why his gaze never wandered below and kept to his thoughts instead.

"papa!" you call out to him in a high pitched voice with a wide smile, trying your best to overpower the sound of the raging storm outside. your actions prove fruitless, yet you still attempt to make him snap out of his trance, jumping and shivering in near childish excitement.

and this was all you needed: a single grunt in response was enough to make you all the more feel ecstatic. it washed away your prior somberness at the weather since you're unable to play in the garden, and was replaced with overpowering fulfillment to a single noise he produced.

it never once crossed your mind that the grunt you thought he reciprocated wasn't acknowledgement of your actions.

no, it was merely him seemingly too preoccupied at the thought of his dead son; mind lost, and with no direction to take other than the grief that's still instilled into the pools of his deep, blue eyes.

it never once occurred to you how he hasn't looked down at all, or heard the wispy intonations of your voice blending into the faint, whimsical tune of jazz music that does the least to ease the pain eating away at his chest every time he's given a moment alone to ponder ever-so deeper into his current world of worries.

a world where you don't exist, and you've never once come to realize that until it was too late.

whilst you were busy admiring every side of your father, the good and the bad, you were ignorant to the unforeseen implications of how he never reciprocated the love you've shown him that faithful day; forgotten and buried under lonely silent walls and echoing halls that could only echo a figment of your voice.

when he had left the room and you to find tim, you were left to your own devices once again. yet at that time, you simply bounced with joy and jumped to the nearest couch, allowing the delusions of an improving life shackle you to the deepest of regrets after.

and despite everything, the manor was colder still. and it is cruel and unforgiving to a child like you.

others would've given up, others wouldn't even try so hard after the first failed attempts.

but you? you just weren't them, and you continued trying, one after the other attempt all failing miserably; your first mistake, yet never the last.

it went on like that for 13 and a half years.

these occurrences where you thug at the fabric of the adults roaming around the hallways, only to be ignored or downright rejected. dick broke his promise about visiting your room a second time, but you still chose to bother him every time he comes to visit for anybody but you, tim was no better and preferred to keep his space all for himself; accustomed to the life of a being a single child and preferring it that way, alfred had butler duties, and secret identites he had to tend to every night, and your father was... just that.

thirteen.

an unlucky number in some cultures, a number that was too long when translated in the language of time.

a decade, and nearly a half spent trying and failing. even then, everything you do amounted to nothing. every sweet smile, every baked treats long discarded in the bin, every longing gaze, and effort to set about physical affections for people who were more like strangers to you than family.

strangers under the same roof, living and thriving whilst you wait for admission to be accepted into their comfortable circles and inside joke that raptures from their luminous eyes.

you remember every single moment you had when you were in close proximity with your siblings, and the moments they exactly leave and forget you were even besides them in the first place— quietly humming as if understood that you didn't wish to disturb their presence with yours, but happy enough that they could at least tolerate you.

even if that tolerance stems from the mere fact that you were akin to a ghost in their ever-so busy eyes.

even so, you still remember. young and forgiving, spite a foreign emotion on your tongue, not until you've met the youngest of your lot which would only be after a few years, when you were too late.

you remember the faint elation that courses off through your veins every time alfred promises to get you at least a sliver of meeting bruce again— but even that has barely any updates, you've long since given up the hope that you would see him beyond his busy days.

and you remember it very clearly when dick first introduced you to your room, the sheer brightness that emanates off of your idol, the curls of his hair that flow like ocean waves framing his chiseled face; and his smile, a grin that sports the brightest of teeth, which brings warmth that makes you forget why you were even taken in the first place, replaced with whimsy and giddiness that you get to meet your favorite person in the world, second to your mother.

the way his bright blue eyes contrast with bruce's, seemingly sunnier, more kinder in its approach that makes you drown deeper into the same gaze that forgets you a day after.

and those memories were stored in your heart, both good and bad, kept under lock and key to both haunt and tempt you throughout the entire months you had to deal with the loneliness clawing in your heart.

the pain was surreal every time you reminisce upon the windowsill, watching distantly in the garden that stretches far beyond thick fields of trees, flora and fauna; as tim spends his waking moments with his new group of friends who all praise the colorful array of bloom planted root-deep with love, and care and perseverance— all with soft, vibrant petals and sturdy stems that were a product of your hard-earned labor.

nobody truly acknowledged it was you who planted all those colorful arrays of flowers.

yet you remember everything, or at least recollections of when and how you came to realize just how truly invisible you are to the world.

the hope that flickers within once someone sets their eyes on you, family or friends. the heartbreak that settles within every fiber of pallid skin and sinewy bones every time those eyes leave your form after the slightest of seconds; you remember them all in record time and run to lock yourself in your room to write all these instances in an endless supply of diaries documenting just how miserable you truly are.

no matter if it pains you, and rips at the edges of thinly lined paper stained with black-inked pen writing down your harrowing rants; bleeding into the pages just like how your emotions run deeper than depression and ebbing anxiety.

dates were plastered as both a reminder and punishment for you to reflect upon— on all your wrongs, and ways on how to better yourself so someone, other than alfred, could finally acknowledge you for more than a few seconds.

you remember everything, you were sure of it, but not the first time you purposely drew blood from your skin, or when you contemplated ending it all.

maybe it was all stemming from pressure, or the constant subjection to emotional neglect paired with no support system helping you handle your instability to control your emotions.

or it came after you had first met damian, with your youngest brother threatening you with a damn sword that nicked your skin; making it his mission to torment you consistently your entire life. pushing you down the stairs, calling you and your mother names; a disgrace, mere baggage to the wayne's reputation— even if you glare at him with the slightest bit of bite does he retaliate with an even stronger approach. until you give up, until the fire in your eyes are washed away by the current of dizzying turmoil. until you couldn't even look at him eye-to-eye anymore, ignoring the wide stares he gives you and the way his hands reaches out to you after you run to a different room from his presence alone.

or it all probably fucking started when the lump in your throat had refused to go away, when the heavy boulder you call your heart weighs you down to watch in a corner as yet another member gets introduced into the family, when jealousy raptures and seers into your veins at just how easy...

how easy it is to actually integrate your presence into the wayne family, so why couldn't you?!

a week after you were integrated, it was tim who was welcomed warmly, who fits in so perfectly like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle whilst you were considered an exclusion, an extra who doesn't don a fucking cowl every night, who couldn't in your damn life break every bone and return in one piece, serving as a symbol inspiration for the media to set its eyes upon, and your smile most definitely doesn't brighten the entire room.

you're nothing compared to them.

to try so hard, to fail all the same— as your achievements, your successes and milestones all amount to nothing but heartbroken expectations and a pat of pity from your butler.

the hurt piles, and piles, and piles itself until the colossal infrastructure falls and obliterates around you in its torrid pits of flames and carnage, until glass shards erupt and pierce at your skin until it reaches bones— much like the blades you store and use to butcher skin until it turns into an unintelligible mess of bloodied lines flimsily slashed across the expanse of your body.

like an artwork, a canvas that pictures slaughter in the wake of tragedy. with blood that seeps and stains into the crevices of everything it touches, with you as both the painter and the muse of the chaos you chose to wreck upon yourself.

thick ropes, pill bottles, bottomless water, and sharp blades; they all became topics of interest within the pages of your flabbily designed sketchbook. there was a period of time where all you could do was subjecting each blank slate of ivory sheets with stabs of pencil lead and ruined brushes every time you handle things too roughly. you'd clench into whatever you're holding, and bite at your teeth until it draws blood that drips on grayscale sketches portraying you meeting brutal fates.

and it always ends in your ripping those sketches apart whilst curling in on yourself, pulling at unkempt hair and scratching at hollow, sunken cheeks.

with screams unheard, silent and voiceless through the halls of the manor you once considered a home— like a ghost with no words that come out its mouth, a robot with no voicebox, a doll whose mouth is stitched shut.

it was always silent every night, but the voice of doubt was always louder, and it beckons you to hang yourself, to end your life and to never look back at their wide grins as they spend yet another night together.

it convinces you to write a note for each and every member of the family, to bid them farewell and pass to the world; even if those letters would forego the same fate as you— neglected, stored at the dustiest corners of the room.

you're hurt, both inside and out, alone and deserted with only your thoughts; loud and unforgiving, terrible yet comforting. you feel hurt, at dick's broken promises and sideward glances, jealousy at jason's hold over bruce even after years of his death, spite at tim's brilliance and all the friends who come over at the manor, as if taunting you of his social privileges, and fear for damian to spring up against you, to kill you with his blades and serve your cold body upfront on top of the dinner table.

and you were hurting all the damn time. if not physically, then mentally and emotionally. you allowed the invisible shackles to scar you, trapping you with spikes constantly piercing through your organs. you let yourself be a victim to the past, subjecting yourself to punishment by remembering your mother, sprawled all across the floor in crimson carnage— as you're taken away from her by policemen scouring the area before you could even run to her limp body. it was enough to tempt you to draw sharp object on your skin, condemnation for a life that shouldn't be saved— you would've preferred if your mother lived, rather than you. she had so much more to do with her youthful life, you had nothing.

life was unbearable, you were always teethering on the edge of a cliff suspending in thin air; choosing to run for either hill, holding a string ready to break, for safety always required great risk. one you'd rather jump off of than expend anymore energy of your already weary life altogether—

until you had decided to change the course of your life. until, one day, through gradual thinking and contemplation, that they were the main source of your torment. that you needed to say goodbye, you need to live to honor your mother.

that was the only ideal part of your twisted world. all for your mother, who had sacrificed herself, her kind heart, all to keep you safe and contented.

when you had made the ultimate decision to move out of the manor, throwing away your past life and moving on with a different chapter, you thought your habits would've ceased. that you're cured, that nothing stands in the way of your developing independence and uprising confidence.

you are free, unchained to both the confines of your emotions and the neglect of your family.

happy, content, and living the best of your world despite the financial circumstances and... overdue bills. either way, you're satisfied and that counts. counts for the six-seven months you were away, meeting new friends, ignoring the prying eyes of a certain individual always watching you from afar, as you party and drink and come to only regret not staying sober the day after.

you were at your peak.

feeling the best of all worlds.

at least, not until dick's sudden messages flipped a switch, into a dormant part of your mind, adrenaline surging through your veins, your vision flooded with similar images of your past: of eerie hallways and lonely birthdays. those memories taunt you, and dick's gleaming pair of ocean eyes, that once bring comfort into your oblivious brain now traps you in his spiteful gaze.

and you really, genuinely thought you were no longer in need of anymore pain.

yet you were always wrong. of course you always are.

you're just you, remember?

now, in your current apartment, you stand hidden in the safety of your bathroom, staring at the mirror without thought, with only resignation; unprepared at your family's plans to take you back into their caging arms, but ready for the blade to once again reunite with the familiar lines long healed.

all to wash away your regret.

reblogs, and most especially comments and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: sometimes, the pain you bear is too much to handle alone. sometimes, it can manifest through physical means to overpower the anguish that hurts you from within. but that doesn't mean going through the notion is deserved; nobody should ever resort through hurting themselves. when writing this, i was projecting all my emotions into the mc. in truth, as much as i love goofy drabbles, or write for the pleasures of myself and others; that doesn't change any problems i have at all. chronic depression is a pain in the ass. releasing my emotions through writing helps me a lot. and i hope that whoever reads this little drabble know that this is a love letter both to me for how far i've come, and the readers who've supported me with comments and praises that helped me go through the day. i've nothing else to say, i feel indifferent to the draft.

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pjsfvs · 11 months ago

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breeding kink hc - Mark Lee

paring : husband!mark x afab!reader

warnings/tags : very nsfw, mentions of pregnancy, oral sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluff, breeding kink, Mark going AT it

summary : mark will do whatever it takes to get you pregnant.

a/n : this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday on 1/27 but i posted the Sunoo hc instead. Also, if you have any requests, you can leave them in my inbox! and don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

Having a child together was always something Mark and you knew would happen for you. Brushed lightly on the subject, you clearly remember the way Mark’s eyes would light up when you’d mentioned earlier in your relationship, that you wanted children.

Now, married in bliss with your second anniversary approaching, Mark had started to get a little impatient. You both knew you wanted to get pregnant eventually but hadn’t quite decided concretely exactly when just yet.

For Mark, a family always seemed a distant dream. However, when you’d walked into his life, he knew he wanted it with you.

In the beginning of your relationship, you used condoms during sex. It worked at the time, but eventually, after a conversation together, you decided you’d get yourself on birth control. Mark and you were pretty serious, had a solid foundation for your relationship and knew you wanted to be together for the rest of your lives,

And part of you wanted to take that step in your relationship; no matter how minor it may be. Sex was already something so intimate between you two, but to remove the barrier of a condom and really feel each other closer? It felt natural. Felt like something you trusted each other with.

Little did you know, that decision would spark a little something in your man…

For Mark, the first time you’d had sex using birth control, he swore he fell a little further for you [if it was even possible]. To know you trusted him to cum inside, that you weren’t scared, or fearful of anything going wrong meant so much to him.

Often during sex, he’d find himself thinking how much power his seed really had. On birth control, his cum buried deep inside your cunt meant nothing more than the mutual trust you two shared, a symbol of how deep your relationship had gotten.

But if you were off birth control? If the sex was unprotected?

Mark’s cum held great power. He could put a baby in you. Your baby, that you made with the embodiment of love your bodies yield to each other. The thought alone made Mark shiver each time, shuddering with a tingle of anticipation when he’d spill his hot loads inside you each night.

“Mark?” You’d asked one night, after a steamy quickie before bed. You rested your head on his bare chest as he heaves down from his high, a heavy palm rested to the bare skin of your exposed back.

“Yeah, baby?” He returns, kissing the top of your tousled hair softly. His palms are gently soothing over your bare hips, the same hips that would someday, hopefully carry the live of your child.

And that same night, the conversation happened. You’re both ready for a baby, you both want a baby with each other.

Mark is ecstatic, can’t wait to watch your pregnant belly grow as he showers his love on you, taking care of you each step of the way. Mark is already the perfect husband, and you best bet that it would heighten tenfold when you’re pregnant.

You have sex every single day now, sometimes multiple times a day. Sex with Mark was always fantastic, always had you practically on the verge of tears to how well he’d fuck you when he needed to, how well he’d make love to you when he needed to. If anyone knows how to strike the perfect balance, it’s Mark Lee.

“You gonna give me a baby, kitten?” Mark rasps, hastily pounding into your needy cunt from above. His biceps rest on either side of you and they look massive this way, a dark, almost primal darkness in his eyes on some nights like this. You’ve been trying for about a month now, and Mark is growing impatient. Part of him fears deep inside that as always, something will go wrong; deprive him from the life he wants with you. You make sure to assure him, however. Assure him that it’ll happen for you.

“Ye-yes baby, put a baby in me Mark…” You whimper, begging underneath him, soft legs tightly wrapped around his waist to give him optimal access to your deepest parts. Mark’s cock twitches inside you, and you know he’s close. Every single time, you shake and shudder to the feel of being pounded by him, the way his creamy, succulent cum fills up inside you to the brim.

It baffles you the amount of cum the man carries, how much he spills after each fuck. You can definitely feel him fill you up and it turns you on so fucking bad as you desperately pull him close, peppering needy kisses all over his face as he makes you cum as well.

“They say the more orgasms you have, the better the chances of getting pregnant.” Mark whispers, slowly delving between your drenched thighs. He licks a long stride up your aching pussy before circling sloppy, wet circles to your clit. You’re not sure if Mark’s theory is 100% accurate. Nonetheless, you know Mark thrives off making you feel good, he wants you to enjoy the process more than him. After all, you are the one who’s going to be carrying your baby for months on end, bearing all the pain and discomforts that come your way.

It does pull at your heartstrings how much Mark cares, how desperate he is fulfilling the deed of getting you pregnant.

If on your bed, before sex, Mark puts a pillow under your hips to angle them up slightly while he pumps in and out. “Can’t have any drip out,” He smirks, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as his throbbing cock stays positioned inside you, cocooned by your warm, pulsing walls after release.

Cockwarming has become almost a daily occurrence. After he’s came inside you, Mark keeps his girthy member inside your cunt for a couple of minutes as you both come down from your highs. He’ll rest his head in the haven of your breasts, arms wrapping around you as you pull him close, kissing his head to happy dreams of this wonderful, loving man fathering your children someday.

Mark insists that you have sex a couple times a day, and you fear he’ll eventually get sick of having you if you don’t slow down a little

“I’ll never get sick of you,” He whispers into your neck, softly kissing the skin as his arms hold you so dearly tight. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.” You whisper, cupping his cheek. Mark is the sweetest man you know, and you best believe he’s only gotten sweeter since you’ve started trying.

Sometimes, when lounging next to each other, or when he’d come up behind you in a tender hug as you cook breakfast, Mark rests his hands on your belly; dreaming of how heartfelt it would be the day your baby would be in there,

“You’re gonna look so beautiful sweetheart, carrying our baby.” His deep baritone would soothe in your ears as he slams into you, your breasts bouncing to his pace as his hips snap into you hard, senselessly. His balls slam your core so hard each time, and the sounds of skin slapping skin fill the house very often nowadays. “Gonna show you off to the entire world,” He moans, cupping your breasts & kneading them with a firm force, yet cautious not to hurt you, as his mind drifts to the thought of how full they’d look, swollen holding milk

Mark and you have possibly tried every sex position there is at this point. Doggy style? Mark fucks into like a rabbit from behind, cock grinding your cervix to the deepest parts before slipping out entirely, only to plummet back in

Your legs on his shoulders as he fucks into you relentlessly? It’s one of his “trying to conceive” favourites, allows his sperm to take advantage of gravity

Face to face lying beside each other? Mark practically melts each time you do this one. The entry of his cock is so deep this way as you hold each other’s gazes, your leg draped over his waist as his arms pull you closer, rosy skin flushed together with a thin layer of sweat.

From behind as you lay on your stomach? Mark’s eyes roll to the back of his head in this one. He enters you from behind, pounding in as he grinds your g-spot repeatedly, almost always giving you two orgasms before he cums deep, deep inside.

Did I mention how loud Mark is when he cums

He moans, throaty groans fleeing his lips as he practically growls in your ear. The way you clench around him is too much, your pussy is too tight; too warm and he’s far too in love with your body (and all of you, ofc). Far too drunk on thoughts of pounding you pregnant for him.

Sometimes Mark can get so dirty while fucking you.

It surprises you sometimes that your sweet, loving, wholesome husband can say such sinful things

“Gonna make a baby come out of that tight little pussy.” He drips, biting small love marks into your skin as he thrusts, marking your body as his breeding ground.

I mean he is a literal assassin so you do get that he can be a bit brutal sometimes

He tracks your periods and the days you’re most fertile (not that it matters too much since he fucks you into oblivion each day haha) but on days where you’ve ovulating, he makes sure to go deeper, harder, and get in multiple rounds for optimal chances of conceiving.

Mark cumming inside is so special now. You can’t help but shiver each time you feel him explode deep within you, knowing that that load might be the one to do the trick.

You’re an advocating member of the “Make Mark a daddy 2024” campaign.

And when your period is late…you tell Mark with beaming eyes and swear you’d seen a glistening glow in that chocolate gaze, unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You buy multiple tests together, Mark's hand holding yours the entire time. The thought that your baby might be growing inside you, right now, this second as you stand at the checkout counter has his smiling like a goofy idiot.

Your goofy idiot, of course :)

You take the tests together in the master bathroom of your bedroom. Mark is on edge and you have to hold his hand to reassure him, explaining to him that if its only a false alarm, you’ll keep trying because you want this with him. You need this with him.

You want a family and it’s never going to change.

But when all the tests come back positive, Mark is on the brink of tears.

You both are, holding each other tighter than ever as you both cry into each other’s necks, kneeling in a bundle of cuddles on the bathroom floor. Mark kisses each inch of your face, peppers delicate kisses to your tousled hair, offering squeezes to your hand when you let out a soft sniffle at the sheer happiness.

This is a moment that will forever be engrained in your minds.

It was finally happening; you made a baby.

You’ve never seen Mark this happy before, feeling as if everything in his life has finally fallen into place. This is what all the pain, all the hurt, all the sin that lingers in the shadows of his past had been leading up to. A family with you, free of evil, free of any grim that lingers.

A life where the only Mark Lee that the world knows, is the Mark who loves and is loved by his wife, and the Mark who is a father.

The most loving, caring, amazing father he could ever be.

#౨ৎㅤ violet writes #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee #mark x reader #mark smut #mark fluff #husband!mark #౨ৎㅤ mark

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covenofagatha · 5 days ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 7)

Answers to your past are revealed

Word count: 5500

Warnings: oral, fingering, and of course, more murder

You’re nine, almost ten, when your family moves to Salem, Massachusetts for your dad’s job. You don't quite know exactly what he does, but it doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that you get to pick your own room in the four-bedroom colonial on the cul-de-sac three blocks from your new school. You choose the bigger of the two bedrooms upstairs and the long windows overlook the woods in your backyard. Your younger brother complains since he only gets the smaller room with a view of the neighbor’s house, but your mom laughs and tells him that since you’re older, you get first pick.

Everything is perfect there. You like your new school, and like the new friends you made. You come home everyday and sing karaoke after dinner, putting on a show for your family, and they clap and cheer and tell you that they can’t wait to see you on Broadway someday.

One day in fourth grade, you learn about witches in Social Studies. Women were burned at the stake right there in Salem because men feared them and what they were capable of. Your best friend leans over and whispers, “You know there’s still witches here, right? They live in the woods.”

This piqued your interest more than you thought it would; there is something fascinating about a woman with power. While you don’t believe in witches or magic, you want to know what that is like, to be capable of doing something great, something more than just your boring life as a fourth grader. And while there obviously aren't witches in the woods, your curiosity gets the better of you.

So you pack a bag of snacks and capri-suns and set out into the woods behind your house. You know your parents would be mad if you told them, so you don’t. You’d be back before it was even dark out, and you had turned ten a few months ago at that point. Plenty grown up enough to go alone.

It’s only about five minutes in when you start panicking. Snow is starting to fall, a light cover on the forest floor, and you are possibly a little lost. The trees seem to be getting thicker and a branch scratches your leg through your pants. It tears the fabric and there is a bloody gash.

Your mom is going to be so mad that you ripped them.

You should probably get home now.

The only problem is that you don’t know which way home is, having been disoriented by the scratch to your shin. And there isn’t enough snow to see your footprints yet. So you pick a random direction, hopefully the one you just came from, and start walking.

It is not the right way, as you only seem to be going more into the thicket.

You’re scared, starting to freak out, when you come across a frozen creek. You bend down and stare into your reflection, meeting your eyes while you take deep breaths to slow your racing heart.

And then you hear a sound and you lurch back, falling onto the mud on the bank. It gets on your clothes and you know your mom is going to be even more mad now. Not only did you tear your pants, you now have wet dirt all over them and your jacket.

The sound comes back, only this time, you’re able to figure out what it is.

Laughter.

Someone is laughing in the woods. Who is it?

Terror grips your heart. Are there really witches here? You know you should turn back around, go anywhere other than toward the sound, but you’ve come this far.

You stand up and brush your messy hands on your jacket and you follow the noise through more trees, and you’re convinced you must be going the wrong way until you come into a clearing. It’s in the shape of a large circle and you wonder if there used to be more nature here.

Stepping forward, you feel incredibly vulnerable without the protection of all the trees around you and snow crunches underneath your boots. The laughter has stopped, and you scan the tree line to look for where it may have been coming from.

More snow starts to fall and you wrap your jacket tighter around you, shivering. You’re about to leave when you see what looks like the outline of a person tucked away between a few trees on the other side of the clearing.

It’s like you’re being pulled towards them by an invisible line. As if in a trance, you start walking in their direction and a stick cracks under your foot, sending red birds fluttering from the branches.

The person hears it too, and they turn around. It’s a woman with long dark hair and blue eyes that seem to glow, and she smiles at you, reaching a hand out to beckon you closer.

Your mom’s warning of Don’t talk to strangers! echoes in your mind, but you push it away and keep moving forward.

She’s with two other women, one with dark hair to her shoulders and brown eyes, and the other with gray hair and greenish-bluish eyes. The gray-haired lady looks mad and her face reminds you of a crow. She’s standing against a tree, her feet in the middle of a big pile of wood.

“What’s a young girl like you doing out here in the forest?” The brunette with blue eyes asks, but you’re too busy peering at the older lady. Her hands are behind her back and seemingly wrapped around the tree.

“Little girl, you need to run and get help,” the gray-haired lady barks and you flinch at the roughness in her voice. “They’re going to kill me!”

Is she tied to the tree?

Your brows crinkle and the other woman, the one who hasn’t spoken yet, chuckles and waves her off. “Don’t listen to Evanora, doll. Why don’t you come walk with Agatha and I and we can help you figure out where you need to be right now.”

The blue-eyed woman – Agatha – smiles in agreement and puts an arm around you to lead you away, deeper into the woods. You can still hear Evanora shouting faintly but you try to ignore it.

“Why don’t you tell us your name, sweetheart?” Agatha asks and you tell them. They both nod. “Well I’m Agatha, and this is Rio.”

“Are you guys witches?” You ask and they both give you amused looks.

Rio kneels down so she’s eye-level with you. “Why would you think that, doll?” She’s studying your face curiously.

You shrug. “My friend told me there were witches in the woods. And then I found you.”

“Sorry to disappoint, honey, but we’re not witches,” Agatha laughs. “We were just camping.”

It makes you frown. “Then who’s that woman?”

Rio glances up at Agatha and then back to you. “Evanora is…not a very nice person. But you don’t have to worry about that at all. Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, at the edge of the woods. I got a little lost, though,” you say sadly and they look very sympathetic.

“Well, why don’t we help you get back? We know these woods very well, we can have you back before supper,” Agatha offers.

But you’re not ready to go back just yet. “Why can’t I stay here a little longer with you guys? Can you show me the woods?” You look at them hopefully, sticking out your bottom lip and giving them the best puppy-dog eyes you can, and Rio chuckles before standing up and holding out a hand to you.

“Why don’t I show you my favorite spot?” She says and you nod eagerly. You notice Agatha giving her a strange look but she follows the two of you.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?” Agatha asks.

You beam up at her, happy she’s coming along. “I’m in fourth grade. I have a younger brother who’s in first. We don’t have any pets, even though I’ve been begging my dad for a dog. And I’m going to be famous when I grow up!”

They both gasp. “Famous!” Agatha exclaims. “I didn’t realize we were in the presence of a future celebrity. Rio, remind me to get our little superstar’s autograph before taking her back home.”

You giggle at the name and they both smile fondly down at you before leading you on. It’s only a bit more before Rio stops and points. “See right there, doll?”

A gasp leaves your throat. It’s absolutely beautiful. In the middle of the trees, there’s a field of the prettiest purple flowers you’ve ever seen. You drop Rio’s hand and go wander into it, breathing in the honeysuckle scent.

“What kind of flowers are they?” You ask absentmindedly, brushing your hand over the stop of them. Even in the winter, they are still growing strong.

“Azaleas,” Rio tells you and you repeat it.

You pick two and walk back over to them, offering them each a flower. Then you ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind. “Are you going to kill Evanora?”

Agatha does a double-take and Rio’s hand tightens around the flower stem. “Of course not, superstar,” Agatha assures you, but you’re not convinced.

“She said you were going to,” you insist. “It looked like she was tied to the tree and she’s standing in a lot of wood. Are you going to burn her? That’s what they did to witches, you know. Is she a witch?”

Rio snorts. “More like a bitch,” she mutters under her breath and Agatha shoots her a glare.

“That’s a bad word,” you state matter-of-factly and she smirks.

Agatha gets down so she can hold onto your shoulders. “Evanora is a very evil lady. She’s tried to hurt me many times.”

You hold onto her gaze. “Maybe she deserves it then.” Agatha sharply inhales and Rio cackles like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“What?” Agatha asks, regarding you cautiously, scanning your face like she’s looking for something.

You shrug. It makes sense to you. “Have you ever killed someone before?”

“I like you, doll,” Rio says, reaching over to pat you on the head. Agatha gives her a weary look.

“She’s a kid, Rio,” Agatha reminds her. “We should really be getting you back home. Come on.”

You walk behind them as they follow your footsteps, winding you back through the woods until you’re back to where Evanora is. You can see her hands struggling with the rope around her wrist, struggling to get it off.

Why can you not stop thinking about it? About what it would feel like to watch her die?

You don’t know why, but you know you’re not ready to leave just yet. So you dig your heels into the snow and stop moving. Evanora starts wailing, trying to get your attention, but you fix your stare on the other women.

Agatha and Rio keep walking a few more paces until they finally realize you’re not behind them.

“Y/N, let’s go,” Agatha says sternly but you stay rooted. Rio whispers something to her and they begin a heated discussion about what they should do with you.

But you drone them out, looking around their campsite. You can feel something calling to you almost, something in Agatha’s backpack. You bend down and pull out a matchbook.

Your breath stutters in your lungs and you’re in a daze when you turn back around to see Evanora.

“Little girl, put those down and help untie me,” she hisses. “We need to get away from my abomination of a daughter and her friend.” You don’t know why she says it like that, not sure if there’s an underlying meaning to her words, but nothing feels real when you take out a match.

A hush falls over the woods and you glance back to find Agatha and Rio watching you with wide eyes, waiting for your next move.

Time slows down when you strike it against the box and the heat from the flame, while small, warms your face.

It's a morbid curiosity, you tell yourself, that’s filling your head right now. You just want to see what happens.

Evanora isn’t making sense now, babbling on and pleading and blubbering, but there’s a vibration in your ears that drowns her out.

Is this what it feels like, to have power? To be capable of something greater, for people to know it?

Except you’re not the one about to be burned.

Your arm reaches out and your fingers open and the match drops out, falling to the wood as if in slow motion, and a brilliant blaze of fire erupts.

You gasp – what have you done? Why would you do that?

She’s going to die. Panic fills your lungs – or is that smoke? – and you rush forward and try to help her but someone yanks you back by the shoulders.

“You’ll get burned!” Agatha yells in your ear over Evanora’s horrific screams. You struggle against her, needing to break free, needing to do something.

“Agatha, we need to go!” Rio shouts and you tear out of Agatha’s arms and start running in the other direction. Maybe if you go fast enough, you can run back in time and undo it.

Why would you do that?

You round a tree too fast and slip on the ice, tumbling down to the ground. Your head smashes against a rock with a loud crack and you instantly black out.

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital room with your mom and dad asleep in chairs next to your bed. You stir and attempt to sit up, but your entire body aches and machines start beeping as your heart starts to race.

Your parents jump up and your mom breaks into a sob, your dad embracing her tightly.

“What’s–” You try to ask what’s going on, what’s happening, where are you, but your throat is dry.

Your dad calls for a doctor and two men in white lab coats rush in.

“Y/N, do you remember what happened?” One of them asks and you strain your brain but a sharp pain bolts through your head and you clap your hand to it.

All you can do is shake your head no.

The doctors look grimly at your parents. “We knew this was a possibility. A traumatic brain injury like this can cause amnesia, especially regarding the events right before the accident. She might never remember, and it might take a few days for her memory to get back to normal. There’s a chance she might not even know she was in the hospital. Don’t be surprised if there’s a bit of a personality change too.”

A fresh wave of tears fall from your mom’s eyes but she clasps your cheeks and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Our baby is okay, though. That’s all that matters.”

And there were no indistinguishable differences in your personality from before the accident to after, except for one thing.

You now want, more than anything, to understand how murderers’ minds work.

~~~

Agatha and Rio had thought you were dead up until three years ago.

They had followed you after you had lit the match and watched as you fell and hit your head, quickly rushing over to you.

Your breaths were faint and they had grunted as they carried you almost all the way out of the woods, positioning you on the ground next to the bloody rock on the edge. Surely it wouldn’t be too long before someone saw you, even if you had already died.

And then they booked it out of Salem, into Westview, New Jersey, where they set up their new life, getting married a year later.

The topic of you killing Agatha’s mother quickly became something the two of them stopped talking about, and it was like it had never happened.

Agatha became a detective and Rio became a therapist, and all was well.

Until one morning, about twelve years later, when Agatha is reading the newspaper in the kitchen and sees an article about a serial killer getting caught down in Miami, Florida.

She hums and Rio looks up from her coffee. “What?”

Agatha flips the paper and points. “Have you heard of the Scarlet Killer?”

“A little bit,” Rio shrugs, leaning forward. “Apparently she was kidnapping kids and killing the parents or something. One of my patients with triplets was so paranoid that she was the next victim, despite living a thousand miles away. Convinced the killer was going to come all the way up here just for her.”

Agatha snorts. “She was just caught. But look at the part about the profiler who caught her. And the picture.”

Rio’s eyes drop and scan the part toward the bottom. Her brows furrow and she looks up and meets Agatha’s gaze. “This can’t be her, can it?”

But the name is the same, the face, albeit older, is the same.

Agatha uses her resources at the police station to look you up and they find the story of your life, everything that’s happened since that fateful day in the clearing. Her and Rio pour over it and Agatha can’t help but feel proud of everything you’ve done.

The medical record from the hospital they get a hold of from Salem is hard to get, it takes Agatha calling in many favors, but it’s worth it because now they know that you don’t remember.

A year and a half passes and they follow all your cases. Rio is fascinated by the way your brain works, putting things together and figuring things out. You have a knack for the female serial killers it seems, and a question lingers in both their minds.

It isn’t until they’re laying in bed one right that Rio dares to ask it. “Do you think it’s because of us?”

Agatha shrugs. “Maybe there was something else.”

“You think she came across two other people planning on killing a woman in the woods and then she stole their thunder?” Rio says and Agatha laughs.

“She stole our thunder?” Agatha teases and Rio lightly jabs her in the stomach.

Rio softly strokes the skin on Agatha’s hand. “Yeah, I kind of wanted to be the one to do it after everything she put you through.”

Agatha softens. Death had been a part of her life ever since she was a girl and her mom had found out that she liked girls. Evanora was the town’s pastor, and that simply would not do. The girls Agatha had a fling with always turned up missing or dead, and there were far too many times Agatha had almost been accidentally killed for it to be a coincidence.

Everyone stayed away from her except for Rio. Rio wasn’t afraid, Rio was willing to kill for her.

Had the two of them killed people before? Yes. They can still remember you asking them that. They liked the thrill, got off on it even, but they hadn’t done it since they’d met you.

“Well, I’m very sorry I don’t have another mother for you to kill,” Agatha jokes and Rio leans in to kiss her.

“I would, you know,” Rio says seriously and Agatha laughs at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

And then she thinks back to the photos of you in your FBI jacket and how much you’ve matured. Your mind is brilliant, but you’ve become ever the attractive thing. “She’s grown into quite the young woman,” Agatha muses and Rio pulls back, a glint in her eyes.

“She certainly has,” Rio agrees, going in for another kiss, a deeper kiss. Agatha moans when her wife bites her lip. “What if we…“

Agatha raises an eyebrow when Rio trails off. “What?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, already knowing what she’s going to suggest.

It’s crazy.

It’s a spur of the moment, impulsive thing to say.

“Female serial killers are her thing,” Rio begins, her fingers trailing down Agatha’s stomach. She skates under the oversized tee she’s wearing and Agatha shivers. “One of the best in the FBI. If there were to be, say, two female serial killers here in Westview, don’t you think they’d send her?”

Agatha gasps when Rio cups her over her underwear. Her wife moves her fingers roughly, rubbing her clit through the fabric, and Agatha can feel herself growing wet.

“You want her to catch us?” Agatha asks, voice breaking off into a groan. Rio snickers as she pushes her panties to the side and draws lazy circles over her pussy.

She shakes her head. “Not catch us. We know her, know what she’s capable of. We can bring that out in her again.”

Agatha moans when Rio pushes a finger inside her. Her hips roll slowly, matching Rio’s thrusts. “You want to make her into a murderer?”

“Like you don’t want to corrupt her? Look at her, how delicious she is. She’s our own case study. We’ve never met anyone like her,” Rio says, entranced and speech unburdened, like she didn’t just slip a second finger into her wife.

“You’re such a therapist. And so horny,” Agatha huffs out, her own hand reaching down to rub her clit while Rio speeds up her thrusts. Her walls are clenching and she feels a building low in her gut, tingles spreading through her body.

Rio ducks down to suck on Agatha’s neck and the older woman keens underneath her. “Think about it, Aggs. We draw her here. We get a little taste of our superstar, both mentally and physically. She’s fucking brilliant, and so fucking hot.”

Agatha’s mind betrays her and she pictures you on your knees for her, holding your hair back in a ponytail so she can get a clearer look at you. You’re twenty-two years old now, half Rio’s age and over half Agatha’s age, too young, but there’s something about the darkness that she knows is inside you that calls to her, entices her.

“She’d be such a good pet for us,” Agatha gasps, giving into the fantasy. Rio curls her fingers and scissors them and twists them and Agatha is reduced to a panting mess on the bed, hips furiously grinding up. She’s so close. “Rio.”

And her wife always knows what she needs. “Just picture her, Aggie. Picture the three of us in bed, her fucking you and me fucking her and then vice versa. Her tongue inside your pussy and then your fingers inside hers. God, I bet she tastes so good.”

Agatha’s back arches off the bed at the image and she cums all over Rio’s fingers, frantically rubbing her own clit to draw out the pleasure.

When she comes down from an intense high, the two of them start planning.

It becomes apparent quickly that they’re rusty in the whole murder game. But they just need some practice.

Agatha and Rio can’t do it in Westview though, can’t bring you here too soon before they’re ready.

So they drive to different states. Staying in New Jersey is still a bit of a risk. But it doesn’t take them that long to find their groove.

It can’t just be a regular, basic crime scene with a gunshot or a knife or something. It needs to be art, a performance, something that gets you here.

So they figure out their M.O.. Rio was always excellent with a knife, and Agatha, whose father was a chemist, is able to whip up some mixtures that create exactly the look they’re going for.

It’s gruesome and unnecessary and perhaps over the top, but they’re going to desperate measures to make sure they get what they want.

And oh god, do they want you now. You’ve become an obsession to them, sinking your claws into their minds and leaving them to think of little else.

They won’t make it easy for you, no. They’ll confuse the witnesses and Rio will wear a mask and there will be no trace left behind, but they’re confident that you will crack it.

Plus, they’re more than willing to give you a guiding hand.

The first time they strike, it goes almost too perfectly. They choose a random person, a woman who lives alone. The poison achieves exactly the desired effect and the bleach and hydrogen peroxide completely gets rid of all the blood after Rio cuts out her heart.

The purple azalea was Rio’s idea, a small thing meant to jog your memory. They both didn’t have a clue if it would work, but they wanted to see.

“What should I do with this?” Rio asks, holding up the organ, and there is something about her disheveled hair, rolled up sleeves, and bloody hands that just really gets to Agatha.

She has her wife pushed against the wall and Agatha sinks down to her knees, quickly unbuttoning her pants and shoving them down before Rio can say anything else. She mouths at her through her underwear and moans at the musky scent and how she can suck the wetness out of the fabric because of how soaked Rio is. Agatha can already feel her throbbing.

Their plan is going to do wonders for their sex life.

Agatha nips at Rio’s pale skin, bites her hip, and drags her panties off with her teeth and Rio’s head falls back at the sight.

“Agatha, fuck,” Rio breathes, the hand not holding the heart coming down to tangle into her hair. She wildly looks around for somewhere to put it and decides to place it gently on the bookshelf.

The older woman’s tongue delves through her folds and Rio makes a strangled sound, widening her stance so Agatha can get better access. Her nose bumps against Rio’s clit and continues to move against her as Agatha shoves her tongue inside her entrance and devours her, licking up and curling it only the way she can. Her nails dig into Rio’s thighs, knowing the younger woman likes a little bit of pain, and Rio’s fingers tighten in Agatha’s long hair, holding her there.

It’s a bit hard for Rio to ride her face, so she settles for rutting her hips against Agatha, each bump from her nose and each stroke from her tongue only making her closer.

Rio moans her wife’s name again and Agatha rubs her glistening face against her inner thighs, spreading Rio’s wetness all over her skin before sucking her clit into her mouth and scraping her teeth against it.

That’s all it takes and Rio cums faster than she ever has, all over Agatha’s face.

The sex becomes part of the process. Who knew murder would be such an aphrodisiac? But it’s more than the killing, it’s the thought that they’re one step closer to getting you.

Their prize.

Chief Jones brings in profilers from around the area but the bodies keep piling up and there’s no other choice but to call the FBI and Agatha gets wind that they’re sending in a profiler from the Miami branch, one who specializes in female serial killers.

Their plan works perfectly.

And you killing people in your sleep is just a pleasant surprise.

~~~

“What happens now?” You ask when Rio and Agatha finally break the hug that you’ve been standing in for what seems like hours. You immediately miss their warmth.

The two of them look at each other. “We leave,” Rio says. “We pack up all our stuff and hit the road and never look back.”

The plan makes you pause. “I can’t do that though, I’m in the FBI, I can’t just disappear off the grid.”

“Why not?” Agatha asks seriously. She raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re perfect for us, superstar.”

You’ve fucked up. You’ve fucked up big time. While you have the answers you’ve been searching for, you now wish you didn’t.

It was you. Somewhere, subconsciously, in your brain, you had wanted to understand why you had dropped the match that day and killed Evanora. A random woman, for no reason other than because you wanted to.

Is the answer because you’re just a killer?

No. That can’t be it. You refuse to accept it, because you’ve helped people, you’ve solved cases, you’ve caught the bad guys. You’re good. You can be good.

But Agatha and Rio are standing here like you’re everything you’ve ever wanted, murder and all.

It’s tempting.

You can’t. But you want to. But you can’t.

And then you remember that Tony should be getting into Westview right about now. Fuck. What are you supposed to do about him?

You can’t go back to Miami right now, so what other choice do you have? You nod your head slowly. “Okay. I just need to pack up my stuff.”

“You mean the stuff that we gave you?” Rio asks wolfishly. “Let’s go. We’ll drive.”

“I stole your car and it’s parked out front next to Agatha’s,” you remember and they chuckle.

Rio invades your space and reaches into your pockets, fishing around in them, and her proximity makes heat flood through you again. She winks at you when she grabs her keys and you blush.

“Let’s go then,” Agatha says, pulling you out the door and leading you to her car while Rio gets into hers.

The drive is quiet and you play with the lock until Agatha swats your elbow. It’s an uncomfortable silence to say the least, but you’re not sure exactly what to say.

She apparently doesn’t either.

Thankfully, it’s a short drive.

They follow you into your room and you kick aside the azaleas so you can walk back and forth easier between the bedroom and the living room to throw all your stuff into your suitcase. They go through the room like they haven’t already been in here multiple times.

“Thanks for her, by the way,” you say sarcastically, pointing to the dead body that’s still on your bed.

Rio snorts. “Agatha has a wicked jealous streak,” she says and Agatha throws a flower at her.

You’re almost completely packed and ready to go, feeling confident about your decision for the first time, when there’s a knock on the door. You freeze and Agatha and Rio look at you.

“Y/N, open up! It’s Tony,” he calls from outside and you think your heart is going to explode. The air in the room has changed and you can feel their suspicions.

You look around for anywhere to hide them and then hiss at them to get in the bedroom. You had hoped you’d have more time before he got here. They squint at you, trying to figure out your game, but go in anyway.

The second the bedroom door closes, you let him in and his jaw drops.

“What happened in here?” He asks, taking in your suitcase and the flowers. What are you supposed to say? I’m skipping town with the serial killers and I just had sex with them and also I killed someone when I was ten years old and I’ve been murdering people in my sleep?

You don’t think that would go over well. So you decide to tell him a version of the truth. “The killers were here,” you say, your mouth suddenly so dry. “They’ve been taunting me, messing with my head.” All not a lie.

“I don’t care. We’re leaving. Get your stuff,” he orders and it’s clear you don’t have a choice.

You wonder if they’re listening to you. “Tony, please,” you say. “I can’t leave yet.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “And why the fuck not?”

“Because I know who they are,” you tell him, your voice dropping to a whisper in hopes that Agatha and Rio won’t be able to hear you. “I can get them. Please, just give me more time.”

He paces around, hands over his forehead like he can’t even stand to look at you. “You’re certain you can get them?”

“Yes!” You insist, leaving out the part about them being in the room next to you. You chant It’s not real in your head over and over again, like they’ll be able to read your mind. You just need him out of here and then you’ll go with them.

But then you hear a crash, the sound of glass breaking, coming from your bedroom and your heart drops. Tony rushes past you and throws open the door and –

“What the fuck!” He shouts and you dart after to explain why you have two women, two serial killers, in your bedroom, but they’re not there. Tony is talking about the dead woman on your bed.

Your head starts to spin as you take in the window that has been smashed with the chair and you look out it, desperate for a sign of them.

But there’s nothing.

Agatha and Rio are gone.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha x rio #agatha all along #agathario #agathario x reader #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal smut

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six-eyed-samurai · 6 months ago

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I've seen a lot of people who write Muichiro as someone who sort of forgets he's not dating you in the crush stage, but my take is that Muichiro actually forgets he's dating you and thinks he's in his crush era.

🌸He'll approach you suddenly, a couple times a month, with a serious expression and red cheeks, to confess his not-so-secret crush on you from since the day you both met, having forgotten he had already done so and you both were already together

🌸You usually just go along with it until he gets to the "I hope you feel the same but I'll understand if you don't" part; then you break it to him with a shy laugh that he had already confessed and you both were going out

🌸It's not tiring at all to keep repeating the same scenario, not at all! Muichiro is so cute when he does it, unconsciously pulling an innocent puppy expression and staring at you hopefully. And when he remembers you both are a couple he'll immediately light up ever so excitedly, attack you in a hug, press his forehead against you and apologize in a flurry of "Sorry" and compliments

("How did I manage to pull someone like you?" He wonders out loud. You laugh - he's too cute for his own good.)

🌸Not only that it's honestly become a guessing game with you to see what method Muichiro would confess to you again this time. You both have approximately cycled through confession by love letter, gifts (he might've stolen it forgetting it belonged to someone else, but it's the thought that counts, right?), cloud-gazing date, outright declaration, jealous blurt...yeah, you've gone through every single trope there was possible

🌸Your favorite one was when he threw an airplane across the room to you and when you unfolded it he wrote a little sweet confession. You still have it, along with the rest he started throwing to you to 1. get your attention 2. annoy you 3. ask you to join him for training or cloud-gazing

🌸 You've told him multiple times it's okay if he wants to stare at you anytime he likes after catching him doing it one day, like he did when he was in his crush phase, but he forgot and acts like he just got caught performing the most atrocious crime on earth: looks away immediately and vehemently denies it

🌸Everyone around you guys thinks it's super funny and adorable how Muichiro would start talking about you and abruptly end it with something like "Is this what people mean by having a crush?" or "I would really like to be her boyfriend someday if I manage to confess and she accepts." As said above he gets really puppy-dog excited when he's told "Aren't you guys dating already?"

("We are?" Muichiro frowned. "I don't remember..." His eyes widen. "So that's who left me that daikon today..." Then he runs off forgetting he's in the middle of conversation to go find you.)

🌸Sometimes it's a little awkward when it comes to dates though. Say there's a festival happening in a nearby town or White Day and you've been planning to spend the day having fun with him - Muichiro's going to forget you're both together and be too shy to ask you out despite that's all he's thinking about. Then you have to remind him, or someone else triggers it.

("I'm so sorry I didn't ask you!" Muichiro pushed a small box of chocolates towards you. "I got you this as an apology if it makes up for it? We'll do anything you want for tonight if you want?)

🌸It's always funny when Muichiro gets sulky or starts moping around when he hears about your boyfriend and how you're gushing over him because he forgot it was him. You like to tease him about it by listing out all the qualities you like about him and the usual praise until Muichiro asks who it is, his jealousy quite obvious.

("You, dummy!"

Muichiro blinked, then groaned, grabbing onto your side and looking up at you pathetically. "Don't play with me like that!")

🌸Of course it's not all fun and games. If this is before he met Tanjiro and regained his memories he can be pretty cold to you when he doesn't remember about your relationship, leading to a lot of things you both have to talk through after a fight.

🌸Worse case scenario is that he still remembers you as a crush, but decides that instead of confessing like before he ought to push you away before you became a weakness, a distraction...someone he'd lose.

🌸After he gets back his memories and becomes more like his old self however, he doesn't forget your relationship anymore, meaning to make up for all the times he did. In fact he flexes it, wanting to tell everyone about the both of you all the time to the point your default face is now "extremely flustered".

🌸Especially when he's jealous, actually.

("I heard that (y/n) has a crush though, do you really think you still stand a chance?"

Muichiro whipped his head around at the sound of the two slayers gossiping in the corner during a break from his training. A slight crease forms between his eyebrows and he decides to go a little harder on them later.

"Nah, it's fine! I'm a hundred per cent confident she'll say yes as long as she isn't dating anyone!"

"But I heard she is," a third slayer joined in, leaning closer conspiratorially. "A Hashira, actually."

The guy in question bursts out laughing. Scumbag. "As if! Don't be so stupid. She's already lucky she could get MY attention."

"Who would want a stupid mizunoto like you?" Muichiro smacked the slayer with the flat of his blade expressionlessly. The other two yelped and scrambled back. "For your information (y/n) got my attention - and now you have mine: go run ten laps around the Estate and if I hear you defile her name again I'll make it a hundred."

He blew a raspberry at the poor wretch as he ran past.)

#Sunny's works #had this thought in my head for a while now #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #muichiro x y/n #muichiro tokito x y/n #muichiro x you #kny x reader #muichiro tokito x you

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rosyhoneydew · 2 months ago

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Bucktommy sickfic | G | 722 words

When Evan sits up around 5:50 Tommy knows he's given up on trying to fall back asleep. He's been tossing and turning for the last hour or so, and trying his best to muffle the sounds of his coughing in the pillows, with little success.

Tommy rolls over and leans up on an elbow, rubbing at Evan's back. He's got a faraway look on his face like his head's feeling slightly fuzzy.

"You feeling okay?"

Evan sniffles and clears his throat lightly. "Yeah." It comes out like a croak and Tommy winces in sympathy. His voice sounds raw and creaky, and not just because it's the first he's spoken all morning.

This isn't really a surprise. Chim had warned the two of them about cold and flu season starting up at Jee's school - not that it ever really ended - so they'd known they were bound to pick up something with all the baking they'd been doing together. Tommy can't wait to have kids, hopefully someday soon, but the germiness will take some getting used to.

Tommy gets up fully, swinging his legs out of bed and grabbing his glasses from the nightstand. He moves to head out into the hallway.

"I think I've got some NyQuil still, it's the capsules though… you're good with swallowing pills, right?"

"Uh, wait, that'll just-" he cuts himself off with a coughing fit. It's dry, but it sounds painful. It's the kind that takes him a minute to get under control again. "That'll just make me more tired," he gets out eventually. "I've got a shift in a few hours."

Not like this, you don't.

"Evan…"

"Tommy," he throws back, petulant.

He and Evan have been together just under a year now. They've been living together for 3 months. They've said 'I love you' and talked about marriage; and if there's any one thing Tommy has learned in this time, it's that his boyfriend wouldn't willingly take a day off work if he were on his deathbed.

He sighs and pauses in the doorway. "Alright, why don't you call Bobby when he's up," he suggests. "See what he has to say about you going in this morning. I'll get you some medicine in case you change your mind."

"Fine," Evan concedes the point, reaching for his phone.

Tommy shakes his head, smiling a little at Evan's stubbornness. He makes his way to the kitchen, snaps off a packet of the blue gel-filled pills, and fills a glass with water from the fridge. It's still dark out, but it's starting to get the kind of green-gray hue of morning light, so he takes just a minute to peek out the window at it.

He's still standing there when he hears footsteps plodding behind him. He gets about a twenty-second heads up before Evan thunks his head onto the center of Tommy's back.

"You get a hold of him?"

"I'm not even that sick," Evan groans. He follows it up with a large, wet sniff that betrays his statement.

Tommy hums and reaches back to thread his fingers in Evan's hair, twisting his head to lay a quick kiss on his temple, contagion be damned. His skin feels hot and Tommy revisits his task of getting some meds in him to break the mild fever and hopefully let him get a little more rest. Thankfully, with the hopes of work dashed, he swallows them down without complaint, nibbling on a few crackers to settle his stomach too.

"Go lay back down, sweetheart, I'll be right there," Tommy says when he's finished.

Evan grumbles a bit but heads back to the bedroom. He's a little wobbly on his feet, and still soft-looking from bed. Tommy can't help but get distracted watching him. There's a fondness that's been present in his chest since they first got together, and it swells in him now. It's almost alarming, the way that it can take his breath away in these moments. Once he hears Evan settle back into bed he shakes himself and clears the counter.

When he enters the bedroom he finds Evan asleep already, snoring softly. He can't help but drop another kiss on his sweaty forehead, thinking of how lucky he feels to be the one caring for this man. In sickness and in health, he thinks and slips under the covers.

Happy first day of November! My goal this month is to write at least 2k words every day, so here's the first 700+ I wrote: a teensy tiny BT ficlet.

#bucktommy #911 abc #my ficlet #tevan #kinley #bobby nash early riser is real to me #also this is mostly practice because I have not been on my A game lately tbh

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callsignfoxy · 8 months ago

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Blue-collar!Simon who goes to the same restaurant every day for lunch, ordering the same thing, but today he takes note of you, the new server, and you strike up a conversation.

Fem!reader POV Word Count: 1079

"___, is it? Uh, thanks for gettin' this out to me so quickly," he grunts as his eyes meet yours.

You intended to turn away to attend another table when you heard him speak and met his gaze. Oh, so he does know how to talk, you thought humorously, turning more of your attention onto him. The first time you met the large man sitting in the booth was a couple of days prior, and you had tried your best to do your waitress thing.

Flashing your bright smile that usually did well. Even commenting on the weather and trying to make conversation. He gave his order, and then all you received in response were short nods, a few grunts, and barely veiled annoyance. You backed off, assuming he just wanted to enjoy his meal alone. No harm.

Then, after yesterday, you had a sneaking suspicion that he may be the kind to order the same thing every day. After asking around, the other servers confirmed your theory. You took a risk today, and hopefully, it'd pay off. You may not want to do the waitress thing forever, but you were damn good at your job when it came to grumpy customers.

Smiling brightly, you tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your updo. "Yep, that would be me, and don't mention it. I figured that might be what you were ordering, so I thought, 'Why not?'" You chuckled. He nodded in response, and you really couldn't help yourself. "But, you know my name now; how about yours?" You inquired, trying to make small talk.

Simon leaned back into the booth, taking you in more before responding. "Simon," he stated simply, his voice like gravel. It softened slightly as he added, "Was a damn clever move, puttin' in the order early." His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, suggesting a slight smile you couldn't see behind his black mask. "You always this attentive with your tables?"

"Ah well, when you work in the business for a while, you pick up a thing or two," you explained with a self-assured smile while pouring his tea into a mug. You took him in for a beat; his light-wash jeans were covered in concrete dust, and his white t-shirt had multiple oil stains, among others. The black mask was odd, but plenty of people wear masks out and about these days. Your eyes trailed subtly to his forearm tattoos, but you didn't linger. "You part of that crew building that new skyscraper down the way?" You asked curiously.

"Aye, that's us," he confirmed, the pride in his profession evident even through the stoic delivery. "Construction site manager for that project. It's been a right sod to keep on schedule with all the weather we've been havin'." His hand gestured vaguely to the window beside him, where the rain was still coming down in buckets.

"Should be a right monster of a building once it's done, though. Can see it from miles away," he added, a bit of admiration and pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Sounds like quite the task, being a manager of such a large project and team," you commented, raising your eyebrows. You'd held a manager position at your last serving job and even just that was a lot. You couldn't imagine the enormous undertaking of managing a whole skyscraper project.

"Like herdin' cats most of the time, but... bigger and a lot more swearing involved," he chuckled softly. When you joined him, it was like he realized he'd let the sound out and then cleared his throat. "But yeah, bloody nightmare somedays, but it's what I do," he finished.

"An' the rain?" you asked, gesturing to the window with your carafe. Simon rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated huff.

"The rain," he said glancing back out at the storm, "sure doesn't make the job any easier, but gives me an excuse to come here and get out of the wet for a bit." His eyes landed back on to you, the brown in them a little warmer than when he first came in.

You smiled, seeing that his shoulders relaxed slightly more. That alone was a job well done for you. "Well, glad to provide a little bit of respite," you said good naturedly. "I'll quit talkin' off your ear off though, and let you get back to your meal. Just call me out if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll be back with the check," You nodded with the tea carafe and turned away to attend your other tables in your section.

Simon, for his part, watched you turn, feeling your presence wane like a warmth he hadn't realized he was basking in for the moment. He tore his gaze away from you, the reality of his solitude trickling back in as he dug into the meal that had completely gone unnoticed until now.

"All done here?" You said, picking up his plate a little while later. "Just the check or would like some tea for the road?" You asked.

"Jus' the check, thanks," he said with decisiveness. It was your turn to nod as you fished the check out of your apron to place it on the table. You watched as Simon pulled his wallet out and placed the notes on top of the slip, not missing the extra he had added. he shifted out the booth and stood gazing down at you. "Thanks for the quick service, keep the change," he said in a gruff but appreciative tone.

"Just don' my job. The cook makes it real easy though. She whips up meals faster than you can blink," you joked with a chuckle. "So, Mr. Simon, same time, same meal tomorrow?" You beamed, returning his gaze.

Simon gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Same time, same meal." With that he headed towards the door, his footsteps echoing softly against the diner's linoleum floor. You watched him go, with a small smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Maybe there was more to Simon than just grunts and nods after all.

As you continued your work day, the interaction with Simon would pop up when your mind wasn't occupied, and you couldn't help but be curious about the masked construction worker that had graced your section. It was a curiosity that had you looking forward to tomorrow. Same time, same meal.

I'm thinking of doing more tandem POV going forward because I know that man had some thoughts. Would that be confusing? Idk, anyways, hope y'all enjoyed 😘

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 #call of duty mw2 #cod simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod ghost

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the-doomed-witch · 1 year ago

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COME HOME TO MY HEART

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You rekindle with a childhood lover, now on the other end of the world. The love is still passionate, vibrant, but just far away. So you go back to meet her. // based on Supercut by Lorde

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS + MEN DNI. phone sex, masturbation, long distance lovers meet up, fluff, a littttttleeee angsty, oral (both), fingering (both), strap-on (n receiving), squirting, light bondage, mostly reminiscent

Author’s Note: i’ve written a similar drabble with wanda before, but i wanted to write a complete one shot with infinity war nat bc why not 🤭

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

The room is dimly lit, almost completely dark, when you get a call from Nat at 3:00 a.m. There’s obviously nothing else she could possibly be doing right now, so a little sigh leaves your mouth as you prepare yourself to pick it up.

“Hey baby, w-” you attempt to ask her, but she moans loudly. Yes, she’s doing exactly what you thought before picking up her call.

“Y/N, I need you… your touch, your tongue… Ah-!” you listen to her closely, with a hint of redness flushing over your cheeks. You could vividly imagine the mess she would be making around her.

The sounds of her fingering herself stopped, and she asks you, “Wouldn’t you join me detka? Come along with me? Let me hear you say my name? Won’t you, Y/N?��

Your mouth was already dripping at the thought of her wanting your tongue, but a pool of slick formed on your cotton panties at the thought of touching yourself to her sounds. You’d never done anything of the sort before, but ever since Nat reconnected with you, it was hard to resist or deny the offer she just gave.

You put your phone aside, on the bedside table, as you take off your clothes. You make her listen to your own sounds of pleasure, all the way in a different country. You can hear her overflowing pussy, and her fingers. Dip, spread, and rub, and again. Every moment or so, she pleads your name, as if you were right there, next to her.

Realising that mere touching is of no use for you to get yourself off, you introduce a toy to the moment, conveniently handy inside your bedside table drawer. “God, Nat, I wish you’d be taking this right now, I’d be pounding into you. You would take me so well…” you narrate to her, fantasising her touch, as you align the toy inside of you.

On the other end of the line, Nat is already reaching her climax. Her breathing is staggered, and her hole sounds as heavenly as her chants of your name. She screams loudly as she comes, hopefully making a mess around herself.

Just listening to her has been giving you chills all over your body. And no sooner than you sense her releasing herself, you do it too.

After moments of mutual silence filled with panting and whining, the question slips out of your mouth,“Why are you so far away, Nat?”

“Why did you move away, Y/N?”

You have no answer that is satisfactory. “I almost forgot that it’s morning for you, you really wanted me to come over and take care, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t it obvious Y/N? I ache for you, crave your touch every single night, hoping you’d come back here someday. We could go on dates, kiss each other, fool around all day in my apartment…”

“Oh my sweet baby… I promise I’ll be there soon. And when we go out on dates, I’ll hold your hand, always. Okay?”

“You’re going to make me come again with all your sweet talk. But this time, I mean it. I want to be able to do everything with you, just how lovers do. I miss you. I miss you so much.” You don’t need her to explain, you become cognizant of how her fingers slipped inside of her again. “Y/N, I’m so wet for you, I wish you were here to see it, do something about it.” she says shortly before cutting the call.

You think it’s by mistake, so you ring her again. She doesn’t pick it up.

With a heart full of longing, you recall your brightest memories with her. Right from coming out to her, to stealing moments alone after the day at high school ended just to give each other a kiss. The time both of you went to prom together, despite all your classmates thinking that both of you did so because “you couldn’t get a nice guy”. But nobody except you two knew the joy of being together.

Natasha Romanoff was your whole life before you left the goddamn place. She was so sure of a future together, before a silent and apologetic breakup came along, followed by you moving out to an entirely different continent. You still remember the tears pooling up around her emerald like irises, and then you attempting to calm her down. Breathe in… 2,3,4. Breath out… 6,7,8 you taught her before leaving as a naive teenager.

A flashback of every subsided memory in your mind filled up your thoughts for the rest of the night. Your heartbeat increases as you think of what you have done for the two of you, and how it was only the most reasonable option given your circumstances. As a young love, you were wild and fluorescent.

But it’s been a few months since you found Natasha again, thanks to an exchange student in your university who turned out to be a mutual friend. And you wouldn’t commit those same mistakes this time.

— ✦ —

After three days of a monotonous routine, you call Nat several times abruptly. Of course, she is busy on the other side of the world, but there’s nothing more prime than your excitement today.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up!” you repeat to yourself till she actually picks up your call. “Y/N! You’ve been calling me aggressively, care to consider I’m at uni? What’s going on, is everything okay?” She sounds impatient. Not the impatient that you are feeling, but a rather frustrated one.

“Honey! Natty! I’ve got the best news for you!”

“Get to the point quickly! I cannot hold this call for long, my professor will be breaking my neck in half.”

“Mark the date Natty!! I’m just about to scream, oh my God! I love you! So much. Tell me that you love me too when I meet you at the airport, don’t forget to pick me up. I’m sending you the details of my flight, we’ll be walking around the town hand in hand in a few days!”

“Oh my God, Y/N. This is the best news I’ve heard, like ever! Fuck, I’m so going to cry, gosh. I lo-”

“No Natty! Say it when you meet me, I want to hear it in person. I can go for a week. Oh my God, there’s so much I need to do, bye! Take care.”

“Take care moya lyubov! See you soon.”

There’s a week left for you to catch your flight, but there's too much stuff to do. After all, it’s your home country and you will inevitably have to meet your family after years of no contact. That’s a fear, yes, but having Natasha by your side seemed soothing in a way.

Over the seven days, you cause havoc in your own apartment. Random calls with Nat throughout the day, going to university for the selected number of hours, bunking a few lectures to go and relieve yourself with what only Natasha could give you the best.

Definitely, there’s financing trouble to do, calculating the amount you’ll be spending, but you balance it all through with the help of your colleagues pursuing finance related majors.

From the depths of your wardrobe, you select the best pieces of clothing you have. Some bright, some in Natasha’s favourite colours, and some just a little provocative. There are an endless bunch of other things you want to carry but obviously, there’s a restriction on the weight of your luggage.

— ✦ —

“Babe, where are you? I can’t find you here. I’m at Gate 3.” you speak to Nat on call.

“Then what the fuck am I doing at Gate 2?! Wait I’ll have to run over to the other gate, I’m so fucking dumb!”

She turns to the other side, preparing herself to run off to the supposed gateway to find you. Suddenly, two arms grab her waist from behind, kissing her neck as you hold her in a tight embrace. “I was messing with you, love. I’m right here.” You whisper while planting kisses on her whole face as she giggles through your affection.

In the fullness of time, she pulls your face closer into a long awaited, and pined for kiss. Her tongue travels places inside your mouth as soon as you let her in, her hands pulling you impossibly close to her body.

Your hands stay gripping her back, entangled in her now-blonde hair. Your lips don’t depart till you’re both completely out of breath. “Before I forget to say it; I love you too Y/N! With my whole heart.”

“Seven years. Seven fucking years and you just taste the same kind of sweet, Natalia.”

She gives you a gentle smooch before replying, “And for seven fucking years I’ve waited for this. You’re here, you’re so here malyshka, my dearest!” Her muscular arms help you carry your heavy luggage, full of stuff you want to share with her.

She drives you around the city, reminiscing about places you both used to go to. “Wait, here comes the school! Can we please go inside? I want to take a look, it feels like I’ve missed years of stories I need to catch up with.”

You meet a few teachers from your childhood, many others have either left or retired. You meet Mrs. Agatha Harkness, who taught you history. She was the first adult you ever came out to, because you had met her wife Mrs. Wanda Maximoff several times in school.

She looked just the same, as if she were immortal. Agatha greeted the two of you with a cheerful glin, “What a lovely surprise have I got here! The two ladies; the secret high school sweethearts!” Both of you tensely blush at the addressal, and she teases the two of you again, “Your cheeks still redden just the way they did about a decade ago, oh my God!” She adoringly laughs at your innocent faces.

You find your secret spots in hidden staircases, near humongous trees, and the girls’ restroom. In the light of echoing your earliest happy moments, you kiss Natasha every time you find one of those places. The school is empty, since summer holidays are around.

Among other places in the city, you visit parks, cafeterias, and other sites you’ve been to with Nat ever since your childhood. From time to time, you recreate the past photos of the both of you.

You sit in the car after yet another round of wandering, tired of all the travel you’ve done today. You let out a sigh in the sharp afternoon sunlight. You haven’t rested in the last sixteen hours, but it’s been all worth it.

“I can’t imagine I get to say this today - Take me home, baby.” you tease her, tugging on her leather vest. The jacket you don’t understand for what godforsaken reason she still has on, in this summer heat.

Her apartment is a little cosy space, with hints of boldness here and there. Though there are spots recognizable from video calls and pictures, you’re surprised at the bigger picture that you hadn’t yet seen.

You never imagined her to be someone to hang artwork, but she has a few sapphic based paintings along the entrance corridor. You comment on the decoration, “Wow, I love how these are hanging by the entrance door. Someone could walk inside and just go like, ‘Natasha Romanoff. Badass, smartass, and girlkisser.’”

She chuckles at your little quip. Her bedroom is simple, not filled with many things, just some regular personal effects including photo frames. There were mainly pictures of her and Yelena, but some of them also had you photobombing the sisters.

“How’s Yelena?” you ask her, taking a seat by the bed.

“She’s alright. Like you, she doesn’t live here anymore. She goes around the world, teaching women about vigilance. I’m proud of what she does, but I wish she were here.”

“I was hoping I could meet her, we haven’t spoken in almost a decade. What about Bucky? Or Carol? Tony? All of our friends, you know.”

“Most of them left the city, and some, like you, left the country wholly. Bucky’s still here, he’s engaged to Sam. Bruce and Tony went to a science oriented institute. Carol comes around from time to time, to meet us. And well, Steve joined the military like he always wanted to. Everyone’s still in casual contact, except we miss you so much.”

“You know, we should be having a reunion someday. Not this time though, I think I’ll just meet a few people. Mostly, I want to be with you.” Your palm rests on the top of hers, fingers interlocking.

You let out another audible sigh, pushing yourself back into the bed. “You sound really dead beat, you don’t breathe out like this often. Do you want me to get you something Y/N?”

“I think I’m just facing jet lag, I’ll be fine in a day or so. But I could really use relaxation right now.”

She straddles your waist, moving strands of hair out of your face and tucking them behind your ears. “Then let me help you, detka.” Your lips part softly, signalling her to lean in. Instead, she places her thumb on your chin, making you suck on it. You close your eyes as they flutter, enjoying the feeling of her touch.

After a few minutes, she withdraws and gets her weight off your body. “May I?” she seeks your permission before proceeding. You nod at her in response.

She doesn’t pull down your pants immediately. Instead, her hands touch you over your pair of trousers. You cannot feel it as a direct contact with your skin, but it does tingle. A light tickle-like movement of her fingers traces your body, sending literal quivers and twitches from head to toe. Impatiently, you pull up your t-shirt and throw it away into a corner of the room. She unzips her shiny leather vest, only to reveal that there was nothing underneath this whole time. However, she doesn’t take it off her shoulders.

One flick of her hand, and your bra is unhooked. She covers your tits in her saliva with her sucking, biting and licking. You turn into a whimpering mess underneath her.

If she hadn’t cupped your core by pushing her hand down your trousers, you were sure you could’ve leaked your wetness onto the bed. “Fuck Y/N, who thought you’re going to be a dripping pool for me? You want me to fuck you so that you forget how to walk? Leave your legs sore? That’s what you want?” With every question, she spreads your juices up and down. She presses down on your clitoris harshly, “Answer me Y/N.”

“Mm” You give a string of incoherent mumbles as a reply. She unbuttons your pants and helps you take them off, to meet a sight of black lace barely covering any of your pussy. Natasha groans at the view, and decides not to pull them down.

She bends down to get to work as she lets two of her fingers hold the cloth aside. Her tongue rolls up and down and side, experiencing the full taste of your cunt. Every now and then, she pauses, leaves kisses, and moans into your slit, giving you shivers.

The room is filled with your screams, and sounds of your entire body heaving. Nat could sense the walls of your pussy clenching on her tongue. With a soft graceful tug on the bud, you squirt on her face, leaving you utterly embarrassed. “Oh my God baby, I didn’t know you were a squirter!” she says, excitedly. You get flustered as you misunderstand her words and push her away from your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shh. Give me one more, I love it when you do it.” She interrupts your whole line of thought with a kiss, and simultaneously pushing her fingers inside of you, ultimately curling them. Your legs writhe against her touch, as her hand moves faster.

You separate yourself from the kiss to scream when she touches a deep spot inside of you. Your response is enough for her to do it again, and again, and once again, till you release your juices. As soon as you do, she goes down to swallow it all, licking you and your pussy clean.

Throughout the climax, you leave scars on her body in the heat of the moment. Scars on her shoulders with your tight grip, on her back, and bites on her lips till they bled. “Look at me malyshka, look me in the eye when you come. You’re so tight for me, so good.” she says as she rides you through another orgasm, staring into your eyes with nothing but adoration.

You let your panties slip down, exposing Nat to an unfiltered heat. She slaps it hard before spreading it wide with her digits, rolling her tongue inside once again.

When she’s done abusing your poor clit, she massages your sweaty body, helping you relieve all the stress you’ve been facing with the jet lag.

“Nat,” you say, rubbing fingertips on her head in circular motions, “I love you. Let me return the favour, please?”

“Tomorrow. You’re so tired dorogaya, you should sleep. We can continue anytime.”

“Now.” you demand, rolling one of her nipples between your fingers. Her grip on the bed sheet intensifies as you stimulate her gently. “Y/N…”

You shred her of all her garments till she’s left only with her panties. You rub them over her drenched core, and pull them out too. You use them to tie her hands above her head, so that you could have the space all to yourself.

Her holes expand and shrink, waiting to be fucked by you. So you dip your fingers inside her, and pull them out fully, sucking on them for a taste, a nice and loud slurp. Your eyes meet hers, fingers still in your mouth, her hooded glaucous sight connected to yours.

Carrying a string of saliva on their way back in, you penetrate her once again. Pump in, pump out. Your thrusting gets more quick with every moan she lets out with your name on the tip of her tongue.

Something sparked your mind, so you get off the bed and poke around in your luggage. Back in the bed, hands tied, Nat screams at the lack of friction, squeezing her legs together for some sort of relief.

“I’ve wanted to use this on you since so long, baby.” you say as you return with a strap adorned around your waist. “Wouldn’t you like to take my big dick? Make a mess on it?”

You don’t give her time to answer and linger on her top before deciding to fuck her throat. You shove the toy inside, practically gagging the woman beneath you. When you find it satisfactory, you align the tip against her hole, slowly inserting it till you bottom out.

“Ah… feels so full Y/N-”

You start pounding into her vehemently, evoking the loudest of noises from Natasha. “You’re so fucking pretty Nat, taking it so well.”

The words of affirmation made her come hard, almost tripping her over. Beads of sweat roll down her tummy, the dimmed lights giving them a different glow. Just the sight of her was seductive at its finest.

Your movements keep going mercilessly, till you turn her around and plunge into her even more rapidly from the back. And just before she is about to come undone, you pull out and put your mouth to work.

She keeps on grinding against your face even after coming, just to feel you in the places she always needed you the most. The panties tied around her wrists tear apart with a single attempt from her, just because she wants to push your face further inside. You moan and occasionally breathe deep inside her pussy, driving her wild. A little pressure on the clit and she’s coming again. You lick her thoroughly clean, not letting a single droplet get to waste.

“Y/N… too much… please.” she begs you to stop and so you do, with one last taste of her delicate sweetness. You lay down next to her, on bed sheets covered in the liquids of pleasure and lust. While staring at the ceiling, she utters, “That was the best experience I’ve ever had and you’re the worst tease.”

“Can you really blame me though?” You wheeze at her comment, and turn towards her, the weight of your right leg on the top of her. Fingers find their way through her blonde hair again, scratching her scalp. “When did you choose to get rid of my favourite redhead?”

“You know it’s your favourite. What would have been the point if I never saw you again? I changed it a couple of years ago.”

“Not that I’m complaining, you look really hot as a silver blonde. If I didn’t know you and you walked up to me I think I would literally do whatever you asked me to.”

“Except you know me, and still do it.”

After what almost felt like an hour of comfortable silence, she cuddles you like a big spoon, which is highly unlikely of her. But you are not whining, you love the warmth of her body, and her soul.

— ✦ —

Fast forward to the last day of your stay. The two weeks you’ve spent with Nat have already come to an end, and you find it difficult to believe. You struggle to pack your belongings, in a reluctance to leave the place. But you need to prioritise some things.

On a long session of scrutiny with Nat, you decided not to visit your parents. You’ve had your fair share of trauma already.

She smiles at you throughout the day, but her eyes clearly convey, “Please stay.” You’re convinced that the departure is going to be harder than you imagined it, but you had no choice.

Before leaving her at the airport, you don’t stop kissing her. She’s almost out of her breath, but doesn’t spare a single moment. Evidently, she’s trying to hold on to every bit of you that she could keep with her.

There are tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, as she cups your face even more close. “Don’t leave, malyshka. I can't beat this pain again. Please stay.”

“You know I can’t, honey. You know that if I could, I would.” you begin crying yourself, too scared to forget what it felt like to hold her in your arms.

“Shh. Breathe in… 2,3,4. Breathe out… 6,7,8.” you teach her again, exactly how you did years ago, when you broke up with her.

She didn’t have it in herself to let go of her grip on you, but a warning announcement for the passengers had to do it. She tastes your lips one last time before letting you go, unsure of when she will ever get to do it again.

But she doesn’t ask you about you coming back. Natasha is, in all respects, confident that you would. The ring on her finger does it for her, as she waves goodbye.

On your flight back home, you’re sure you’ll be permanently moving back someday, the ring on yours does it for you.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #black widow

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ajalholland · 4 months ago

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House-husband Sephiroth x reader

In the quiet home, Sephiroth stared at the mountain of dirty laundry, his brow furrowing as he tried to sort the various colors and materials that lay before him. The mighty warrior had to accept that, in this new realm of housekeeping, he was nothing more than a bumbling beginner.

He picked up a shirt, its sleeves stained with some unidentifiable substance. He had tried to cook spaghetti for the boys, but his skills in the kitchen, much like his laundry sorting, left much to be desired.

Kadaj and Yazoo were walking down the hallway, bickering amongst themselves as they approached their father.

"Old man, we're boooored..." Kadaj whined, flopping onto the floor.

Yazoo rolled his eyes at Kadaj and crossed his arms. "Don't whine so much, Kadaj. It's annoying."

Sephiroth smirked as his two sons approached him, their usual banter a familiar sound to his ears. He continued sorting through the laundry, his hands working busily as he addressed them.

"Bored, are you? Well, I suppose I could use some help with this mountain of laundry." He gestured to the pile of clothes before them, the different colors and materials creating a chaotic mess. "And it's dad to you, Kadaj."

Kadaj looked at the pile of laundry and screwed up his face in disgust. "Ugh, laundry?! That's for sissies!"

Yazoo rolled his eyes again at Kadaj's childish outburst. "You're just saying that because you don't know how to do laundry."

Kadaj stuck out his tongue at Yazoo. "Am not! Shut up, loser."

The two of them were like two peas in a pod sometimes, Sephiroth thought. Always competitive, always trying to one-up each other.

"Well, whether it's for sissies or not, it still needs to be done," Sephiroth said, a hint of sternness in his voice. "Besides, it's a good life skill to learn."

He looked at Kadaj, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And stop calling your brother a loser. We don't insult each other in this house."

Kadaj folded his arms and pouted, crossing his arms. "But it's true! He is a loser!"

Yazoo shot Kadaj a glare, his eyes lighting up with irritation. "Yeah? Well at least I'm not a crybaby!" Yazoo snapped back.

Kadaj's eyes widened in anger, his face turning red. "I am NOT a crybaby! You're the crybaby!"

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache starting to form. These two were going to drive him insane someday.

"Enough, both of you," he said sternly. "You're siblings, not enemies. Fighting all the time isn't productive."

He looked at Kadaj and Yazoo, his expression firm. "And neither of you are losers or crybabies. Now, help me with this laundry, and no more fighting."

The boys looked at each other, then at Sephiroth, and then back at each other. "Fiiiiine," Kadaj grumbled.

Yazoo nodded in agreement, still looking annoyed. "Yeah, fine."

The two of them walked over to the pile of laundry and began sorting it into piles. Kadaj was still mumbling under his breath, clearly not happy about having to do housework.

Sephiroth watched as his boys began sorting the laundry, Kadaj being the less enthusiastic of the two. He knew they would complain at first, but hopefully, they would learn the value of housework in due time.

As the boys worked, Sephiroth thought about his days as a SOLDIER. Life had been much simpler then, with nothing but missions and battles to worry about. Sure, it was a hard life, but at least it made sense. But now... now he was a househusband, a role he never thought he would find himself in.

Sephiroth's thoughts were interrupted by a soft sob coming from the doorway. He looked up to see Loz standing there, his face red and his pants noticeably wet.

Sephiroth's expression softened immediately as he noticed Loz, his youngest son, standing in the doorway with tears running down his face. He immediately stood up and made his way over to him.

"Loz, what's wrong?" he asked gently, crouching down to meet his son's watery gaze.

Loz sniffled, his small body shaking with sobs. "I-I had an accident," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked up from the laundry they were folding, their faces registering surprise and then amusement at their brother's predicament. "Ha! You peed yourself again?!" Kadaj laughed, nudging Yazoo.

Yazoo smirked, "You're still just a baby, huh?"

Sephiroth shot Kadaj and Yazoo a stern look, silently scolding them for their reaction. They should not be laughing at their brother's accident.

He turned his attention back to Loz, his voice softening even more. "It's okay, son. Accidents happen. Let's go get you cleaned up."

He gently took Loz's small hand and led him away from his brothers, leaving them to continue sorting laundry.

Kadaj and Yazoo watched as their father led Loz away, their laughter not dying down.

Loz clung to Sephiroth's hand as they walked, his body still trembling. He was so ashamed of his accident. why do his brothers make fun of him? Is his father angry at him?

Sephiroth felt Loz's small hand trembling in his larger one, sensing his son's shame and fear. He knew how important it was to handle this situation delicately.

"Loz," Sephiroth said gently, his voice firm but kind, "it's okay. Really, accidents happen. No one is angry with you."

He knelt down to meet Loz's eyes, his expression earnest. "I understand it's embarrassing, but you don't need to worry. We'll make sure you get cleaned up and fresh clothes, and everything will be alright."

Loz looked up at his father, big tear drops still rolling down his cheeks. He sniffled and nodded, slowly starting to calm down a bit. But he still couldn't shake off the feeling of being a nuisance.

"I-I'm sorry," Loz mumbled, his voice small. "I didn't mean to. I don't know why I keep having accidents."

Sephiroth's heart ached as he heard the shame in his young son's voice. He didn't blame Loz for having accidents, it wasn't his fault after all. He knew his son couldn't help it.

"Loz, listen to me," Sephiroth said, his tone gentle but firm. "You don't need to apologize. But we need to find a solution. Can you tell me how it happened?"

Loz looked down at the floor, his cheeks turning red. "I-I was playing... And I... I just couldn't hold it," he admitted in a whisper. His lower lip trembled, feeling embarrassed and ashamed at the lack of control he has over his bladder.

Sephiroth nodded, understanding the situation better now. "I see. So you had an accident because you were too caught up in playing to notice when you needed to go," he said calmly.He gently placed a hand on Loz's shoulder, meeting his gaze. "It's okay. But you need to pay attention to your body. When you feel the urge to go, don't wait. Just pause your game and go to the bathroom. Okay?"

Loz nodded, his head still hanging low. He felt so embarrassed. "Y-Yeah, okay," he mumbled, still too ashamed to meet his father's gaze. Kadaj and Yazoo peaked around the corner.

Sephiroth glanced up at the corner where Kadaj and Yazoo were peaking and he shot them another stern look, silently reminding them not to tease Loz.

He turned his attention back to Loz, his expression warm and reassuring. "Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. Now let's go get you cleaned up."

Loz nodded again, his face still red with embarrassment. He held onto his father's hand as they continued walking towards the bathroom.

Kadaj and Yazoo quickly retreated from their spying spot.Sephiroth led Loz into the bathroom and guided him over to the tub, turning on the water and making sure it was the right temperature.

"Okay, Loz, you wait here for a moment. I'll go get you some clean clothes."

Loz nodded obediently and sat down on the edge of the tub. He tried to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, but they stubbornly continued.

Kadaj and Yazoo appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, holding a clean set of clothes. Kadaj handed them to Sephiroth, both of them looking sheepish.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at Kadaj and Yazoo's sudden presence, but he graciously accepted the clean clothes. He could tell that both of them felt remorse for their earlier behavior towards Loz.

"Thanks, boys," he said, his tone gentler now. He knelt back down to Loz's level. "Are you okay, Loz? Still feeling upset?"

Loz looked up at his father and nodded, his little body still shaking slightly with sobs. Kadaj and Yazoo stood a little awkwardly off to the side, their expressions now full of guilt and shame. They knew they had been making fun of their youngest brother but now, seeing him so upset, they felt like jerks.

Sephiroth's gaze flickered between the three of them, noticing the shift in Kadaj and Yazoo's behavior. It seemed like they had learned their lesson, seeing the effect their teasing had on their youngest brother.

He placed the clean clothes on the counter and then gently turned back to Loz. "Loz, take a few deep breaths," he instructed, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back.

Loz sniffled and did his best to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. The tears slowly stopped falling from his eyes and his shaking slowed down a bit.

Meanwhile, Kadaj and Yazoo fidgeted nervously. They didn't know what to say, feeling guilty for their earlier behavior.

Sephiroth continued to comfort Loz until his sobs settled down to sniffles, his breathing becoming slower and more even. "Loz, hop in the tub and wash off, we'll be right outside." Seeing that his son was calming, he turned to Kadaj and Yazoo.

"Boys," he said, his tone calm yet firm, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

Loz nodded and began undressing, slowly climbing into the tub.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked at each other, a nervous look in their eyes. They knew they were in trouble. They followed Sephiroth out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them, leaving Loz to have some privacy.

Once the bathroom door was closed, Sephiroth turned to Kadaj and Yazoo, his eyes meeting theirs with a stern look.

"Boys, what you did earlier was not acceptable. Teasing and laughing at your brother while he was having a hard time is not how we treat each other in this family," he said, his voice firm but not angry.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked down at the ground, shame washing over them. They knew they were wrong and that they had hurt Loz's feelings.

Kadaj spoke up first, his voice small. "We're sorry, dad... We didn't mean to make Loz feel bad... We were just... messing around."

Sephiroth nodded, his expression softening at Kadaj's words. "Doesn't matter, what you did was wrong either way. Loz is your brother, and you should treat him with kindness and respect. Do you understand?” He looked at Yazoo next, silently urging him to speak.

Yazoo looked up, meeting Sephiroth's gaze, his expression still full of guilt. "Yeah... We understand. We shouldn't have teased Loz like that, it was mean and wrong," he agreed, his voice also small.

Sephiroth nodded once more, satisfied with Yazoo's response. "Good. I expect better behavior from you two. You're brothers, you're a team. You should lift each other up, not tear each other down."

He paused for a moment, looking at both of them. "And I expect you to apologize to Loz as well. Can you do that?"

Kadaj and Yazoo both nodded, their faces full of remorse. "Yeah... We'll apologize. We promise," they mumbled in unison.

Just then, the bathroom door opened and Loz stepped out, his hair still a little wet, but wearing clean clothes.

Sephiroth smiled as he saw Loz walk out of the bathroom, clean and dressed. "Feeling better, Loz?" he asked, gently tousling the boy's damp hair.

Loz nodded, a small smile on his face. He was still embarrassed about his accident, but the bath had helped him feel a little better.

Kadaj and Yazoo, feeling guilty, approached their youngest brother. "Hey, Loz," Kadaj began, his voice sheepish. "We're sorry for making fun of you earlier."

Yazoo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we were being jerks. You don't deserve to be teased like that."

Loz looked up at his older brothers, his cheeks still flushed from the crying earlier. He could see the remorse in their eyes and knew they were being sincere.

"It's okay," Loz mumbled, his voice still small. "I forgive you."

Kadaj and Yazoo breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that Loz was forgiving them so quickly.

Sephiroth watched the scene unfolding, feeling proud of all three of his sons. It warmed his heart to see them apologize to each other and make amends.

He placed a gentle hand on both Kadaj and Yazoo's shoulders and spoke up. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it? When we make mistakes, it's important to apologize and try to do better next time.”

Kadaj and Yazoo nodded, their shoulders relaxing under their father's touch. They knew that they had done wrong and had learned their lesson.

"Yeah... We'll do better next time," Kadaj chimed in.Yazoo nodded in agreement. "And we promise to be kinder to Loz from now on."

Loz, feeling more like himself now, looked up at his brothers with a small smile. He could tell they were sincere in their apologies.

"Thanks," he said, his voice soft. "I appreciate it."

Sephiroth smiled at the scene, glad to see that his sons had made amends. He ruffled Loz's hair gently before addressing them all. "Now that that's settled, how about you help me get dinner ready before your mother gets home?"

Kadaj and Yazoo both perked up at the mention of their mother. They always wanted to make her happy and help out.

"Yeah, we can help," Kadaj exclaimed, a smile on his face.

Yazoo nodded in agreement. "We'll help you get everything ready for when Mom gets home."

Loz, still a bit embarrassed, mumbled a quiet agreement to help as well. "I want to see mommy happy."

Sephiroth chuckled at their eagerness, the boys always enjoyed spending time with their mom. "Alright then, let's get to work," he said, giving Loz a comforting pat on the head.

Over the next hour, the kitchen was bustling with activity as the four of them worked together to prepare dinner. From peeling vegetables to chopping lettuce, they all worked in sync, each one contributing their part to make the meal just right.

Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz immediately recognized a sound, their attention shifting to the front door.

"Mommy's home!" Loz exclaimed, running out of the kitchen towards the front door. Kadaj and Yazoo quickly followed, both of them equally excited to see their mother.

Sephiroth smiled at their enthusiasm, knowing how much his sons missed their mother while she was at work. He also missed her, of course, but it amused him to see the excitement in his boys.

He finished washing his hands quickly with some soap before heading towards the front door, where the sound of the boys' chatter was already getting louder.

By the time Sephiroth reached the front door, Loz and his brothers were already swarming around (Y/n), all of them talking at once. She was at the door, pulling off her shoes and taking off her coat, bombarded by the three boys.

"Mommy!" "We missed you!" "We made dinner!"

(Y/n) couldn't help but smile as her sons surrounded her, their excitement and energy practically overwhelming her. She knelt down, trying her best to give each of them the attention they wanted, patting their heads and pulling them all in for a tight hug.

"I missed you all too," she said, her voice warm and loving. "You guys have been busy, huh? Making dinner with your father?"

"Yeah!" Yazoo exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "We've been helping Dad cook. We peeled the vegetables and chopped the lettuce."

Kadaj chimed in, "And we made sure everything was perfect for you, Mom!"

Loz spoke up next, "We even got your favorite dessert for after dinner."

Sephiroth approached the doorway, watching with a smile as his wife interacted with their sons. He leaned against the wall, enjoying the scene before him. It was moments like this that made him grateful for the family he had.

"They were all very eager to help," Sephiroth said, his voice soft yet amused. "Especially when they heard you were on your way home."

(Y/n) looked up at Sephiroth, her smile widening at the sight of him. "I can see that," she said, her hand still in Kadaj's hair.

She chuckled, imagining the antics they had gotten up to in the kitchen, and the mess that must have been left behind. "I hope they didn't cause too much trouble for you," she added, her voice teasing.

Sephiroth shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "Not too much trouble. Just the usual amount of chaos," he replied, his voice equally cheeky.

"Hey! We didn't cause that much trouble!" Kadaj protested, pouting a bit. Loz and Yazoo nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we were just having fun!" Yazoo chimed in.

"We wanted to make you happy, Mommy," Loz added, a pleading look in his puppy-dog eyes.

(Y/n) chuckled at their protests, her expression soft and warm. "I'm sure you had fun," she said, tousling Loz's hair affectionately. "But I know you can be quite the troublemakers."

She stood up from her crouched position, looking at her sons with a loving smile. "But I appreciate your efforts to make me happy. You all did a great job."

Kadaj and Yazoo beamed at her words, preening under her praise. Sephiroth moved closer, wrapping his arm around (Y/n)'s waist as he spoke, "They were on their best behavior. Well, as best as possible for them, that is,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Loz, not wanting to be left out, tugged on (Y/n)'s shirt, "Hold me, mommy!"

(Y/n) laughed, leaning into Sephiroth's touch as he wrapped his arm around her. She turned her attention to Loz, who was pulling on her shirt.

"Of course, my little one," she said, scooping Loz up into her arms and holding him close. "Did you miss me that much?"

Loz nodded vigorously, snuggling into his mother's embrace. "Mhmm," he mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder.

Sephiroth chuckled, looking at the spectacle with a smile. "Where's my attention?" he said, his tone lighthearted. "I'd like that kiss you owe me."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes playfully, a small grin on her lips. "Oh, I see how it is," she teased, holding Loz a little more secure in her arms. "You want some special treatment too, huh?"

She turned to face Sephiroth, meeting his eyes with a smirk. "Can't a woman hug her child without being interrupted by her husband's demands?"

Sephiroth shrugged, feigning innocence. "I can't help it if I want a little affection from my beautiful wife," he said, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. "And the boys have been hogging you ever since you got home."

(Y/n) laughed, the sound warm and sweet. "You're such a drama king," she teased, shaking her head. "But I suppose I can spare a moment to give you some attention."

She leaned in, keeping Loz balanced in her arms, and gave Sephiroth a quick, playful kiss. "There, happy now?"

Sephiroth chuckled, pretending to pout. "That was barely a kiss," he complained, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile. "I think I deserve a little more than that."

Loz, still in (Y/n)'s arms, let out a soft giggle watching his parents banter.(Y/n) chuckled again, rolling her eyes fondly. "Oh, you're not going to let me get away with just a quick peck, are you?"

She shifted Loz in her arms, trying to balance him while still giving Sephiroth a proper kiss. She leaned in again, her lips meeting his in a more lingering kiss, holding it a few seconds longer before pulling back with a smile. "Is that satisfactory, you needy man?"

Sephiroth's eyes lit up with a satisfied gleam as she kissed him more properly this time. "Much better," he said with a smirk, pulling her a little closer against him by her waist.

Loz, squeezed between his parents' embrace, wriggled and protested, "Eww, gross!" Kadaj and Yazoo laughed, before darting off into the dinning room.

(Y/n) couldn't help but join in the laughter, chuckling as Loz protested being squished between her and Sephiroth. She ruffled his hair affectionately before turning her attention back to her husband.

"You're insatiable," she teased, her words lighthearted. "You have a one-track mind, you know that?"

She glanced towards the dining room, where the other two boys had darted off to. "Should we go check on them before they cause any mayhem?"

Sephiroth laughed at her comment. "You're one to talk," he replied, a smirk still playing on his lips. "And yes, we should probably make sure they're not ransacking the kitchen or starting a food fight."

He took a step back, his hand still on her waist, and nodded towards the dining room. "Lead the way, my dear."

(Y/n) smiled at Sephiroth's response, shaking her head in mock annoyance. She moved with him towards the dining room, still holding Loz in her arms.

She loved her family.

#ff7 #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy x reader #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #kadaj ff7 #yazoo #advent children #loz ff7

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ineffabildaddy · 1 year ago

Text

ineffabildaddy fic masterlist

all my fics are aziraphale/crowley🩵

you can read @bowtiepastabitch's analysis on some of the ways i explore queerness in my fics, with an excellent addition by @lalalunamoth, here!

i'm humbled to say that a few of my works have been recced by @fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic - you can read those posts here!

i have a ko-fi account where you can leave a tip here, if you're so inclined🩵

CURRENT WIPS

golly what a spirit (you can only hear it down on whickber street) (E, 5k so far, 1/2 chapters posted) - it's almost christmas eve, and aziraphale has been a total humbug all month long. crowley buys a potion from anathema that promises to get its users in the christmas spirit, and doses their bedtime tea with it. when they wake up the next morning, they have undergone some very magical and very festive transformations...🎅🏻🧝🏼

long time listener, first time caller (E, 22k so far, 4/7 chapters posted) - crowley is in love with the voice of aziraphale fell, late-night radio host, and the face of the handsome stranger he passes in the park every day. what will happen when he introduces himself, and when he has to choose between them? 📻 fic post here

wouldn't it be a lovely headline? (E, 12k so far, 4/? chapters posted) - close friends anthony j. crowley and azira fell are attending their first awards show for the film they recently co-starred in, whose sequel will only be made if they get enough public attention over the course of the weekend... how to garner this attention? why, pretend they're a couple, of course.🎬 fic post here

COMPLETED FICS

take me as your wife (E, 7.1k) - a chance romantic meeting between crowley and aziraphale in a country inn in the 1750s sets off a chain of chases and surrenders🍷fic post here

complementary colours (T, 5.7k) - post-canon. aziraphale moves into crowley's cottage in the south downs and decides to do a little detective work to learn something he's never known about the former demon - his favourite colour🔎🌈 fic post here

angel and ash (E, 5k) - with art by @wasleichtesart! crowley begins to frequent queer bars in london, presenting as a trans woman under the name ash. one night, she stumbles upon a trans man known as angel, whom she recognises immediately...🪩 fic post here

creature of mine (E, 21k) - with art by @omens-for-ophelia! aziraphale buys crowley a snake plant as a gift, whose scent triggers a naga transformation. big dick aziraphale gets stuck in🌺🎁 fic post here

you're a mirror i cannot avoid (E, 1k) - south downs domestic, erotic softness as aziraphale reassesses what it means to be himself🪞 Tumblr | AO3

in your own time (E, 33k) - human priest au set in tadfield, in which crowley and aziraphale are childhood best friends finally reunited. catholic school, apple trees, hogback wood, holy sex, and more⛪️ fic post here

Just Up The Stairs (E, 39k) - cowrite with @foolishlovers, art by @omens-for-ophelia! quiet, gentle and romantic neighbours human au featuring lots of music and harry the rabbit🐇 fic post here

close (well, you couldn't get much closer) (E, 1.4k) - post-ineffable divorce shenanigans featuring crowley using a replica model of aziraphale's penis, through which aziraphale can feel... well, everything❗️

I'm Beginning to See the Light (E, 22k) - gentle enemies to ardent lovers office christmas party human au which quickly devolves into body worship and gender-affirming sex - transmasc az, service top crowley🎄⚧ fic tag here

Despite Knowing Better... (E, 10.9k) - aziraphale and fem!crowley deal with the ineffable divorce by meeting in the bookshop once a week to fuck, while attempting to hold each other at arm's length. things get messy in the process...💔

Strawberry Scripture (E, 6.5k) - pwp oneshot. aziraphale and fem!crowley celebrate averting the apocalypse by playing with food, and with crowley's scales...🍰🐍

UNFINISHED FICS (hopefully someday!)

crosseyed and painless (E, 2.9k) - dom!az and fem!crowley pwp in which crowley has asked aziraphale to help her relax after a long day, and the results are not at all what she expects💦

Many Different Ways to Eat an Oyster (E, 6.5k) - aziraphale and crowley meet in ancient rome, where crowley admits that he's a virgin. aziraphale sets about putting this to rights immediately🦪

FICLETS, POEMS ETC.

i have waited (M, 0.4k) - poem in which crowley ponders how he has waited for aziraphale over the millennia🕰 Tumblr | AO3

core of a clementine (E, 0,5k) - touch-starved crowley explores the sweet torture of aziraphale's seemingly innocent, mundane actions🍊 Tumblr | AO3

you're so golden (E, 0.9k) - while coupling under cover of night in the garden of eden, crowley discovers that aziraphale has golden stretch-marks. and they aren't the only part of him that's golden...✨ Tumblr | AO3

Only in Dreams (E, 0.5k) - post-season 2 aziraphale pov musings, as he hopes to visit his lover in dreams, if not in the waking world🌫 Tumblr | AO3

Blasphemy (E, 0,4k) - crowley muses about holiness, blasphemy, and how they interact with sex with aziraphale✝️ Tumblr | AO3

Do You Remember? (E, 0.8k) - aziraphale reflects on his first time with crowley - a time in which "they aren't talking" post-season 2💘

Flecks of Stardust (G, 0,2k) - a love poem from aziraphale to crowley🖋 Tumblr | AO3

I Know (E, 0.7k) - crowley reckons he knows exactly how aziraphale wants him... 🌅 Tumblr | AO3

Solitude (G, 0,4k) - supreme archangel aziraphale reminisces on his encounters with crowley through the ages ⌛️ Tumblr | AO3

Please Touch Me (E, 0,5k) - touch-starved crowley reflects on the kind of connection he wants with aziraphale 💭 Tumblr | AO3

#good omens #fanfic #ineffabildaddy #pinned

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smutinlove · 6 months ago

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Hello! I hope you are doing well.

I just read the rules for requests post and I wonder if I can send one. Hopefully, this is alright... Would you mind if the reader was non-binary? Not sure I can ask that so I'll leave it to you.

I kinda really wanted to read Jason and reader being best friends, and reader and Jason going to an amusement park with other friends. Whether friends and bestie/reader know about Jason's identity as Red Hood is up to you.

Reader wants to go to the haunted house attraction, but since they're easily frightened, they always avoid going on one. But they really want to have the experience someday, because even though it's scary, other people seem to have fun.

Maybe Jason sees that and decides to drag Reader and their friends inside, and they all have a grand time, because Jason is scarier than the actors. 😆

—hope i did this right!

•non-binary reader. (i really hope i did this right otherwise im cooked)

•no use of y/n, she/her, he/him for the reader (if there is let me know!!!)

•i've never been to an amusement park so idk if i got any of the amusement park shit right

The scars on his face and arms had slowly started to fade, but they were still there. It showcased what Jason Todd, your best friend had, been through.

He had died and then was reborn, shocking you especially. And later on, you found out about his identity as Red Hood. But that didn't matter. Today is supposed to be a fun day full of adventure and excitement.

The sun hit Jason's face, causing him to blink rapidly. "Idiot," you muttered. He rolled his eyes playfully. "Whatever," he said, digging into your bag of popcorn while your friends laughed.

You and the others continued to stroll around the amusement park. As you and your friends went deeper into the park, you noticed a giant medieval-themed haunted house with a sign that read, "FREE FOR TWO HOURS!"

You wanted to go. But it looked terrifying. There was a man dressed up as Dracula taking pictures with tourists outside the haunted house. He looked terrifying.

You gulped as you tried to lead Jason and your friends away from it. But then Jason uttered the most jaw-dropping words ever. "Hey, there's a haunted house! Let's go," Jason said. He grabbed your hand and led you and the others right to it.

Jason opened the door and motioned for you and your friends to go. "Scared, Todd?" you challenged. "We'll see." He winked and went in after you.

The interior of the haunted house was scarier than the exterior. There were cobwebs everywhere. It was dark, and there was only one way. Straight.

There was a curtain. Jason, being the brave soul he was, slid the curtain. Someone dressed up as a skeleton jumped up and screamed in Jason's face.

Jason stared at the "skeleton," totally confused, before chuckling. "Funny," he said. The "skeleton" gulped. Jason pushed past the skeleton, venturing further into the haunted house. You and the rest of your friends followed behind him; some were already terrified but also trying not to laugh.

As you, Jason, and the others ventured further, the walls became more closed in, making you feel trapped. You heard a creak and gasped. The lights started flickering. Jason laughed.

"A little trick. I bet a fake spider or a vampire will pop out any second now!" Jason declared, running a hand through his hair. You and the others murmured "okays" and "whatevers."

And sure enough, when Jason turned a corner, you heard a scream and rushed in front. Jason stood there, laughing as the man dressed as a zombie fumbled to get up, and he looked terrified of Jason. Soon, you and the others burst into fits of laughter.

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

yayy

it's not my best work

it's been sitting in my drafts for a week or something but oh well

anyway it's pretty obvious that i've never been to a haunted house or an amusement park... #poor

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bunnakit · 1 year ago

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last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #im soooo fuckin sleepy after making this but i still have to work #someone come make me tea and gimme a little kith

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