#vibrant veils | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inupibaldspot · 7 months

Text

Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk imagine #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo x y/n

4K notes · View notes

diejager · 10 months

Text

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention.

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes.

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument.

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body.

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail.

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him.

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight.

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours.

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures.

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you.

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home.

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him.

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him.

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty.

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind.

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition.

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to.

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition.

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you.

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live.

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much.

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures.

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room.

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making.

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal.

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue.

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave.

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him.

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying.

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh.

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back.

“You’re happy, ja?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan

4K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 10 months

Text

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal. There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

4K notes · View notes

felassan · 3 months

Text

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - locations

"PLACES YOU'LL VISIT Enter Thedas, a vibrant world of rugged wilderness, treacherous labyrinths and glittering cities."

"Rivain A country surrounded by glistening waters where The Chantry has little sway. The Lords of Fortune call Rivain home. Arlathan Forest Once an ancient Elven city, now overgrown ruins riddled with magic. The Veil Jumpers work to uncover its secrets. Minrathous The capital of the Tevinter Imperium and one of Thedas’ most ancient cities. The gap between rich and poor is stark. Coming soon More locations coming soon."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #biowar #video games #long post #longpost

1K notes · View notes

theinnerunderrain · 5 months

Text

The earth destroyed itself [Yan! Capitano x Fem! Reader]

Warnings: yandere themes, minor character death, brief description of violence, Capitano and reader are married and have a son.

"...What have you done?"

You stood at the entrance of the throne room, your heart sinking as your eyes fell upon the scene before you. Your beloved husband, bathed in the flickering light of the candles that lined the walls, stood over the lifeless body of your eldest son. His hands were stained with blood, a sword clutched tightly in his grasp. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the torches and the sound of your husband's heavy breathing. You felt a wave of disbelief wash over you, followed by a deep sadness that seemed to seep into your bones.

You took a tentative step forward, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke again, "What have you done, my love?"

The word 'love' slipped from your lips like a fragile whisper as you took another hesitant step towards him, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest. Capitano remained silent, his gaze reluctantly leaving the lifeless form at his feet to meet yours, though his expression remained veiled by the helmet he always wore. Another eerie moment of silence stretched, the air thick with unspoken words and heavy with grief. You gathered your courage and stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the lifeless form of your son. His hair, once a vibrant hue, now marred by blood, framed his pale face, his eyes closed in eternal rest.

"What have you done?"

You inquired once more, your voice unwavering, as you hastened toward your son and knelt by his side. His blood seeped into the fabric of your white dress as you cradled his lifeless form, delicately brushing his hair from his eyes in a desperate bid to find a glimmer of vitality. Yet, his eyes stared back at you, vacant and hollow, his lips frozen in a silent plea, tears tracing lines down his once-rosy cheeks.

Capitano stood in solemn silence, his grip on the sword unwavering, before he spoke, his voice carrying a quiet resolve despite the heart-wrenching scene before him.

"It was an inevitability."

"What are you even talking about...! How could you do this? He's...he's our son!"

Your voice trembled, momentarily finding resolve, as you cradled your son's head against your chest. Tears teetered on the brink, poised to cascade down your cheeks, as you clung to him, reluctant to release his form. Amidst this tragic tableau, a narrative of his making, Capitano could not help it find you to be a vision of ethereal beauty.

"He was deemed dangerous. The prophecy forewarned of his tyrannical future, predicting he would pose a threat to your life."

He attempted to explain, dropping to his knees and reaching for your arm, yet you brushed him off as though he were tainted. You regarded him, lips pressed in a firm line, eyes brimming with a blend of sorrow and disbelief for the man who was once your beloved.

"A prophecy...? How could you entrust our son's fate to such a thing...?"

Your tone held a note of incredulity as you let out a bitter laugh, struggling to accept the rationale behind his actions.

"I couldn't risk endangering your life..."

He attempted to reason, but you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the air.

"So you chose to sacrifice his life instead..? How could you commit such a grievous act..?"

Your words, though laced with sorrow and accusation, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken questions. They resonated in the chamber, filling the space between you with a palpable tension, like the charged air before a storm. Capitano remained on his knees, his gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable behind his stoic facade. He felt the weight of your words, each one a dagger that pierced through his resolve.

"[First Name]..."

He called out your name with a soft yet commanding tone, reaching out to grasp your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you closer despite your desperate struggle. Your son's lifeless body slipped from your grasp, falling to the cold floor in a pool of his own blood as you wailed and cried, yearning to hold him once more. Capitano stood steadfast, allowing you to scratch and scream at him, though your efforts were feeble in his grasp. He remained unmoved, understanding the depth of your anguish.

"Let go of me..!"

In the aftermath of your son's death and your husband's betrayal, you found yourself overwhelmed with weariness and sorrow. Your futile struggles ceased as you surrendered to a wave of tears, the weight of the tragedy washing over you. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, your hands and knees stained crimson from the tragic events. Despite the wrongness of seeking solace from the man who had caused you such pain, his presence offered a strange sense of comfort in the midst of your grief and shock. Capitano's embrace was a gentle dance, a fleeting touch that spoke volumes of tenderness and restraint. In the depths of your sorrow, he stood as a silent sentinel, a pillar of strength amidst the tempest of your grief. His touch, like a soft breeze, caressed your pain, offering solace in the midst of your anguish.

After what seemed like an eternity, you gathered the strength to speak through your tears, your voice a fragile whisper echoing in the hallowed silence of the room, your words simple yet causing his heart to drop upon hearing it.

"You're nothing but a disgusting traitor to me, may you suffer for the entirety of your life and onto the next one."

2K notes · View notes

unboundprompts · 2 months

Note

hi!! i was wondering if you could do something that was similar to ‘how to describe hair colors’? kinda like how you did the eye color one? it’s alright if you can’t but thank you in advance either way :)) 💕

Different Ways to Describe Hair Colors

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Blonde Hair Descriptions:

She had hair like the sand on the beach, and it reminded him of home. Of long summer days and the music his dad used to play for him.

His hair was like sunlight spun into silk.

Their hair reminded her of fields kissed by morning sun, or the gentle glow of a candle's flame in the evening.

Brown Hair Descriptions:

Her hair was a tapestry woven with earth's hues.

His brown hair resembled the deep, mysterious tones of a forest at twilight, where shadows play among the trees.

As the light touches it, their brown hair shimmers with hints of copper or amber, reminiscent of autumn leaves ablaze in the sun's last rays.

Black Hair Descriptions:

Her black hair was like a midnight veil, absorbing light and drawing you into its depths.

His hair was like a night sky adorned with stars.

Their hair shimmers like a raven's wing, catching glints of iridescence.

Red Hair Descriptions:

Each strand of her hair is a brushstroke of copper, auburn, and gold, intertwining to create a vibrant mosaic that captures the essence of a sunlit forest in fall.

His red hair evoked the warmth of a crackling hearth on a winter's eve.

Their hair flows like molten copper, radiant and alive with energy.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to describe hair colors #hair color description #hair description

582 notes · View notes

elenawritesxx · 8 months

Text

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

PAIRING - bucky barnes x reader

SUMMARY - bucky cant help but get jealous at stark’s party as he watches you interact with the others, because all he wants to do is kiss you then and there

WC - 1,1k

EXTRA - one use of y/n, bucky being jealous and overprotective, stark being a smartass,

NOTES - hi angels, if i made a patreon where i would update regularly with longer fics and answer your asks quicker, would anyone support me there too?

PS. - english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes please don’t hesitate to point them out:))

—

the rhythmic pulse of music filled the opulent halls of stark tower, the vibrant lights casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the dance floor. tony stark's parties were legendary, a whirlwind of glamour, extravagance, and hedonism. yet amidst the glittering throng of guests, bucky barnes found himself feeling distinctly out of place.

clad in a sleek suit that hugged his muscular frame, bucky stood at the edge of the room, his steel-blue eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of wariness and apprehension. his grip tightened around the crystal tumbler in his hand as he watched the scene unfold before him.

amidst the sea of revelers, his gaze inevitably found its way to you, the object of his affection and the reason for his unease. you moved with effortless grace, your laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the voices.

bucky's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched you interact with the other guests, a swarm of admirers vying for your attention. he knew he had no right to feel this way—no claim over you—but the sight of other men hovering around you like vultures sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through his veins.

"hey there, buckaroo," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and bucky turned to see tony stark himself sauntering up to him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"enjoying the party?" tony asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sipping on his own glass of champagne.

bucky forced a tight smile, the tension in his jaw betraying his true feelings. "yeah, it's a real blast," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering back to where you were standing across the room.

tony followed his line of sight and chuckled knowingly. "ah, i see. keeping an eye on y/n, are we?" he teased, nudging bucky playfully.

bucky bristled at the implication, his jaw clenching in frustration. "she's just a friend," he muttered through gritted teeth, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

tony raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock disbelief. "right, just a friend," he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "tell me, barnes, do you always look at your friends like you want to devour them whole?"

bucky's cheeks flushed crimson at the implication, a surge of guilt mingling with the simmering jealousy in his chest. he opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, a commotion erupted across the room.

a group of boisterous guests had gathered around you, their laughter ringing out like a chorus of bells. bucky's heart plummeted as he watched a particularly persistent admirer step too close for comfort, his hand lingering on your lower back.

without a second thought, bucky was striding across the room, his jaw set in a steely resolve. he reached you in a matter of seconds, his presence looming over the other man like a thundercloud.

"is there a problem here?" bucky's voice was low and dangerous, a warning laced with thinly veiled menace. winter soldier coming through for a second.

the other man recoiled at the sudden intrusion, his eyes widening in surprise. "n-no, no problem at all," he stammered, taking a hasty step back.

bucky's gaze never wavered from yours as he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "come on," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos of the party. "let's get out of here."

you nodded wordlessly, your heart pounding in your chest as bucky led you away from the crowd, his protective presence a shield against the world outside.

as you slipped away into the quiet solitude of the night, the tangled web of jealousy and desire that had ensnared you both seemed to unravel, leaving only the fragile threads of something deeper—a connection that transcended words and boundaries, binding you together in ways neither of you could fully comprehend.

the cool night air greeted bucky and you as the two of you stepped out onto the balcony, the cacophony of the party fading into the distance behind you. bucky's grip on your hand remained firm but gentle, a silent reassurance in the darkness.

"i'm sorry," you murmured, breaking the tense silence that hung between them. "i didn't mean to cause a scene back there."

bucky shook his head, his expression softening as he turned to face you. "you didn't do anything wrong, angel," he replied earnestly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "i just couldn't stand seeing you surrounded by those assholes."

a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, gratitude warming your heart at his words. "thank you, bucky," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "for always looking out for me.

bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in your eyes, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. "always," he vowed, his voice filled with quiet determination.

for a long moment, the two of you stood together in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind against the city skyline and faded music coming from the party. the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air.

then, without warning, something came over him, and bucky's hand cupped your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the world around you fading into obscurity.

he waited patiently for you to move away form him, to give him a sign that this wasn’t what you wanted, but you stayed still, waiting for him to finish what he started.

and then, with a soft exhale, bucky closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled. it was a moment of pure vulnerability, a silent confession of the feelings that had long simmered beneath the surface.

as you finally pulled away, not because you wanted to, but because you had to take a breath, the world seemed to shift on its axis, the weight of uncertainty replaced by a newfound sense of clarity. in each other's arms, the two of you found solace amidst the chaos, a beacon of light guiding them through the darkness.

"i don't ever want to lose you, precious," bucky whispered, his voice barely audible above the whisper of the wind.

you smiled softly, your heart overflowing with emotion as you pressed closer to him, seeking refuge in his embrace. "you won't," you promised, the words a vow etched in the depths of your soul. "i'm right here, bucky. Always. and i dont plan on going anywhere anytime soon."

and as you stood together beneath the starlit sky, your intertwined hands a symbol of the unbreakable bond that bound you two together, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that defied all odds.

#fanfic #x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #mcu x reader #tony stark #mcu bucky barnes #tony stark’s party

1K notes · View notes

httpswritings · 4 months

Text

if you were my little girl: the series part 2

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

Silent Guardian

The days blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But there was a new element to your routine – Alexia. True to her word, she started attending your training sessions, a silent guardian on the sidelines. Your heart would skip a beat every time you saw her, a jolt of encouragement coursing through you with each approving nod.

The facade held. Your parents, wary of an audience, behaved with a semblance of normalcy in public, so Alexia's suspicion of you being in danger faded.

Every goal you scored, every perfectly weighted pass, was a victory not just on the scoreboard, but over the darkness that lurked within your home. Alexia's cheers, a joyful eruption amidst the roar of the crowd, were a balm to your little but damaged self.

Alexia couldn't help but watch you closely. The way you reacted to the world, how certain things seemed to touch you more deeply than others, it tugged at her heart. It wasn't a weakness she saw, but a tenderness that made her want to stand between you and anything that might cause you pain.

Silence Breaks the Bond

The months blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But on the sidelines of your victories, a different reality waited. Your parents, physically present, were emotionally absent. Empty lunchboxes on the counter remained a daily reminder of their disinterest, a stark contrast to the cheers echoing from the training grounds.

They didn't care about your school life neither did they help you with your homework.

To be fair, they seemed like normal stressed parents worried about work and paying bills.

They were ghosts, navigating their own anxieties, leaving you to navigate yours alone.

You started doing bad at school.

Failed exams, no homework done, complains from teachers, etc.

At the tender age of seven, the world of learning seemed to have lost its allure, replaced by a growing sense of disillusionment.

The once-sparkling curiosity that had defined you was now dimmed, replaced by a veil of melancholy. The vibrant colors of your childhood were fading, replaced by a somber gray that mirrored the turmoil within you, grappling with a burden that seemed too heavy for your young shoulders to bear.

Alexia became a source of unexpected pressure. She'd noticed your withdrawal and failing grades, her playful questions morphing into a worried insistence you tell her what was wrong. You longed to confide in her, but the trauma remained a locked vault within you. Your silence, fueled by fear and confusion, was misinterpreted by Alexia as defiance. The frustration simmered in her eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. The unspoken words hung heavy between you, a heartbreaking consequence of your unspoken pain.

Alexia's words hit you harder than any punishment your parents could dish out. Her disappointment, a word laced with hurt, echoed in the empty space where your secret pain resided. The fear you'd been holding back morphed into a suffocating dread. "Letting her down" felt like a betrayal, a confirmation that your silence had pushed away the one person you trusted. The weight of guilt settled on your shoulders. Maybe Alexia was right. Maybe you were just being a brat, making everything worse. But the truth, the darkness you couldn't speak of, felt like an insurmountable wall, isolating you further.

A Sanctuary Built for Two

The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the training field, mirroring the intensity of the practice session. Drills were brutal, pushing you to your physical and mental limits. But amidst the exhaustion, a memory, a dark tendril from the buried trauma, surfaced unexpectedly. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the image of the coach barking orders, his voice a distant echo.

The memory was vivid – your mother's hand, rough and unforgiving, twisting into your hair. You tasted salt, tears mixing with the remnants of uneaten food. Your whimpers, a desperate plea, were lost in the chaos of the moment. It was a recurring scene, one you'd desperately tried to compartmentalize, to bury deep within the recesses of your mind.

You stumbled, legs weak, vision obscured by a veil of tears. A hand, strong and steady, caught you before you could hit the ground. It was Alexia, her concern etched on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency. But you couldn't speak. The words wouldn't come, trapped behind a lump in your throat that constricted your breathing.

Alexia didn't need words to understand. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, a silent haven in the midst of the chaos. She gently held your body on her arms and took you to the coolness of the locker room, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes on the field.

The locker room was a stark contrast to the sun-drenched field. Here, shadows clung to the corners, and the air hung heavy with the lingering scent of sweat and disinfectant. Alexia ushered you onto a bench, its worn leather cool against your burning skin.

For what felt like an eternity, you were unable to speak. Sobs wracked your small frame, your only sound a desperate struggle for air. But Alexia didn't push, didn't force you to talk. Instead, she sat beside you, a silent anchor in the storm.

"Breathe, little one, breathe," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "I'm here. I'm here." Her words, a gentle mantra, slowly coaxed you back from the precipice. Slowly, your sobs subsided, replaced by ragged gasps for breath.

Tears continued to stream down your face, but they were different now, cleansed of the initial terror.

Alexia didn't insult you for crying. Alexia didn't hit you.

Alexia was different.

Building a Safe Haven

Alexia, staring at your failing grades and withdrawn demeanor, felt a pang of something deeper than disappointment. It was a dawning realization – a fear that maybe everyone, including her, had been failing you. Here you were, at the tender age of seven, already burdened by a weight no child should carry.

The love she held for you, a love stronger than she ever anticipated, twisted with a fierce protectiveness. She saw the spark in your eyes dimming, replaced by a dull ache of something unspoken. Maybe, she thought, the answer wasn't pushing you harder, but stepping back. Allowing you the space to simply be a child, to rediscover the joy of scraped knees and silly jokes, just like she had done when she was younger.

It was a humbling thought, an admission that her initial approach, fueled by worry, had missed the mark entirely. Perhaps, the greatest act of love wouldn't be pushing you towards some perceived potential, but creating a safe haven where you could just be you.

The smell of betrayal

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of another grueling practice. Relief battled with exhaustion as you slumped against the fence. Alexia appeared with her her usual bright smile, joined by Mapi and Ingrid.

She reached out for her almost daily hug, the one you always cherished. But this time, the familiar warmth was tainted by a sickeningly sweet, fermented odor. It hit you like a physical blow. You pulled back abruptly, your nose scrunched in disgust.

"You smell weird," you blurted out, the words laced with a coldness you didn't recognize in yourself.

Alexia faltered, her smile collapsing. "Oh," she chuckled nervously, "it's just... well, the season's over, and I, uh, had a celebratory sip of beer with the team."

Mapi said something to you but you weren't able to hear it.

It wasn't the beer itself. You didn't know the taste, even if you had witnessed countless nights where your parents drowned their sorrows in amber liquid. But the smell – that was the monster. It was the reeking ghost of countless nights spent huddled in fear, the acrid air clinging to furniture and clothes, a constant reminder of a childhood that was being stolen by addiction.

The love you held for Alexia battled with the rising tide of anger and despair. "Well, you can go so you can keep celebrating," you muttered, your voice flat.

"No! But I...I wanted to introduce you to Mapi and Ingrid! They couldn't wait anymore to meet you!" Her voice trailed off, lost in the chasm that had suddenly opened between you.

You stared at her, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a steely glint of hurt. Your usual tenderness, the very quality that drew you to Alexia, had vanished, replaced by a wall you didn't even know you could build. The damage was done. The smell of beer had become a cruel reminder that you couldn't escape that substance, because you'll find it in every adult.

The silence stretched on, heavy and awkward. You poked a hole in the dirt with your shoe, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a frown. Alexia's happy face seemed to wilt under your scrutiny. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, but the yucky beer smell clung to her like a bad memory.

"Maybe," you mumbled, kicking another clump of dirt, "grown-ups aren't supposed to smell like yucky beer. Maybe they're supposed to smell like, like..." you scrunched your nose, searching for the right words, "...like cookies!"

Alexia's cheeks flushed red. You weren't sure if it was from the beer or because you'd caught her in something you considered bad. It made you feel even grumpier. Cookies! That's how grown-ups should smell, not like something that makes your tummy feel poorly, thinking how you always witnessed your parents throwing up.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. You puffed out your chest, trying to look as grown-up as possible. "Maybe," you declared, sticking your chin out, "I don't need hugs anymore. Maybe I don't need anyone who smells like yucky beer!"

A big, fat tear rolled down your cheek. You hated crying, but the words just tumbled out before you could stop them. Alexia knelt down slowly, her eyes filled with a sadness that made you feel a tiny bit bad. Alexia realized something must had to happened to you to be so disgusted by beer.

"Hey," she said softly, wiping away your tear with her thumb. "It's okay to be mad. But remember," she held out a finger with a sparkly ring on it, "I'll always be here for you, even if I mess up. Pinky promise?"

You hesitated, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. But all you wanted right now was to go inside, hug your stuffed bear, and pretend the bad smells and confusing grown-up things didn't exist.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Alexia. "Maybe," you whispered, barely audible, "maybe you could smell like cookies tomorrow?"

Alexia's smile was small, but it reached her eyes. It wasn't the usual bright smile, but it had a spark of understanding. "Cookies sounds delicious," she said, ruffling your hair gently.

The Most Important Match Of All

The car door slammed shut, the harsh sound echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Alexia watched the taillights of your parents' car disappear around the corner, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. You had left, a small figure dwarfed by the backseat, your face a mask of conflicting emotions.

She turned to Mapi and Ingrid, their faces etched with concern mirroring her own. "I wasn't expecting her to be so upset," Alexia confessed, her voice a low murmur.

Mapi, ever the pragmatist, offered a tentative smile. "Maybe she's just shy, Ale. Kids can be like that sometimes, especially around new people."

But Alexia shook her head, a flicker of doubt clouding Mapi's optimistic facade. “No, this feels different. She was so excited about the idea of meeting you. Then, the second she noticed the smell of alcohol...“ Her voice trailed off, the memory of your sudden withdrawal a fresh wound.

A pang of guilt shot through Alexia. She had been so focused on nurturing your talent on the field, on pushing you towards your potential, on making you her heir to La Reina title, that she might have missed something crucial. Had she been too blindsided by her own ambition, neglecting to see the emotional landscape of your life?

Ingrid, the quiet observer of the group, stepped forward. Her eyes, usually so calm, held a steely glint. "There's something more going on, Alexia. I can feel it in my gut. Her parents seem...well, normal from the outside. Polite, hardworking. But that doesn't mean things are sunshine and rainbows behind closed doors."

Shame washed over her. She had prided herself on being your mentor, your confidante, yet she had failed to see the silent cries for help. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow. Here she was, a celebrated athlete, yet she had fumbled the most important match of all.

"Maybe you're right," Alexia admitted, the words hollow in her mouth. The past few months flickered past her inner eye – your dwindling appetite, the exhaustion clinging to you like a shadow, the plummeting grades that you brushed off as a temporary dip. Signs she had chosen to ignore, attributing them solely to the pressure of training.

Taking a deep breath, Alexia pushed the self-pity aside. You were home with your parents, and that was where you had to be for now. But a fierce determination ignited within her. Things were about to change. She would find a way to bridge the gap, to create a safe space where the mask could finally fall away. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, Alexia wasn't just looking at you as a prodigy with boundless potential. She saw you for who you truly were – a vulnerable child in need of support, a child she wouldn't fail again

The price of cookies

The warmth of freshly baked cookies, a pact between Alexia and you, still lingered in the air whenever she was around. Yet, a subtle transformation had taken root. The once jovial mentor had morphed into a vigilant sentinel. Her gaze, once playful, now held an undercurrent of suspicion, scanning your surroundings like a hawk. Every interaction, every word exchanged with someone new, was dissected with a silent intensity.

The incident from the other day had shattered the illusion of a seemingly perfect world. The realization that normalcy, like a facade, could conceal a hidden darkness gnawed at Alexia. It felt like a betrayal, not just of her trust, but of the haven she'd meticulously built for you – a world where football was a source of joy, not a potential escape route. Memories of scraped knees and goofy jokes now felt like faded photographs tucked away in a forgotten album. In their place, Alexia had constructed an invisible shield around you, a desperate attempt to ward off the world's harsh realities.

What words can't describe

Alexia gnawed on her lip, her stomach a tightly wound knot. Building trust with your parents felt like navigating a minefield. It was essential, she knew, but the thought of putting on a facade left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet, when your parents invited her over for dinner, a forced smile flickered on her lips as she accepted.

Stepping into your apartment, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. It was normal. Two bedrooms, a comfortable living room bathed in warm light, and even a small balcony overlooking a quiet street. Relief battled with the nagging suspicion that had taken root in her mind. Everything was clean and tidy, a picture of domestic normalcy that clashed with the unease she couldn't quite shake.

The sight of you, however, brought a genuine smile to her face. Your eyes held a spark of joy that had been missing for weeks, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her. She followed you to your room, the air thick with the sweet scent of childhood. This was your sanctuary, your safe space. Pink and white walls were adorned with a mishmash of treasures: a menagerie of stuffed animals, a rainbow of storybooks, and a collection of dolls in various states of wear and tear.

One doll, however, stood out. A Nancy doll, the limited edition modeled after the Spanish National Team, held a prominent place on your shelf. Alexia felt a tug at her heartstrings.

"That's you," you said shyly, your cheeks dusted with a rosy blush.

Alexia's heart melted.

She didn't know how she got to the point where she felt an overwhelming love for you.

Glancing at the opposite wall, her gaze softened even more. There, proudly displayed on a corkboard, were your artistic creations. Football pitches in vibrant greens and blues, colorful caricatures of your friends, a self-portrait with a gap-toothed grin, and a collection of drawings that featured a prominent figure – Alexia herself, rendered in all her glory (or at least, your interpretation of it).

"That's also you," you said, pointing at a drawing of her mid-dribble, a determined expression etched on her face.

A warm chuckle escaped Alexia's lips. "I'm starting to feel like a permanent resident here!" she joked, the sweetness of your gesture a balm to her worry.

"I could make you a real one," you offered, tilting your head with a hopeful smile. "A drawing, I mean."

The offer felt like a lifeline tossed in a stormy sea. "I'd love that.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

479 notes · View notes

thewulf · 4 months

Text

Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

637 notes · View notes

sadnymi · 6 months

Text

「 ✦ Touch tank.✦ 」

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Every witch at Hogwarts seems to be chasing a single dream – to catch the eye of Theodore Nott. But Theo? He's completely unfazed by their relentless pursuit. Here's the secret: his heart, and his gaze, have belonged to me for a long time. And that's something he loves to remind me of, every chance he gets.

Words: 2k

Warning: fluff, smut , oral (f!receive) (public!sex).

Theo and I found ourselves in a picturesque field of blooming flowers, the air filled with the sweet scent of nature. spreading out a soft satin blanket to sit on. I wore a comfortable short dress that allowed the gentle breeze to caress my skin, and my hair cascaded around me in loose waves as I lay down on the blanket.

Theo settled beside me, leaning against the tree trunk with his back, and I couldn't help but admire the serene expression on his face as he gazed out at the blooming flowers. The colors of nature seemed to come alive around us, adding to the magic of the moment.

As I flipped through the pages of my book, occasionally glancing at the vibrant blooms around us, I noticed Theo's gaze fixated on me. His eyes held a gentle warmth, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched me.

Feeling his eyes on me, I looked up from my book a blush crept up my cheeks as I met his gaze. "Enjoying the view?" I teased, a playful glint in my eyes.

Theo chuckled softly, his gaze softening even more. "Always," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. "Especially when the view includes you."

I couldn't help but blush at his words, a smile spreading across my face. "Must you be so charming? Makes it hard to concentrate on my book.", pretending to be engrossed in my book but secretly relishing the attention.

This wasn't the Theo Nott every witch at Hogwarts lusted after – the one with the cutting remarks and veiled threats. This was my Theo , a Theo whose gaze lingered a little too long, whose voice softened when he spoke to me, and whose occasional smile sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Memories flickered to life, a stark contrast to the peaceful scene. The first time we spoke, I was a clumsy second-year fumbling with a stack of heavy books in the bustling hallway. Papers scattered everywhere, and I felt tears prick my eyes with frustration. Before I could even bend down, Theo was there, kneeling beside me. With surprising gentleness, he began gathering the scattered parchment, his touch light as he brushed against my hand.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he'd said, his voice a low murmur that sent goosebumps erupting on my arms. "Or perhaps someone to keep you company for a bit?" He straightened up, his eyes locking with mine for a beat longer than necessary. A hint of a playful glint sparked within them before he offered a crooked smile. "Don't worry," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm gentle when I want to be."

That simple phrase, delivered with a knowing smirk, had stayed with me ever since. It was a revelation .

These were the glimpses of Theo that drew me in. The boy beneath the cool exterior, the one who used his signature smirk not for cruelty but for a hint of amusement, the one who offered unexpected help with a quiet kindness.

As I lay there, bathed in the warm afternoon sun, a smile touched my lips in response to Theo's gaze. The years seemed to melt away, and I was no longer the nervous first year, but a young woman who had discovered the hidden warmth beneath the icy facade of Theodore Nott.

Theo shifted slightly, leaning closer. “ read to me beautiful “ he said

Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked at him with a soft smile. "Alright," I agreed, my heart fluttering a little. "Just for you."

"The dragon soared high above the mountains, its scales shimmering in the sunlight as it let out a mighty roar," I read, my voice filled with excitement.

Theo listened intently, I continued to read, painting vivid pictures with my words of heroes on epic quests, enchanted forests, and ancient prophecies.

"The brave knight drew his sword, ready to face the dark sorcerer who threatened to plunge the kingdom into eternal darkness," I narrated, my voice taking on a dramatic tone to match the intensity of the scene.

As I read, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, noticing the way his eyes lit up with each new twist and turn of the plot.

As I continued reading the fantasy tale, His lips brushed softly against my neck sending a wave of tingling sensations through me. I closed my eyes, savoring the intimate moment as a soft moan escaped my lips.

"Don't stop reading," Theo whispered, his warm breath tickling my skin. His hand gently pulled my hair to one side, giving him better access to my neck as his kisses trailed down.

I complied, trying to focus on the words on the page while Theo's kisses distracted me. The story seemed to take on a new level of excitement as his touch added an extra layer of thrill to the narrative.

" summoned her magical powers, her eyes glowing with determination as she faced the ultimate challenge," I read, my voice slightly breathless .

His kisses grew more fervent, his lips leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses along my neck and collarbone. I struggled to maintain my composure, the combination of the story's intensity and Theo's intimate advances stirring a potent mixture of emotions within me.

his hand slipped from my hair to my waist, pulling me closer to him as he continued to pepper kisses on my skin. Each touch sent sparks of desire coursing through me, blending seamlessly with the fantasy unfolding in the book.

I read on, my voice occasionally faltering as Theo's kisses grew more insistent. It was a delightful challenge, trying to stay focused on the story while being tantalizingly distracted by Theo's affectionate gestures.

"The dragon unleashed its fiery breath, but the heroine stood her ground, wielding her enchanted sword with unwavering resolve," I narrated, my voice filled with the adrenaline of the story and the thrill of Theo's intimate attentions.

Theo's kisses on my neck ignited a fire within me, driving me to arch my back in pleasure. I looked at him, my eyes filled with a mixture of desire and longing as he played with my hair, sending tingles down my spine with each touch.

"Do you trust me, baby ?" Theo's voice was soft, his gaze intense as he searched my eyes for reassurance. I nodded, unable to form words as his kisses left me intoxicated and eager for more.

"Good, because I need you to relax now and never stop reading, understood ?" His words were a command, but there was tenderness in his tone that made my heart flutter.

his hands moved with purpose, pushing my dress up to my waist with a single smooth motion. The feeling alone made me moan, the anticipation of what was to come sending shivers of excitement through me. "Theo," I gasped.

"Yes, baby?" Theo's voice was a soothing balm, calming my nerves as I voiced my concern. "What if someone..."

Theo silenced me with a gentle finger on my lips. "Shh, Never be afraid, No one will ever dare to," he assured me, his eyes filled with sincerity and devotion.

With a final nod, I surrendered to the moment, focusing on the story in my hands .His hand cupped me through my panties, and I arched my back in response, holding onto his shoulder for support. He encouraged me to keep reading, his touch growing bolder yet still gentle.

I could feel myself getting wetter with each caress, my panties becoming soaked. With a tender touch, he parted my legs, and I continued reading, my voice trembling with desire.

As my arousal grew, I read with a shaky voice, he continued to rub gently through my panties, the fabric growing damp against my skin.

I kept reading, my voice trembling slightly as his touch sent shivers of pleasure through me. It was as if the words on the page were melting into a blur.

As his finger circled my clit through the soaked fabric, a soft gasp escaped my lips, and I found myself arching into his touch. My hand instinctively reached out, finding solace on his shoulder as I looked into his eyes, filled with a mix of desire and longing.

“ you stop i stop baby “

"I'll keep reading," I whispered, my voice barely audible amidst the rising pleasure. "Please, don't stop."

He nodded, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued his ministrations. My focus wavered, the words of the book fading into the background as his touch became my entire world. The gentle circles, the teasing strokes, they all pushed me closer and closer to the edge .

Theo's voice broke through my haze of pleasure, his words a tantalizing invitation. "Will you come for me, darling?" he murmured, his fingers working their magic. "Right here, with your panties still on?"

I could only manage a nod, my body trembling with anticipation. With each touch, each stroke, I felt the tension building, the pleasure mounting to an almost unbearable level. And then it hit me, a wave of ecstasy crashing over me, my body shaking as I cried out in pure bliss.

His hands held me steady, guiding me through the intensity of my orgasm. As I slowly came down from the high, my eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Such a good girl," he praised softly, his voice filled with admiration and affection. He pulled my soaked panties down and knelt between my legs.

"Theo," I tried to say.

"Open those beautiful legs for me love " he said, and I did as he ordered. I looked down at him as he licked my thighs, and I couldn't help but tremble. He held my legs to control my movements, then pulled them around his shoulders, kissing the skin behind my knees.

"Oh, Theo, I can't... uhh..." I tried to express, but the pleasure was overwhelming.

"You can, baby. You're such a good girl. " he encouraged, and I nodded, closing my eyes to focus on the sensations.

Then, I felt his mouth on me. I gripped the blankets with both hands, moaning loudly as his tongue licked every inch of my pussy, circling my clit before moving down to my entrance.

Then he inserted a finger inside me, and I moaned loudly. moved his finger slowly while his tongue continued to lick my clit. Then, without warning, he began to move faster, adding another finger.

He kept hitting my G-spot, and my back arched so hard that I felt like I was going to fly. He held me down, and I tried to close my legs, but he kept them open.

His other hand started to circle my clit vigorously and rapidly, while his fingers continued to penetrate me deeply and quickly, hitting my G-spot repeatedly. His tongue never stopped its movements on my pussy.

I screamed his name, my hands gripping the blanket so tightly that I felt like I would tear it apart. Tears streamed down my face, my mascara running, as I gasped for air.

his touch became more intense and focused. His fingers expertly massaged my most sensitive areas, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter, aching for release.

Suddenly, I felt an intense pressure building inside me, different from anything I had experienced before. It was like a tingling warmth spreading from my core, radiating outwards with every touch.

And then it happened - a sudden gush of fluid escaped from me, soaking both of us in its warmth. It was a mix of surprise and intense pleasure, as I experienced squirting for the first time.

Theo's eyes widened in amazement and delight, his fingers never ceasing their movements as they continued to coax more pleasure from my trembling body. His lips met mine in a passionate kiss, his hands still gently exploring my body as if committing every inch to memory. As our lips parted, I whispered, "I love you," feeling the weight of those words and the depth of my emotions.

He kissed me again, a tender and lingering kiss that conveyed all the love and desire we shared. "I love you too only you , always you ," he murmured against my lips, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

Exhaustion washed over me like a gentle tide, and I nestled my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The comfort of his embrace was like a warm blanket wrapping around me, and I closed my eyes, succumbing to the blissful embrace of sleep, knowing that I was safe and loved in his arms.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #fluff imagines #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodorenottsmut #theodore nott masterlist #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #Spotify

725 notes · View notes

mimimarvelingmarvel · 1 month

Text

time bound part one

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part One - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.3k

The mansion is a war zone. Screams and gunfire echo through the halls, mingling with the sickening stench of burning flesh and molten metal. Blood splatters the walls, once lined with family photos and cherished memories, now smeared with the desperate last stands of my friends. My heart hammers in my chest, a relentless drumbeat urging me forward as I sprint down the corridors I once knew like the back of my hand. Now, they feel like the intestines of some dying beast, twisting and turning as it thrashes in its final moments.

I skid to a stop outside Logan’s quarters, nearly slipping on a pool of blood. The heavy oak door is reduced to splinters, gunshots carved deep into the wood. Logan isn’t there. Damn it. Where the hell could he be?

Of course, he’s been in one of his foul moods all week, growling at anyone who dared get too close. Typical Logan, retreating to the nearest bar when things get too heavy. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I rake my brain, trying to picture him—his location. There has to be something, some clue that could lead me to him before it’s too late. The X-Men are losing. They’re being slaughtered, and the only chance we have lies in Logan’s bloodied hands.

I force myself to see it, a twisted sort of daydream: Logan tearing through our enemies, me getting to him just in time. My thoughts race faster, my vision blurring with desperation. It’s not enough. He could be anywhere in this town, and my friends—my family—are dying.

“Kurt!” I scream, the name ripping from my throat, a raw, desperate plea. “Kurt, where the hell are you?!”

I stumble into Kurt’s room, eyes wide, hoping for a flash of blue, the familiar scent of brimstone. Nothing. The room is a wreck—furniture overturned, shards of glass glittering like ice in the moonlight, blood smeared across the floor in haphazard patterns. How much of it is Kurt’s? How much of it is anyone’s?

A cold dread grips my insides, gnawing at my heart. I can’t lose them. Not like this. Not now.

“Kurt!” I call out again, the name choking in my throat as I stumble forward, deeper into the room. My eyes scan the wreckage frantically, desperate to catch even a fleeting glimpse of him.

Suddenly, the world around me shifts. Time fractures, and I’m flooded with chaotic visions, flickering images of what could be, what might have been, and what is. It’s my curse—my gift. Chrono-Perception. I see Kurt laughing, his smile wide and genuine. Then, in another vision, he’s gasping for breath, his eyes wide with fear as a blade plunges into his side. The echoes of possible futures assault my senses, each one more horrific than the last.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the noise in my mind to settle, to focus. But when I open them, the reality of the present hits me harder than any of the potential futures. Just beyond the overturned bed, a familiar blue hand sticks out from beneath a collapsed bookshelf.

My breath catches in my throat, and I rush over, time seeming to slow around me, each step dragging as if the universe itself is dreading what I’m about to find. When I reach him, my heart sinks.

Kurt’s body is twisted at an unnatural angle, his once vibrant blue fur now matted with blood. His gentle, kind eyes are wide open, staring into the void. I reach out with trembling hands to close them, my fingers brushing against his cold skin. The sensation of his lifeless body under my touch sends a shiver down my spine. He wasn’t supposed to die like this. Not here. Not now.

A flash of another potential future assaults my mind—Kurt, alive and well, teleporting behind me with that infectious grin, teasing me like he always did. But it’s just an echo, a cruel reminder of what could never be.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I gently close his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

I know I don’t have much time. The echoes of the future still buzz in my head, warning me of the impending danger. But it isn’t just my perception of time that sets me apart. My Time-Linked Vitality means my body ages slowly, each year passing like a drop in a vast ocean. It makes me resilient, gives me strength, but it also means I’m cursed to watch as the people I love die around me, one by one.

The pain of losing Kurt, of seeing him like this, is almost too much to bear. But I can’t let it consume me. Not now. Not when there are others still fighting, still clinging to life.

With one last look at Kurt’s lifeless form, I force myself to my feet. I wipe the blood from my hands on my tattered pants, my resolve hardening with every breath. The mansion is still under attack, and my friends—my family—need me.

I turn to bolt to the next room when a strange shift in the air makes me freeze—a ripple, like reality itself hiccupped. This isn’t my doing.

I spin around, but before I can even process what’s happening, a door materializes out of thin air. It hovers there, glowing with a light that feels wrong, like it belongs to a place that doesn’t give a damn about things like hope or mercy. My heart lurches, adrenaline spiking as I instinctively reach for my powers. But they fizzle out, sputtering like a dying flame.

The door swings open, and a figure steps out. Cloaked in shadow, they bear the insignia of the Time Variance Authority on their chest, a symbol of cold, unyielding authority.

“Y/N,” the figure speaks, voice smooth as polished steel. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What?” The word comes out more as a snarl, anger sparking to life within me. I have no time for this. “What the hell are you talking about? I need to stop them—my friends—”

“—Are meant to die,” the figure interrupts, their tone as final as a tombstone. “This timeline is not yours to change.”

The words hit me like a blow to the gut, driving the breath from my lungs. “What?”

Another figure appears beside the first, blocking my path. “It’s not your decision,” the second figure says, calm and detached. “You’re disrupting the timeline, and for that, you must be removed.”

“Removed?” I echo, my voice quivering with fury now. Cold dread coils around my chest, squeezing tight. “You can’t just—”

The first figure raises a hand, and my world goes dark. My muscles lock, frozen in place as a swirling portal opens beneath my feet. Panic surges, but it’s too late. The world dissolves into a whirlpool of shadows and chaos, the cold hands of the TVA agents the last thing I see before I’m dragged into the abyss.

The Void is worse than death. As I fall, time twists and warps around me, past, present, and future bleeding together in a nauseating blur. Memories crash over me in waves—Logan’s gruff voice, the X-Men’s laughter, the mansion bathed in warm sunlight. It all slips through my fingers, distant echoes swallowed by the darkness.

I hit the ground hard, the impact like a sledgehammer to my spine. Pain explodes in my ribs, but I grit my teeth and force myself up. The world around me is a desolate wasteland, an endless expanse of lost possibilities and forgotten timelines. Cold, lifeless, devoid of anything remotely human.

I stagger to my feet, my body aching, the emptiness of the Void pressing in on me from all sides. It’s suffocating, the silence so loud it’s maddening. I am alone—truly, terrifyingly alone.

My chest aches as I push through the underbrush, my hand pressed firmly against my side where the pain throbs persistently. I can’t see my future here—my control over time-slipping is erratic, even on a good day. The uncertainty only makes the situation worse. Each step through the dense forest feels like I’m wading through thick, invisible mud, the oppressive silence wrapping around me like a heavy shroud. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the crushing weight of despair threatening to overwhelm me.

A flicker of movement catches my eye, a brief flash of light piercing the gloom. My heart skips a beat as a figure materializes from the swirling smoke, gradually solidifying. I squint at the fiery glow surrounding him, a stark contrast to the dark, oppressive forest. Fear grips me, and I instinctively reach for my powers, but nothing happens. I’m powerless, feeling utterly useless.

“Hey there!” The figure calls out, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and curiosity. “You look like you’ve seen better days. Want a hand, or are you planning on moping around all by yourself?”

I blink, trying to process his presence amidst the chaos. “Who are you?”

He grins, flames dancing around his fingers. “Johnny Storm. You know, the Human Torch.” His casual tone does little to soothe my fear, and I take a step back, distrust etched on my face. “You look like you could use some company. So, what’s your story? Lost and hopeless, or just taking a scenic tour of the void?”

I scowl, irritation mingling with confusion. “I’m not in the mood for jokes. I’m having a really bad day—dragged into a cosmic wasteland and all.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement still lingering in his expression. “Ah, a bad day. I’ve had a few of those myself. So, what’s got you all twisted up?”

I swallow hard, my mind replaying the horrifying scenes from moments before—Kurt’s lifeless body, the screams of my friends and family. “I was trying to save my friends when these… guys in suits showed up and sent me here. Why are you here, anyway? Cosmic firefighter?”

“More like a cosmic firestarter,” Johnny retorts with a wink, his flames flaring playfully. “Anyone the TVA deems as trash ends up here—the lost and abandoned. Now, how about we get you out of this mess? The Borderlands is a decent place to catch a break.”

I narrow my eyes, skepticism etched on my face. “Borderlands? Sounds like a place where people go to get even more lost.”

Johnny smirks, his flames casting flickering shadows on his face. “Well, it’s got its charm. Plus, we’ve got a few folks there who might be able to help you out. But if you’re expecting a five-star resort, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“I’m not picky,” I reply with a hint of weariness.

Johnny’s grin widens, but there’s a hard edge to it now. “Oh, and just so you know, there’s a delightful lady named Cassandra who’s been making a little shit storm. To put it mildly, she’s a real cunt.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’ve encountered a few of those in my time.”

Johnny’s expression darkens further. “She’s a real menace. And then there’s Alioth, a cosmic entity that thrives on chaos. Think of it as a hungry monster that devours everything in its path.”

“That sounds… cheerful,” I deadpan. “What do you do here, anyway? Fight monsters and avoid psychopaths?”

Johnny chuckles, the sound a welcome break from the heavy silence. “Pretty much. But don’t worry. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, and from what I can see, you can handle yourself just fine.”

I look him over, nodding grimly, quick to expect my fate.

Next Part

A/N: Will maybe consider making a taglist! But lmk what you think!

234 notes · View notes