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anantaru · 5 months

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4 RULES TO SURVIVE A DIVORCE (GONE WRONG)

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — deciding to end your marriage with neuvillette might've been the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life, although now, navigating through the divorce was becoming even more difficult, especially when you suddenly fail to stick to four simple rules you have both set between each other.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 7.8k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, ex! husband neuvillette, divorced couple goals lmao, fluff & crack, p with plot, lovers to strangers to lovers, size kink/size difference, rough sex, unprotected sex, unresolved tension and lots of bickering, sassy comments from the both of you, it's very much giving married old couple, office sex, cumming inside

RULE NUMBER 1: KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AT ALL TIMES

by the sixth day of waking up to an empty bed— with the left side untouched and consisting of nothing but a feeble scent of vacant perfume, neuvillette has decided that he's had enough.

which wasn't to say that he's had enough of sleep, even though that's certainly a potent route to take, yet the neuvillette the people of fontaine knew was only the one they believed they knew.

in this agonizing moment in time, he wasn't sure on how long he could act out this picture-perfect facade for the sake of his people.

they thought he was brilliant, attractive, chocolate-box pretty.

a radiant, enigmatic dragon that was quite the sight to behold, his smile reminding the flowers of spring-time to blossom to their original beauty— awakening their way of life— ah well, such lovely things to ruminate on, or when they decide to appreciate his delicateness, how uniquely he viewed the world and how otherworldly soft he chose to explore it.

in a true sense, the alluring stories the people of fontaine told each other got one single piece about him right; that neuvillette was very handsome and soft to someone's eyes.

with all ones heart, the man unquestionably had enough of the irrefutable coldness wearing down on his shoulders, sitting there alone in an empty bedroom that was previously essential to his well being, with misery written all over his face and bursting at the seams of his mental health, just enough for him to stop talking all at once.

the cold bedspread was rough against his naked body, the mattress too soft to rest on and giving in beneath his weight. wholly crestfallen did neuvillette realize that sadly, the only way to return to the life he's lived a couple months ago, return to where he should be, was to somehow learn on how to travel back in time and make things right.

which from the bottom of his heart, was impossible.

it was confusing, he has to admit, because the only factor he found somewhat common now was on how empty the bedroom was— besides his own belongings, which weren't a lot in the first place, everything else was taken by you weeks ago, beloved items that were brimful of memories stacked in cold boxes and delivered to your new home.

a predictable event, he knows, and how embarrassingly predictable it had gotten that neuvillette found himself in teething trouble, precisely the issue of his sleep schedule in this bed— one you had bought together, shared together every single day, one you had made love to each other every single night.

a slump of mindless memories waft through his psyche, resembling a wicket current of catastrophes as he ultimately came to the conclusion that the reason he was unable to sleep must be because of you— his serious issues on being unable to rest, it has to be because of you.

neuvillette's thoughts and judgments were all scattered, rummaging through the vortex of problems he had endured through the weeks, a matter much more pressing than all of the other issues put together— he continuously waits and aches, hopes and dreams, and before he notices he's slowly healing, it all comes crashing down on him again.

a recollection long gone relives itself in his mind's eye, and his previous gaze gets overturned by a new, haunting stare.

this is why he had bought the bed in the first place, he remembers it vividly now, it's because you fell in love with it right away, you liked the way it felt underneath your body, heedless of how he personally never really found it comfortable.

concealed from everyone's eyes, neuvillette was deeply saddened, but he hadn't given his mental health much thought yet, because how do you even process that your wife has left you?

how do you tell anybody that you failed as a husband?

and it's raining again? what a hassle, although now he's acquired another way to fault himself on, most importantly hurt himself, because no one deserved the bad weather other than he himself did.

for the first time after gaining the position of the iudex of fontaine, neuvillette did not want to go to work. what if someone begins to ask too many invasive questions when he visits the palais mermonia today?

if that's the immediate case that was going to happen, he begins to think about it more clearly— a person asking about his private life was definitely trespassing his boundaries, right? he could immediately do something about it and put them on trial.

by that logic of his, neuvillette cannot fathom how humiliating it was, his face clouds with a mixture of desperation and disappointment in himself, because he can already imagine the hot off the press headlines on the cover of the steambird;

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

IUDEX OF FONTAINE LEFT STRANDED BY FORMER WIFE! ARE YOU WONDERING WHY WE THINK THIS MARRIAGE WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START? GO FIND OUT IN THE NEW ISSUE OF THE STEAMBIRD. ©this article was written and published by journalist charlotte, do not plagiarize under any circumstances

up to the minute he was able to calm himself down, until imagining the wildfire of emotions an article like that would cause in fontaine.

all the unpleasant hours of arguing with you, even attempting to understand each other without actually coming to a conclusion on how to navigate a situation like that. aside from wanting to keep it all hidden from the outside world, leave it concealed and let the people of fontaine forget about the fact that you two had been married in the first place.

who cares, right? who gives a damn if it's husband or ex husband now? what even was the difference between a wife and an ex wife, you see that it's all the same?

ugh, who was he fooling besides himself.

the whole 'ex-wife' was aggravating him to the point where it made him physically sick.

why can't he just flip a switch and everything goes back to normal like it never happened in the first place. neuvillette wanted his normal life back, the normal life he thought you both loved and would continue to live on until your dying days.

in the end, neuvillette saw no other route around it other than to quit using it all together, maybe stop talking about you entirely.

by all means, it's not like he will talk to anybody about the divorce, maybe besides you when he has to mention it. granted that he might not talk to you about it either, because he wasn't allowed to see you right now, neither were you allowed to see him.

on how it came to that point was genuinely understandable.

after the divorce was finalized, new adjustments had to be made regarding your previous living situations, shared income and the future possibility of seeing each other.

as was anticipated, before he was able to say anything or make suggestions, you had already started to list out a couple of "important rules" that you made up, you called them rules but in the iudex mind he called them pesky little regulations.

regardless of his distaste for them, he wrote them down on a piece of paper as to not aggravate you.

well, he found it a bit bizarre, but neuvillette thought it must be a serious requirement at this point. it was his first divorce so how was he supposed to know how to navigate through one? it wasn't supposed to be easy, that's what he knew, it's very heart breaking and draining his life force.

although funnily enough, his overwhelm strengthens after you waltzed over the fourth rule of the day. that's one rule too much in his opinion.

just how many were there?

"i can't think of a better solution," you state whilst leaning your body against his desk, always facing the ground, you wouldn't want to lock gazes with him during such difficult time.

"we may even be able to talk again in the future, you know,"

but did you really want to?

it's safe to say that neuvillette would want to keep in contact, but it's certain that this would not only stress you both out in the long run, possible new partners could also get weirded out by the fact that you two were still talking and they may become jealous.

neuvillette stifles a groan, scribbling down the second rule that left your mouth before absorbing the letters on the piece of paper, "it's for the best if we keep a distance,"

to say like that was a punch in the gut would be an understatement, despite the fact that you proposed the idea in the first place.

alas and without any of you knowing before setting out those four simple rules, now— weeks after, you had found yourself in a position that made it near impossible to keep a distance from each other, or at least make eye contact in a social gathering.

for you, it has become your life in a literal sense to comb through this difficulty, for neuvillette, the possibility of seeing you in the future would secure his sanity and keep him from turning as mad as a hatter.

patience. the incurable truth was patience.

this afternoon, you have to talk for at least five minutes, with a window consisting of a maximum of ten minutes if one of you talked slowly— it's not like you want to see him, but you have to visit your ex husbands office to sign a paper regarding your previously shared finances and then you're good to go for the day again, you can leisurely exit his office and leave this failed relationship behind, exactly where it belonged in the first place, deeply stored in the past.

previously during the negotiations, neuvillette was quite persistent in leaving you the house which was located a little outside of fontaine. he was in no need of it anymore and wanted you to have it, without payments required.

between us two, it's quite obvious he wanted to get rid of it.

but so did you.

you didn't want to stay there, not now, not ever, you wouldn't sign that damned paper even if the god of contracts suddenly came knocking on your door and force you to.

all the memories in that house would eventually eat you up, they'd definitely destroy you, the gnawing grief would certainly keep you awake at night.

originally after telling your ex husband that you didn't want the house, he was able to find you a flat in the city— it's small but cute, and it had everything you needed. a cozy bedroom, a kitchen that was big enough to dance in while you're preparing dinner and an area where you can set up an office for yourself.

how convenient it was that you were previously married to the person that is in charge of fontaine.

aside from that and the fact that you were practically making neuvillette handle the most difficult parts of this— you realize how a sudden guilt was stored on your shoulders, you could barely face him after that.

the parts he needed to handle included, but were not limited to, well, a problem slightly more irritating since it was about his life, turning approximately a hundred other problems he deals with on a daily a whole lot easier.

most of the legal process was handled by him, and only him for that matter, meaning that he had to spend additional hours on it and was barely able to move on with his life after losing you.

unlike you did.

well frankly, it's only been a couple of weeks, a month at best since you've last seen him— although it has been much longer since you've last felt him.

there really wasn't a lot going on in your life after breaking things off, it's always a grueling whirlwind of;

waking up, heading to work, walking home, eating, sleeping, repeat.

most significantly, your new bed felt a bit hard as well, it's uncomfortable and drove you insane.

you missed the one you had previously shared with neuvillette— wether it was because of the way it felt underneath you or because of its much better quality.

perhaps it was also that in the past, you had the chance of leaning against a warm body whenever you were freezing— the secret on why you found your new bed worse in comparison to your old one would certainly remain a secret forever.

it can never be answered, because you do not even know the answer yourself.

it's frequent and happens all the time— when you suddenly begin to wonder late in the evening if this was the right decision after all.

then again, a divorce wasn't necessarily something you would just forget from one day to the other— aside from that, there was a reason it happened, considering the countless events of arguing and the inability of you both to find a solid middle ground.

when you notice that a relationship drains the life out of you, or makes you cry your heart out late at night, a decision has to be made eventually, especially before it would turn your love into resentment or make your respect for the other person dwindle away.

was it really that surprising that you had your doubts?

when it comes down to it, neuvillette wasn't a bad man and you would never speak poorly of him. he was everything else but bad, which reminds you of the reason you had fallen in love with him.

but in earlier days, he had a reflection less of the way he was than of the way he wanted you to see him.

it was challenging for neuvillette to open up to you.

but hell, you're certain you won't be able to find someone who'd ever make you as happy as he did, bring you sweet tummy aches when he makes you laugh all night, or be there for you when you're sick and unable to take care of yourself.

you shake your head in embarrassment, your cheeks aflame as you're drawing several deep, steadying breaths— perhaps that's just how you're supposed to think right now.

it's not real, it cannot be.

right now, you feel like you should've never broken it off, but this marriage had been on death's door for months before the decision was finally formed— albeit from afar, no one had ever suspected anything and you're quite proud of that, in fact, both of you made sure no one would notice too much of what had been going on behind closed doors— like good spouses should always protect each other.

among other things, taking into consideration just how important his work and image was, the last outcome you wanted was for your ex husband to endure dreadful gossips about him.

neuvillette did not deserve a single negative word against him, this man deserved nothing but the finest life for himself— furthermore, after spending yet another night without sleep and thinking about your ex husband, you believed that the best for him just wasn't you.

it never has been.

RULE NUMBER 2: NEVER SHOW UP TO EACH OTHERS HOME OR WORK, NOT EVEN ON EMERGENCIES, ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU MISS EACH OTHER

it's a little clumsy when you first enter his office, accompanied by an unnerving type of awkwardness outstretching across the room as neuvillette meets your eyes right away— but his head drops after around two seconds and he puffs out a wretched sigh, sounding as if he's about to cry.

neuvillette thought that this should've been way easier— but before you, he has never felt real love like yours before, and he was quite certain that this type of love only happens once in life.

the melusines were also happy to see you, and you could tell that they were equally as confused as you were— they probably did not realize what was going on and nor did you really want them to know.

given that their love and admiration for neuvillette was bottomless and you wouldn't want them to suddenly harbor a disdain for you.

nevertheless, when you listened to what they were whispering about behind your back, they were talking about how you must've been away for travel or desperately needed a vacation from fontaine, or one even mentioned that you might've been sick— considering how dead and empty your eyes looked those past weeks.

then there's the "being busy with work". ah well, the excuses were surely endless and somewhat amusing, you know you're not taking care of yourself when every second a melusine talks about how tired you looked and if you needed a glass of water.

everything but a divorce was being spoken about, at least you managed to hide that well.

your gaze lifts to meet his own again when neuvillette stands up from his desk and looks at you from the opposite side of the table.

under further examination of your facial expression, he notices the slight discomfort that buzzes underneath your skin, especially around your eyes and how you could barely look at him for more than five seconds.

beneath the familiar emotion of being in the same room as him, the sharp bite of his aftershave slips down the back of your throat when you suck in a sharp, choked breath, tensing like a tree at each step forward.

why do you look like you haven't slept for days?

it cannot be, right? but he was paying attention to certain details, either relevant or not he notices how you're looking around without focus, or shift the weight of your body from left foot to right foot.

and well, his supernatural senses were sharp, immediately picking up on your heart pounding against your ribs as if trying to fulfill a thousand beats.

his fingers twitch slightly with the document in his hand as he remains in his position, waiting for you to come closer.

"this couch doesn't seem very comfortable for sleep," you point to the sofa in his office, in an attempt to break the awkward tension, your chin forwarding to the left where a neatly put blanket and a small pillow sat on top of the furniture.

just how many nights has he spent here? did he even sleep in the first place? was he taking care of himself and should you worry?

it's safe to say that his work shouldn't be in danger, but it really is killing you that you cannot ask without coming across like a desperate ex, and you're fully aware that it would also go against your rules.

but neuvillette has always taken his important occupation very serious, sometimes even to the point where he forgot about his own marriage and his wife waiting for him at home with freshly made dinner served and his most favorite beverage awaiting him on a beautifully set up table and— yikes, that escalated quickly.

you're beginning to remember one of the reasons as to why this marriage failed.

"i hope you do not mind if i ask," neuvillette stifles a groan, "but are you mentioning this out of curiosity or are you speaking down on my new sleeping area?" the hint of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, the underlying scorn making you wince.

and oh, "sleeping area" was a big statement for that little excuse of a couch, you're very much aware that he can barely fit all of him on it and always had troubles finding a comfortable spot when he fucked— uh, well, when you did things to each other there.

yes, you already know how it felt on there, and who could possibly know of the plentiful times you had been intimate with each other on that couch.

wait a minute, was that the reason? was he already having a rebound this soon after your divorce?

no, it cannot be.

not your neuvillette, hold on, scrap that and reverse, he wasn't your neuvillette anymore.

it's stinging and like pins and needles on your heart when you think about neuvillette fucking someone on the exact same place he made love to you— leading to the conclusion that simply looking at the couch made you sick to your stomach, instantly setting off another unpleasant lurch of nausea yet you could still muster enough strength to fix yourself for the sake of this conversation.

he wouldn't dare, okay, this is the last time you're discussing this with yourself;

what if he wanted you to see this, tell you that:

hey, look at me! i am so happy without you stupid witch, and i already have a new partner too, isn't that nice for me? there really is no need for you to be worried about me, so please sign this document and exit my office.

because i am getting my dick sucked every single day!

your heart beat turns feverish in your chest, and you quickly snap your head towards the direction of your ex husband, "isn't it obvious that i was just trying to make conversation with you?" you retort back, swatting away the dust lingering on your clothes while simultaneously coughing out in an awkward manner.

"although i really cannot imagine that this couch is somewhat comfortable to sleep on."

"i believe you must still remember on how it felt laying there yourself,"

yikes, what a great comeback from him, and he didn't mean to say it like he's spitting venom into your mouth, it's almost like he wanted to tell you that it's your loss you cannot make yourself comfortable on here, even though he wouldn't mind bending you on all fours again like he did last— okay, that's enough.

there was a half-visible smirk on his face that aggravated you, the absolute last expression you were expecting to see from him.

you roll your eyes, "trust me, i don't want to," you reply, pinching your eyebrows together while assessing your distaste of his answer.

just when did an innocent question about a dusty, old couch turn into— whatever that conversation was about.

RULE NUMBER 3: DO NOT ASK INTIMATE QUESTIONS ABOUT EACH OTHERS PRIVATE LIFE

no, stop it, that doesn't seem right, neuvillette shouldn't treat you this way.

right now, he was experiencing his worst nightmare and the previous gears of sadness grind to a halt upon perceiving another emotion— one, that certainly scared him.

whatever the case, he wouldn't repeat his mistake, accepting any destiny the universe would bestow on him as he silently promises himself to stop any anger from slipping past the tip of his tongue.

pressing your lips together, you dig your heels into the ground, "okay, forget it, i don't have a lot of time," an unexpected force of confidence pushes you forward until you could feel the wooden desk graze across your thighs, you're so close now and the only thing keeping your bodies apart was the desk in between.

your mind was repeatedly screaming at your frame to stop moving before you actually did, "i have to be somewhere in, uh, about a couple hours, so lets finish this quickly."

what a sweet and pretty liar that you were, terribly aware that the only thing waiting for you tonight was your bed.

what a sad image, but he must not know!

"oh?" neuvillette mutters bitterly, a nervous rasp roughening his voice.

"a date, i assume?"

you would have gasped if you had any breath to spare, because you did not think this would actually work in a million years.

"ah, ah, ah," you note in a triumphant colored tone, happily waving your pointer finger from left to right.

"this, dear iudex, goes against rule number three."

content, neuvillette resumes to the document in his hand before placing it in the middle of the desk, sucking in a short, harsh breath, eyes deepening down south, just any area that wasn't you,

"of course, my apologies," his tone was thick, sickly sweet with barely cloaked amusement.

now he knows you're lying— he knows you so well it's almost embarrassing.

"this, is why you came for, right?"

you fumble a blistering retort that died with the hard press of teeth against your tongue, "mhm," you murmur in a low, rich tone, his casual unbothered spirit was dangerously convincing.

oh well, he must have gotten it right— and ah, you were remarkably stubborn too, resisting even the most innocent type of help coming from him as you take a random pen laying across the other side of the desk instead of the one in neuvillette's hand.

your eyes slowly scatter over the document, your brain struggling to put together the authoritative choice of words displayed in front of you.

"please elaborate on that," you press a finger on a significantly befuddling paragraph.

neuvillette muses agreeably before slanting against the desk to see for himself— and when he did you got a real good taste of his perfume suddenly invading your nostrils, playing devils advocate when you flinch back a little.

"do not worry yourself about this," his answer came so quickly you barely caught it, spelled out without a flutter of hesitation.

"everything is accounted for," he adds gently, you only need to put your name, there,"

your once-vulnerable eyes now squint stormily, "that smart mouth of yours surely has been busy, i can tell," as you place the pen on the desk before dropping both arms to your side— the man before you narrowed speechless, burning his eyes through your smug face.

"oh, just how many tricks did you pick up on your way here?" he replies sternly, accentuating the "here" as to remind you on where you currently were— as if that would somehow make him look threatening, you have been in his office plenty of times before, both naked and fully clothed, so neuvillette surely must search for another way to dominate this conversation.

priding himself in front of you with his position as iudex certainly wouldn't work on his ex wife.

"why?" you retort, "you like it?"

"indeed i do, or is that what you want me say, i assume?"

"no," a soft sigh above you echoes your own, "but i do find it weird that you'd want me to sign something without explaining it to me,"

"i did explain it to you multiple times, in fact, last time we saw each other i even asked you if you understood what i was referring to,"

an instinctive flutter of frustration, anger and exhaustion slips down his throat, "and if i recollect my memories," he coughs out and walks around his desk, so that nothing was in between you anymore.

"—you have said your time was limited." the radiating dominance of his body momentarily presses your back against the table, trapping you in the middle, caging between a wooden desk and your ex lover.

"that was weeks ago," you pause, "it's normal for most people to want a quick run through on a document of this importance,"

"it's normal?"

"it's normal," you reaffirm.

"how interesting indeed. i will keep that in mind,"

you lean your weight against the desk as to keep the eye contact with him in an attempt to stand your round, and the two of you have since lost the original purpose of this meeting.

"how could you possibly forget that?"

your voices flap over in an unmusical tune when neuvillette attempts to reply to you, although your tone was far louder than his.

there was an awkward moment of silence that was practically slicing the air within your bodies and it's unusual on just how strong the tension had gotten in a span of two minutes. not to mention that he was so close— you honestly preferred it when his desk was keeping you both apart.

it was hard to remember anything and keep a rational mind, neuvillette realized that and found himself deeply saddened on how quick this meeting went out of hand and turned to this.

but a whispered sentence reaches your hearing and immediately calms you into a warm, relaxing state, "i apologise," he speaks finally and it surprises you, a nervous rasp shaking his voice,

"i shouldn't have talked to you in such disrespectful manner,"

your eyes widen, "no," and your cheeks grow hot with deep embarrassment, "it's really my fault, i need to apologize to you," as you force out a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

"don't," neuvillette retorts back, contemplating wether he should or not but lastly deciding to rest a hand over your shoulder before he squeezes it, a smile manifesting on his lips— and it was otherworldly radiant, illuminating his complete face with deep warmth and joy.

"i always loved that witty side of yours."

he doesn't say anything for a moment, in fact, neither of you do— and the feeling of him touching you again after weeks of spending apart from each other, and despite it being just his palm on your shoulder, was instantly turning your knees into jelly.

the minute of silence felt like twenty years as neuvillette straightens his body upright, drawing a more serious touch along your shoulder before moving his palm from your collarbone until curving his hand along your cheek, holding your gaze through bright, gemstone-like eyes.

he must be crazy, he thinks— because right now, he's going against everything he has promised himself not to do, and everything you have told him not to do as well. but fuck, he hasn't touched you like this in so long, the last time was long before your divorce, and the helpless intensity of his desire horrified him.

it's when neuvillette suddenly realizes that he has never stopped loving you— not even for a minute, nor a searing second.

it was impossible to stop loving you.

"it's just that i…" your voice grows softer and quieter the more you attempt to speak and your heart thuds feverishly in your chest that you're pretty much aware he must notice it too, "everything feels terrible," you admit hesitantly and flutter your eyes up at him, your gaze fanning over the soft pink across his facial features.

neuvillette begins to move his thumb across your cheek, "please forgive me for failing us," he whispers weakly, on the brink of tears, "for failing the only thing that made life worth living," his throat adds a slightly hoarse perception to his tone.

your eyes widen as you attempt to drop your head if not for neuvillette holding your cheek in his palm as a whirlwind of crystallines well up in your eyes, sousing your lashes.

your mind was gone, but suddenly you can think more clear— and you're not depending on the damaging daze that was originally controlling your body's autopilot feature— the grueling circle of work, sleep, repeat.

you sniffle between words, "no!" and helplessly slant into his chest as to bury your face in the fabric of his garments, "it's my fault, not yours!" continuing to cry and wail and sob your heart out.

"please don't hate me! don't resent me!"

being able to finally let go of all those stored emotions in your heart felt utterly freeing, as if an unbearable weight was lifted off your chest.

how did you two even end up in this situation? can someone, just anyone, make this agony for the both of you stop?

neuvillette shushes your cries with a soft shhh, folding his arms around your waist before smoothing one hand across your back. he decides to rest his head on top of yours, his warm breath fanning against your hair as you return his hug, pulling him deeper into you.

"i could never hate you," neuvillette sighs, "it's because i have never stopped loving you," before putting on weight around his embrace on you— perhaps as to prepare himself, because he was sure you were about to smack him due to what he just bluntly admitted to you.

while he knows it was certainly deserved as well, no excuse would make this proclamation easier even in the slightest.

but he doesn't regret it, it's over now. he just wanted to get this off his chest even if you'd most likely break off any remaining contact to him— although now he realizes that you've given him so much and he won't let you go again, not before repeatedly telling you that he loves you, loves you, loves you.

despite him believing that his efforts went to waste.

to his surprise, you did not hit him, nor did you yell at him or ask if he's hit his head somewhere— instead, you slowly move yourself from his chest, a saddened gaze meeting his own as a single tear falls from your eye.

your answer dwells a moment before you push it out, "i love you too," and whisper, "i love you so much," before you're peering at him with an expression he couldn't begin to decipher— for what's obvious, it's pure and selfless, a startled hum immediately following the last syllable that leaves your mouth when neuvillette suddenly slants his head forward to feel your lips.

RULE NUMBER 4: DO NOT FUCK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, PLEASE JUST DON'T DO IT, SNAP OUT OF IT, DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SEX WHILE BEING IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER

by all means, this wasn't supposed to happen— hell, you don't even know how you got here.

but his eyes were enticing as they meet your gaze, a deep source of exuberance affecting your delirium and when he leans into you to kiss your lips, his soft lashes clash against your skin, his traces subtle enough to make you feel a faint tingle shiver downwards your heat.

against all odds, neuvillette was terrible at making this any easier for the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to pull away after the third, fourth or fifth kiss, there was no way of ending this and his tongue made sure to clash against yours at each lap— this passion, it had no resistance, it will always find a way to flourish.

nothing more, nothing less, and you've got the iudex right under a fucking spell because even when his life felt depressing after you left him, when he was living through all those weeks and tried to navigate through this divorce— now, his heart had suddenly begun to beat again, although neuvillette knew that this would go against the fourth, and most important rule you had set up.

but he cannot stop.

blood racing, nerves alight, he pushes you against the desk and helps you to get on top of it.

you wanted him to pleasure you, needed him to use his hands and devour those pretty lips of yours— whine as his mouth carvs in a smirk, so excited and sooth as silk when you wrap your arms around his neck to push his frame against your chest, so he could easily rest his entire weight on top of your own.

"you're gorgeous," he coos, "so utterly breathtaking," the thought of you craving his attention to that level was flooding him with pride, it made his skin crawl with a thousand thunderous vibrations that hit the bulge in his pants, your wet kisses and hot traces fueling the withdrawals of your soul on his skin.

the dizziest groan touches your glossed lips— and neuvillette flips over your skirt to expose your drenched panties to his hungry stare, his eyes instantly hard with lust and love, every measure of his yearning openly shown as his cock twitches uncomfortably in his clinging pants.

you moan a dreamy sigh when the freezing office air hits your most sensitive parts, the tone leaving your lips high-pitched and desperate to feel more of him. in response, you earn a rough groan from neuvillette as he discards of his belt, dopamine shaking his soul alive, manifesting ruthlessly and tempting as you hug him tight, your erected nipples crushing against his strong chest.

you kiss along his neck with tenderness and feel the intense force of redness on his flustered cheeks, your tongue swift to blend over the quivering skin as you lash fiercely at the outline of his jaw between sharp flares of teeth tickling his face— his bewitching expression being held captive by your hand gripping his jaw hard enough to pull him towards you.

unwinding with relief, neuvillette manages to pull his tight slacks off, sighing as he drew out his hard cock and aching balls— instantly taking himself in his palm before fisting it slow in front of your hole. a thrum of arousal around the slit of his tip intensifies his need to crowd you with his shaft, and he gracefully strokes himself until you wrap your fingers around his wrist as to stop him for a second.

"i want you to make love to me," you mumble impatiently, "it's been so long," and neuvillette follows your lead in a flash and a quick nod of his head, making sure that you're sitting all comfortable on the desk and that you wouldn't hurt yourself with a random utensil on the table before he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs squeezing his hips close.

"everything you say, i do," neuvillette reassures you, "forever,"

your broken moans and bulging eyes excite him, not to mention when you refuse to let go of him. of course, who knows what will happen after desire subsides and you're both thinking rationally again, after all, you do trust him with your life, but you're still divorced and sure you would look stunning on your second wedding with him, he would very much prefer to marry you right after fucking the broad daylight out of your figure.

gently clutching at your clothes, neuvillette slowly lifts up the fabric until you're wholly exposed for him to feast on, at last working your panties down your legs as they hit the ground, a coy smile spreading across his lips— your naked body was prancing in front of him, reminding him on how gorgeous you were, especially now as your lips hang apart and your lewd whines spill from the tip of your tongue.

your pretty nipples were erected as well, laying a familiar caress up his spine when you grind your chest against his chiseled one, encircling the exposed skin until it comes to meet in front.

"just look at you," he mutters proudly, almost to himself, his cheeks flushed as he ducks his head to hide the beginnings of a pleased smile when he kisses your shoulder. the praises set your blood raising, pumping a hotness into your pussy as you moan out his name in sweet tandem, feeling the slight trace of his cock-head shadowing your hole.

you will do so well tonight, neuvillette thinks to himself, and before he helps you keep your legs parted, he teases your entrance with a half-hearted push of his cock. you want him closer and carry on to search for his entire weight on top of you as his dripping dick slides past the tight edges of your hole, your pussy throbbing as it began to hurt a little— just a bit, and it's important to note that you weren't used to this anymore, used to him, and it's because all the pheromones are currently leaving your body that it was worth having a slight pain come by.

because you knew neuvillette will do anything in his power to make it hurt as little as possible— so you could enjoy his erection painting your walls white as you moan avidly, your pussy rubbing deliciously on him, his hand continuously massaging the delicious, soft skin of your thighs and ass.

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when he snakes himself half-way in, a gentle breeze of your whimpers scatter across the room as neuvillette continues to push inch after inch of himself into you, your body relaxing underneath his much bigger one as you welcome him, beautiful moans and whimpers spilling from the back of your throat.

oh, how much you missed sucking in his cock like your life depended on it— and whatever issues would arise after this sinful encounter, neither of you was giving an inch of mind to those future concerns.

"there you go, that's what you need," neuvillette grunts, tensing his jaw and limiting his breathing because fuck, how are you still so fucking tight— in any other case, he would never skip foreplay with you, knowing that his size tends to be too big for your pussy, sometimes offering you help in spreading your puffy cunt apart— but he is aware that you're extra wet today, he notices how much easier it was to slide himself through your walls and collect your slick.

a slightest raw edge of desperation made his groan sound almost like a plea when your pussy clamps down on his shaft, and neuvillette moans softly as he bows down to trap your lips against his own, sliding down his tongue and lapping at yours, wet and slow, wet and slow, a low hiss of pleasure accentuating his skilled ministrations.

your pussy squeezes him gently and wets him thoroughly so that his flushed cock glistens in your walls as neuvillette allows himself to nuzzle his face against your neck, humming appreciatively when he began to move his hips, drinking in the light tears that swell in the corners of your eyes as he kisses them away.

everything was so filthy, just like that, and you're back to square one again— it's lewd enough to make his cock throb heavily between your legs when he picks up on his shallow tempo, warm and viscous grinds of his thick cock pounding you in two, wild and passionate burning through your sore hole and matching the rhythm of your hips that were catching his shoves halfway.

fuck, you missed his cock filling you up, shaking at the added stimulation when one hand squeezes your tits— not to mention how heavy it felt to have him deep in your guts again, his slicked erection pawing through your walls and searching for your pleasure spots, until you're practically writhing of overstimulation, most importantly releasing the stress you endured those past weeks.

somehow, everything felt more intense tonight— ecstatic and as if you're drugged of his cock, like you broke off the connection from clear reality each moment his tip inches down the searing spots in your cunt— your screams muffled by his strong shoulder which resulted in your noises coming out in weak cries and sobs.

"i'm— i'm so close." it's the way you said it, the way you wanted him to hear you.

neuvillette glances down on you, "yeah?" he cannot hold back anymore, your walls were too hot and too tight, his thudding erection cornering your bruised pussy as his cheeks turn cherry red— the tip of his ears shading the same color, "will never let you go again..." the following sentence comes from under his breath, a strong utterance, holding graven significance as it ignites flames deep within the pits of your core.

it's so unbelievably sexy when you tell him that he's about to make you cum, and the repeated proclamations of love were aiding your orgasm in unraveling much more intense— neuvillette parts his lips before pinching your nipples in between his digits, never faltering nor losing the steady streams of thrusts on your sex, paying no mind to your minor struggle of keeping his thick member within your sloppy hole.

the moans you sob are bringing him such satisfaction as well, particularly the ones of his name made him swallow down the assembling saliva in his mouth, leaving small kisses against your face as his adams apple bobs harshly against his throat when he grinds his hips into your heat— your slick seeping out at the corners of your hole as your beautiful legs hover over his waist to get into that ideal position.

he cups your pretty face without stopping the shallow tempo on your cunt, "i.. want you to look at me," his rhythm becoming blistering and rapid— it almost pains him to hold himself back, or the desire to cum but wanting to make you climax first. it's like his shaft runs through satin, pressing back and forth the finest silk but it's your pussy instead, so soft and taking his shape, you're made for him and he'll never let you forget.

even though he could hardly breathe because of how achingly hard he was, caged within the tight embrace of your walls as tears spring to his eyes, slip down his flaming cheeks, being wild and free and finally one with you again— in addition to the exciting sounds of wet noises of skin clashing on skin providing the last bonus puzzle pieces to make you spiral out of complete control.

a static crushes as if underwater in your ears— and neuvillette rolls his hips fast and hard, purring deeply when your legs wrap and urge him to penetrate you further. the pleasure buried in you was coiling from the base of your spine and found the candid bubble in your belly before snapping into a million pieces— your gorgeous noises finding his ears as he fucks you faster, yanking his head back and clenching his jaw as you came apart together, moaning into each others mouths and welcoming your orgasm with melting, soothing moans.

you shake your head and bury yourself into his warm embrace, earning you a smile you cannot even see when your thighs shake around his waist as he continues to pump his seed into you, the warm covers of milky whites prolonging your orgasm and intensifying it to a tenfold.

just in time too, his hot gift soothes the soreness on your walls as neuvillette deafens your body with a post-orgasm sensitivity that catches you in a trance, his cock still buried inside and never leaving your tight hole as you work to somehow get a hold of your breath again, letting you ease the stress he senses from you.

the stone-hard desk underneath you was bruising and uncomfortable, but it's bearable when you nuzzle yourself into your ex lover, or, well— current lover? soon to be fiance again?

"do not worry your pretty head," his hand lovingly brushes over your head as you fuse into his trace, "i will take care of everything," as he's allowing you to indulge in the intimate atmosphere you have missed so dearly, "i could marry you right this second, wherever you want," and with that sort of enthusiasm, you hold in every passing word with love, knowing that whatever the case— neuvillette and you will figure out a way, but you'll do it together, as a team.

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

Text

The Widow's Shadow

Natasha Romanoff x Enhanced! Stark!Fem!Reader

Summary: Tony and Pepper adopted you at 13 and now at the age of 18 a beautiful woman named Natalie Rushman walks into your life just as things start to heat up as your powers get displayed for the world to see.

Word Count: 10.5K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, just basic smut nothing crazy. R is innocent and it's her first time, Natasha at times refers to herself as Daddy, mentions of death (a car accident), R is orphaned,

A/N: I spent so long on this. It takes place during Iron Man 2 when Natasha is undercover as Natalie Rushman.

The lights in the room were dim, with only the boxing ring illuminated in the center. The rhythmic thud of gloves against pads filled the air, accompanied by the grunts and shouts of those sparring. Your heart raced as you adjusted the grip on your boxing gloves, the anticipation building up inside you.

Then she walked in.

Natalie Rushman. Or at least, that's the name she gave. With her fiery red hair, confident stride, and those piercing eyes that seemed to look right through you, she was a force to be reckoned with. She exuded an aura of mystery, and you were instantly captivated.

Your attention wavered, and in that split second of distraction, you stumbled. Your fist, meant for Happy, met nothing but air as you lost your balance. The next thing you knew, you were on the ground, your chin throbbing, and the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

"Damn it," you muttered, spitting out the blood, embarrassment flooding over you.

Before you could gather yourself, Natalie was by your side, a small cloth in hand. The gentle touch of her fingers as she dabbed away the blood sent shivers down your spine. "You should be more careful, cupcake," she said, her voice dripping with concern and a hint of playfulness.

“Cupcake?” your heart fluttered.

"Yes, I'm just clumsy sometimes. Don't worry about me, uh..."

"Natalie. Natalie Rushman," she introduced herself, her lips curling into a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you, Ms. Rushman," You managed to say, your cheeks burning.

As she was called into the ring by Tony, you made your way over to Pepper, your adoptive mother. Sitting down in front of her, you tried to regain your composure, your mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

"What is he doing?" You asked, trying to divert your attention from Natalie's impending spar with Tony.

Pepper sighed, shaking her head. "About to cause us a lawsuit more than likely."

You chuckled, the tension in your chest easing slightly. But as you watched Natalie effortlessly dodge Tony's advances in the ring, a newfound determination took root within you. You needed to know more about her, to unravel the enigma that was Natalie Rushman.

The tension in the room shifted as Tony and Natalie engaged in their intense staring contest. You couldn't help but watch, the air thick with anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally broke the silence, stepping out of the ring with a smirk.

"Happy, spar with her," he commanded, leaving Natalie and Happy to face off. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and curiosity about this mysterious woman.

As Happy began to give instructions, Natalie's attention turned toward us. "Rule number one, never take your eyes off your oppon—"

Before Happy could finish his sentence, Natalie moved with lightning speed, effortlessly taking him down. It was a display of skill and strength that left you in awe. The intensity of the moment had a certain allure, and you couldn't deny the fascination that welled up inside of you.

However, your admiration was cut short as Pepper freaked out. You could see the concern in her eyes, contrasting sharply with Tony's impressed expression. It was clear that Natalie possessed a level of expertise that few could match.

As Natalie left the training area, Tony, sitting next to Pepper, turned to her with a grin. "I want one," he remarked, referring to Natalie.

Without thinking, you blurted out, "Me too." The room fell silent for a moment, and you became acutely aware of the disapproving glances from your parents—not because Natalie was a woman, but because she was about eight years older than you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "I mean, I want a trainer like her. Someone who can handle themselves like that." You tried to backpedal, but the amusement in Tony's eyes and the stern look from your mother told you that your slip hadn't gone unnoticed.

Little did they know, Natalie Rushman had already left an indelible mark on you, and the journey into the world of the extraordinary was just beginning.

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The sun bathed the Italian Grand Prix track in warm hues as the three of you strolled into the restaurant for lunch. The aroma of rich Italian cuisine filled the air, creating a backdrop to the high-energy atmosphere of the race.

"Mr. Stark," her voice called out, and your heart skipped a beat. There she was, Natalie Rushman, in a dress that accentuated every curve, giving you a smirk that sent a wave of excitement through you.

"Ms. Stark. Hello, how was your flight?" she greeted, her eyes locked onto you.

"Good, it was excellent," Tony replied before you could get a word in. You fought to conceal the disappointment and joined your parents as they went to grab drinks offered to them.

Natalie took the opportunity to brief Tony about someone wanting photos of you three. You found yourself pulled between your parents for the impromptu photo session, the camera flashes blinding you momentarily. As the bickering unfolded behind you, you tried to maintain a composed façade.

"Stark, you're a magnet for trouble," Natalie quipped, her gaze never leaving Tony.

"Yeah, but I love it," Tony retorted with his signature smirk.

While your adoptive parents argued about the unexpected presence of Natalie, it became apparent that Pepper was just as surprised as you were to see her here. The tension in the air was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Natalie Rushman was intricately woven into the fabric of your lives, bringing a mix of excitement and unpredictability. Little did you know, this encounter in Italy was just the beginning of a series of events.

The atmosphere in the restaurant was electric, filled with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses. As you settled into the corner table, Tony's casual request for the specific seating sent Natalie off to make the arrangements. You couldn't help but watch her go, your eyes tracing the graceful sway of her hips with a sense of admiration.

'Damn, she's beautiful,' You thought, feeling a warmth spread through you. The age gap that had seemed so significant earlier now felt inconsequential.

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt Pepper's gaze on you. "Did you know about this?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"No ma'am, Dad didn't tell me anything about this," You replied honestly, your eyes still lingering on Natalie.

Caught up in the moment, you decided to shed your jacket, feeling the confines of the suit weigh heavily on you. Beneath it, your black vest and light blue button-up felt more comfortable, hugging your frame just right. You rolled up your sleeves to your elbows, revealing the tattoos that adorned your arms.

You couldn't help but notice Natalie's subtle glances in your direction as you settled back into your chair, your posture relaxed yet confident. Resting your elbows on the table, you clasped your hands together, the pose unintentionally showcasing your tattoos and muscles.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching Natalie's eye. This time, it was her turn to look away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. The playful exchange sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but smile.

The restaurant's ambiance was suddenly punctuated by a sense of urgency as Pepper scanned the room, her eyes widening in disbelief as she spotted the TV screen. Following her gaze, you saw what had caught her attention—a news report showing Tony getting into some sort of altercation.

"Uhhh, Mom..." You hesitated, pointing to the screen, your voice tinged with concern.

"Oh, you've gotta be..." Pepper's voice trailed off, her worry evident. "Where is Happy? Natalie?" she muttered, scanning the room once more.

You shrugged, feeling a sense of unease settle over you. "I'll go check, see if I can find them. If not, I'll go stop him myself," You offered, determined to help.

Pepper's warning glare stopped you in your tracks. "No use of your powers in public," she whispered through clenched teeth, her concern for your secret identity overriding any immediate action. “I have enough going on with your father right now Y/N/N.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you sighed, "Yeah, yeah... I know, Mom." The weight of your powers felt like a burden in that moment, the desire to help conflicting with the need for secrecy.

Walking away, you couldn't help but dwell on the constraints that held you back. You had this incredible power at your fingertips, yet you were forbidden from using it when it mattered most. The internal struggle was real, and you grappled with the complexities of your identity, torn between the desire to do good and the necessity of maintaining your carefully guarded secret.

The urgency of the situation propelled you to take action. Without wasting any words, you found Natalie just around the corner and swiftly grabbed her wrist. She reacted defensively, ready to strike, but you caught her fist with your own, feeling the subtle itch of your tattoos, a primal instinct to protect yourself kicking in.

"Just me. We have a situation," you stated firmly, guiding her back toward Pepper.

As we approached Pepper, Natalie's attention shifted to the TV screens displaying Tony's predicament. Pepper wasted no time in questioning Natalie's knowledge of the situation. "Did you know about this?" she asked, her tone demanding answers.

Natalie looked up at one of the TVs, a nervous energy radiating from her as she wiped her hands on her dress. "No, this is the first I'm hearing of this," she assured Pepper.

Concern etched on her face, Pepper inquired about Happy's whereabouts. "Where's Happy?" she pressed.

"He's waiting just outside," Natalie responded promptly. "Go get him. I need him."

Natalie rushed off to retrieve Happy, leaving you standing there, eyes fixed on the screens. "What are you doing, Dad?" You muttered, your left arm itching, a physical manifestation of the unease and frustration building within you. The unpredictability of your lives was becoming increasingly apparent, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of the challenges that lay ahead.

"Y/N. Go, now. We'll meet you there." The urgency in Pepper's voice snapped you into action. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward the race track, your focus razor-sharp as you navigated through the crowd. As you passed Happy and Natalie, you shouted over the noise, "I'll meet you down there! Get to the car with Mom!"

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you approached the unfolding situation. Every second counted, and you couldn't afford to waste any time. The man on the track posed a potential threat, and you needed to intervene before things escalated further.

As you reached the edge of the track, you assessed the situation, formulating a plan of action. The safety of the racers and spectators was paramount, and you braced yourself for whatever challenges lay ahead.

The air crackled with electricity as the man on the track wielded his arch reactor-powered tendrils with lethal precision, slicing through the race cars as if they were mere toys. Your heart pounded in your chest as Tony's car took the hit, flipping over in a terrifying display of destruction.

"DAD!" Your scream echoed across the track, the fear and urgency evident in your voice. Without a second thought, you vaulted over the fence, your tattoos coming to life, swirling patterns of black smoke enveloping the two of you as you helped Tony out of the wreckage.

"Dad, are you okay?" You asked, your voice trembling with concern.

Tony's resolve hardened as he steadied himself, his gaze locked on the mysterious man. "Yes, Y/N/N, I'm fine. We need to stop him. This isn't how I wanted your debut to be, but it looks like it's time. I'm going to get behind him and try to knock him out," he declared, determination burning in his eyes.

You nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. As the smoke began to dissipate, you positioned yourself as the distraction, ready to confront the man and protect your family. The tendrils lashed out at you, crackling with energy, but your tattoos responded instinctively, deflecting each strike with calculated precision.

The standoff intensified, the track becoming a battleground as we clashed with an unknown adversary. But amidst the chaos, a newfound sense of purpose surged within you. You were ready to embrace your powers, to stand alongside your father and defend your legacy against those who sought to harm you.

The screeching of tires and the roar of the engine filled the air as the car skidded to a halt, Happy and Pepper finally arriving on the scene. The sight of the man slamming into the fence was a welcome relief, albeit a brief one.

"Get in the car, now!" Pepper's voice cut through the chaos, her urgency driving you into action. You didn't hesitate, quickly climbing into the car as Tony and the man continued their struggle.

The tension inside the car was palpable, Tony's stubbornness clashing with the immediate need for safety. The man's relentless pursuit of the Ironman suitcase added another layer of danger, and you knew you had to intervene.

Seizing the moment, you grabbed the suitcase and hurled it out of the car, clearing the way for Tony to finally subdue the man in a climactic showdown. The sense of relief was overwhelming as the police arrived, taking the man into custody and securing the arch reactor.

As the adrenaline wore off, Pepper's concern shifted to you, her hands checking for any sign of injury. "Are you hurt, Y/N/N? Does it hurt anywhere? Are you okay?" she asked repeatedly, her voice filled with worry.

You tried to reassure her, but the repetitive questions only intensified the throbbing in your head. "Mom, I'm fine, really," you said, doing your best to quell her concerns.

The atmosphere in the penthouse suite was thick with tension and emotion as Pepper and you returned from the chaotic events at the race track. The concern in Natalie's eyes was evident as she greeted you, her hands gently resting on your arms as she assessed your well-being.

"You aren't hurt, right?" Her voice was filled with genuine concern, sending a wave of warmth through you. She cared, and that realization was both comforting and exhilarating.

"I'm fine, but thank you. I just need some Tylenol and a hot shower," you replied, trying to mask the lingering adrenaline and fatigue.

"I'll get both ready for you, Ms. Stark," Natalie offered, her voice soft yet reassuring.

Retreating to your room, you collapsed onto the bed, the events of the day weighing heavily on your mind. Your tattoos continued to shift across your skin, a visual reminder of the power and responsibility that came with your abilities.

Lost in thought, you were caught off guard when Natalie suddenly appeared beside you, her proximity sending your heart racing. Your eyes locked, and you found yourself mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her whisper was barely audible, the concern evident in her eyes.

Caught up in the moment, you found yourself flirting with the boundaries of your relationship. "I mean...my lips kind of hurt...maybe you could kiss them better," You teased, throwing caution to the wind.

For a moment, Natalie looked taken aback, the implications of kissing Tony Stark's daughter weighing heavily on her mind. But the pull between you two was undeniable, and she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, electrifying kiss.

The world seemed to fade away as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, the electricity between you igniting a spark that neither of you could deny. In that instant, you realized that your feelings for Natalie ran deeper than you had ever imagined, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you.

But for now, in this fleeting moment, you were content to savor the warmth of her embrace, the promise of what lay ahead lingering in the air as your lips met once again in a passionate kiss.

"My parents will kill both of us if they find out about that." You say sitting up. The post-adrenaline haze hung in the air as you sat up, the realization of the impulsive kiss sinking in. As you took the pills and downed the glass of water Natalie brought you, she playfully remarked, "Good girl." A shiver ran down your spine at her words, a mixture of surprise and amusement at the unexpected response to a simple act.

"I'll keep that reaction in mind for later, but for now, your shower is waiting for you. I'd join you, Ms. Stark, but I think they'd realize I was gone," Natalie whispered with a mischievous smile.

"Y/N. You can just call me Y/N or Y/N/N," you corrected, scratching your arm as a small smile played on your lips.

"Okay, Y/N/N, well, enjoy your shower and try not to think about me too much," Natalie teased, purposefully bending forward as she got up. The suggestive move caught you off guard, and you felt a sudden wetness between your thighs, a heat rising within you.

You stormed off toward the shower, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The day had taken unexpected turns, and Natalie's playful banter only added to the complexity of the situation. As you stepped into the shower, the warm water enveloping you, you couldn't shake the lingering sensations from your encounter.

The atmosphere inside the plane was heavy with tension, the hum of the engines providing a constant backdrop to the somber mood. The news reports filled the cabin, discussing the events at the race track and speculating about Tony's actions and the existence of your powers.

"Child with toys," you grumbled, rolling your eyes at the dismissive tone of the reporters. The urge to defend your father and your family's legacy was strong, but you bit your tongue, choosing to retreat into your music instead.

Inserting your earbuds and selecting a playlist on your iPod, you closed your eyes and let the music wash over you. The familiar melodies provided a welcome escape, transporting you back to the intimate moment you shared with Natalie, the soft touch of her lips still lingering on yours.

Lost in thought, you found yourself yearning for the comfort and excitement of that stolen moment, a brief respite from the chaos and scrutiny that surrounded your lives. The complexity of your feelings for Natalie weighed on your mind, the unexpected connection leaving you yearning for more.

As the plane soared through the night sky, you allowed yourself to drift, the memories of your kiss and the promise of what lay ahead providing a glimmer of hope and excitement amidst the uncertainty of your lives.

The tension in the living room was palpable as Pepper and Natalie juggled their respective phone calls, their voices filled with a sense of urgency and concern. The events of the past few days had taken a toll on all of you, and the need for damage control was evident.

Rhodey's unexpected arrival added another layer of complexity to the situation, his stern demeanor contrasting with the chaos unfolding around you. Natalie's attempt to keep him away was met with a united front from Pepper and you, your synchronized response catching her off guard.

As Natalie's eyes narrowed and she mouthed a warning, you couldn't help but smirk, a chuckle escaping your lips as you shook your head in amusement. The playful exchange only heightened the tension between you, the unspoken connection growing stronger with each passing moment.

Walking on thin ice had never been so exhilarating, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment when it would finally break, allowing you two to explore the depth of your feelings and the possibilities that lay ahead.

The anticipation for Tony's birthday party filled the air as you got ready in your room. Opting for an edgy yet stylish look, you adorned yourself in an asymmetrical black techwear skirt, a matching crop top, and thigh-high stockings with garter belts. Chunky Doc Martens completed the ensemble, and you threw up your Y/H/C up into a slightly messy bun. Dark makeup accentuated the tattoos that adorned your legs and covered your body.

Lost in your reflection, you didn't hear the door open and close. Only when Natalie appeared behind you, her arm snaking around your waist, did you realize you weren't alone. Her proximity sent a shiver down your spine as she whispered in your ear, "Who knew you could pull off suits and pretty skirts, cupcake."

A playful comment lingered in the air as you met her gaze through the mirror. Your breath caught when she continued, "I could just eat you out...I mean up." A suggestive bite of her lip followed, and your cheeks flushed with heat.

Her promise for later hung in the air, leaving you at a loss for words. "Once I get your dad all ready for his party, I'll come find you so we can have some fun of our own, okay, cupcake?" You could only nod, words escaping you in the face of the unexpected intensity of your exchange.

"Words, cupcake," she purred, her hand grazing your ass and squeezing slightly as she kissed your cheek. A shaky breath left you as you managed to stammer, "Y-yes, Natalie."

She smirked, letting her presence linger before sauntering off. You watched her leave in yet another alluring dress, feeling a magnetic pull as desire surged through you.

The pulsating beat from the party below seemed distant as you found myself alone with Natalie in your room. The bottle of vodka in your hand was both a comfort and a reminder of the chaos surrounding you. The weight of the world's scrutiny, the questions about your abilities, and the expectations tied to your identity as Tony Stark's daughter pressed down on you.

Natalie's sudden presence broke through your thoughts, her voice drawing you back to the present. "Hmmm last I checked you aren't 21, Ms. Stark," she remarked, her eyes locked onto yours. You took notice that she had changed since earlier now wearing a cheetah print slip dress.

Caught off guard, you tried to justify your actions. "Look, it's been a week, you know this. I just need to not think about everything for a bit, okay?" Your voice was tinged with frustration and vulnerability, the raw emotions bubbling to the surface.

Natalie's raised eyebrow and confident stride toward you sent a jolt of electricity through the air. Placing the bottle down, she closed the distance between you, her hands resting on your hips as she leaned in, her voice husky and seductive. "Well, if you don't want to not think for a bit...I could certainly help you with that. I am your assistant, after all."

The subtle shift in her voice, the hint of an accent, and the intoxicating proximity sent your heart racing. The line between assistant and lovers blurred, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

"No, you're my parents' assistant," you countered, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But Natalie's words and actions had already ignited a fire within you, the tension between you was palpable.

Her response, dripping with desire and intensity, pulled you in further, your resolve crumbling with each passing second. "You're their precious daughter, how could I not take care of you?" The closeness of your bodies, the warmth radiating between the two of you, elicited a soft moan from your lips, your voice betraying the desire coursing through me.

"Natalie..." you whispered, your voice filled with longing and anticipation, the promise of what lay ahead leaving you eager and breathless as your worlds collided, opening the door to a connection neither of you could deny.

The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, the intensity of your connection deepening with each passing second. Natalie's hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more passionate. Your hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as desire took hold.

The sensation was electrifying, every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Before you knew it, the two of you were tumbling onto the bed, your bodies entwined as the passion between you intensified. The softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, all added to the overwhelming sensation of being lost in the moment.

When your lips finally parted, the look of surprise in Natalie's eyes mirrored your own feelings. But before you could react, she flipped you, her strength and confidence evident as she pinned you against the bed. The feeling of her thigh pressing between your legs sent a shiver down your spine, a gasp escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you.

Your eyes locked, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless and eager for more. Her husky voice and commanding words spurred you on, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed.

"Move your hips, cupcake. Ride my thigh," she whispered, her lips finding yours once again in a passionate kiss.

The encouragement and guidance from Natalie gave you the confidence to explore new sensations, your body instinctively responding to her touch. As you began to move your hips, the pleasure intensified, a soft moan escaping your lips as the rhythm between you grew more intense.

The experience was exhilarating, the connection between you deepening as the two of you explored new levels of intimacy. Despite your lack of experience, Natalie's guidance and the undeniable chemistry between you allowed you to lose yourself in the moment, embracing the pleasure and excitement of the unknown.

Every touch, every kiss was a testament to the passion and desire that had been simmering beneath the surface, now fully unleashed as the two of you surrendered to the intensity of your connection. Lost in a world of pleasure and longing, you allowed yourself to be guided by Natalie, trusting her to lead you on a journey of discovery and fulfillment.

The intensity of the moment reached its peak as Natalie's words and actions drove you closer to the edge. The sensation of her hands on your hips, guiding and encouraging you, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each touch amplifying the ecstasy that was building within you.

"I'm so glad you wore this skirt; it's so much easier to play with you," she murmured, her voice filled with desire and anticipation.

Her words, combined with the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving together, pushed you closer to the brink. The feeling of being on the edge, teetering between pleasure and release, was exhilarating, and you found yourself whining in desperation, craving the release that was within reach.

"N-Nat..." you moaned, your voice filled with longing and need.

"Go on, cupcake, cum for me," she whispered seductively, her eyes locked onto yours as she urged you to let go.

The intensity of her gaze, the warmth of her touch, and the intoxicating rhythm drove you over the edge, your body trembling with pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Your tattoos seemed to come alive, moving across your body in sync with the waves of pleasure, a visual testament to the intensity of the experience.

"That's my good girl. Just like that...ride it out, baby girl," Natalie whispered, her voice filled with pride and satisfaction.

You opened your eyes, the world coming back into focus as you met Natalie's gaze. Her pupils were blown, the green barely visible as desire and satisfaction radiated from her. You could only imagine that your own eyes mirrored hers, the connection between you deepening as you shared a moment of pure ecstasy and intimacy, lost in the intensity of your connection.

The sudden interruption jolted you back to reality, the remnants of your intimate moment with Natalie quickly fading as the house shook with the force of the impact. Instinctively, you both ran towards the main floor, your concern growing as you heard Pepper's voice.

"Natalie!" Pepper's voice echoed through the chaos, her tone filled with urgency and concern.

"Mrs. Potts," Natalie responded promptly, her professional demeanor coming to the forefront.

The tension in the room was palpable, Pepper's eyes narrowing as she looked from Natalie to you, her concern evident. Before she could say more, the floor erupted beneath us, Tony and Rhodey crashing through in a display of raw power and conflict.

"Go!" you urged Natalie and Pepper, your tattoos coming to life as you stepped forward, ready to intervene.

The look of concern in Natalie's eyes tugged at your heart, but you reassured her, "Go...I'll be fine." With that, they retreated, Happy guiding Pepper away while Natalie disappeared in another direction.

"Stop fighting, you two! I will separate you!" You called out, your shadowy tendrils extending from your body, ready to intervene.

"Don't get involved, Y/N/N. This is between your father and me," Rhodey warned, his voice filled with determination and resolve. As he was don in the War Machine suit.

Despite his words, you couldn't stand by and watch as the two men you cared about most clashed in a battle that threatened to tear them apart. The power surging through you, the determination to protect and intervene, drove you forward as you stepped between them, ready to do whatever it took to stop the fighting and restore peace.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins began to wane as the immediate threat subsided. Exhausted, you released your grip on Tony, your muscles aching from the effort it took to restrain him. His intoxicated state only added to my frustration and concern, the gravity of his actions weighing heavily on you.

"What the hell was that, Dad!?" You shouted, your voice filled with anger and disbelief.

But Tony was lost in a drunken haze, his words slurred and unintelligible as he mumbled to himself. The reality of the situation hit you hard, the realization that his actions had not only put himself at risk but also jeopardized the safety and well-being of everyone around him.

"You ruined my night..." you muttered, the disappointment and frustration evident in your voice.

Thoughts of Natalie filled your mind, the connection you had shared was overshadowed by the chaos and conflict that had erupted. The uncertainty of whether you would see her again weighed heavily on you, the hope of exploring your newfound connection clouded by the events that had transpired.

The morning brought a new day, but the lingering tension from the events of the previous night weighed heavily on you. Tony, still in his suit, took you to a breakfast spot for some donuts, attempting to break the silence and ease the tension that hung between you.

"You really messed up last night," you stated bluntly, taking a bite of your bear claw.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up and eat your breakfast," he retorted, a hint of regret in his tone.

As the two of you enjoyed your breakfast on the rooftop, Nick Fury approached, interrupting your moment of relative peace. You used your smoky tendrils to descend slowly, greeting Fury with a smile.

"Fury," you acknowledged, the familiarity in your interactions a contrast to the strain in your relationship with your father.

"Little Stark," Fury replied, a smile crossing his face as he hugged you. Tony eventually joined you, and the three of you headed inside to continue your conversation.

Sitting in a booth with your father and Fury on the opposite side, you were taken aback when Natalie appeared, clad in a skin-tight black bodysuit. Your mouth fell open as she smiled at you. The unexpected presence of someone you thought you might not see again left you momentarily speechless.

"We've secured the perimeter, but I don't think we can handle it much longer," she reported to Fury.

"Huh...you're fired," Tony declared, a hurt expression crossing your face.

"Oh, that's not up to you," Natalie retorted, her words cutting through the tension.

"Tony, little Stark, I'd like you to meet Agent Romanoff," Fury introduced.

"I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D shadow. Once we knew you were ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury. Finding out you had powers was just icing on the cake," Natalie explained, her gaze lingering on you.

The revelation about Natalie's true role left you unsettled. As you looked away, a sense of dissociation washed over you—a defense mechanism you hadn't employed in a long time. The complexities of your newfound powers and the tangled web of relationships and secrets threatened to pull you further into the abyss, leaving you grappling with the uncertain path that lay ahead.

The weight of the recent events and the complexities of your relationships left you feeling isolated and overwhelmed. Holed up in your room, a wave of depression washed over you, casting a shadow over everything. A knock at the door interrupted your solitude, but you didn't feel like engaging with anyone. Despite your lack of response, the door opened.

"Go away, Dad. I don't want to talk," you called out, assuming it was Tony attempting to breach the walls of your solitude.

"Oh, I'm not your dad, unless that's something you're into," Natalie's voice cut through the air. The unexpectedness of her presence caused you to shoot up, facing her as she stood just past your door.

"What do you want?" you asked coldly, your guard up as you braced for whatever conversation or confrontation might follow. The uncertainty of where you stood and the weight of your emotions made it difficult to predict the nature of your interaction.

"I want to talk if you'll let me," Natalie's voice was soft, but the weight of her words hung heavily in the air.

"Why should I? Everything I know about you is a lie, Natalie! Oh wait, that isn't even your name!" Your voice trembled with anger and hurt, the betrayal you felt evident in every word. "I gave myself to you. You were my first, and it was all a lie!" Tears welled in your eyes, the pain of the deception cutting deep.

As Natalie stepped closer, you felt a surge of emotions, your tattoos reacting to your heightened state. "Don't," you warned, the tendrils of smoke-like energy emanating from your skin, ready to defend and protect.

"You wouldn't," she challenged, closing the distance between us despite your warning.

"I said don't." Your voice was firm, the energy around you intensifying as you braced for a confrontation.

But instead of a clash, Natalie's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug as you broke down. Your knees buckled beneath you, and you clung to her tightly, the weight of your emotions overwhelming. Smoke from your tattoos clouded around the two of you, a physical manifestation to how clouded your mind felt.

"You lied...you lied to me..." you sobbed, your fists weakly pounding against her as the tears flowed freely.

She held you close, waiting patiently for the storm of emotions to pass, her presence a source of comfort amidst the chaos of your feelings. The pain of the betrayal lingered, but in that moment, the connection between you offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty and pain.

"I had to, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm going to tell you something, something no one else knows about me. Can you look at me, Y/N/N?" Natasha urged, her voice filled with a vulnerability you had never heard from her before. Gently, she tilted your chin upwards, her eyes searching yours as she saw the hurt reflected in them.

"You're right, my name isn't Natalie. I go by Natasha now, but my real name, not a spy name or anything like that. The one on my original birth certificate is Natalia," she confessed, her voice soft and sincere. "Though I change names around, I've always been..."

"Nat?" You interrupted, the realization dawning on you.

She was caught off guard but smiled warmly, "Yeah, always, cupcake."

You searched her eyes, looking for any sign of deception, any hint that this was another lie. But all you found was sincerity and a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. The journey to rebuild trust would be a long one, but in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope.

"It's going to take time for me to fully trust anything you say, but for now...please just...stay with me," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you clung to her tightly.

"Whatever you need, cupcake," Natasha replied, her voice filled with determination and resolve. Slowly the smoke dissipated around you, your mind clearing up.

Leaning up, you captured her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, the connection between you reigniting as you slowly explored the depths of your feelings. Despite the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, the bond between you remained unbroken, a testament to the strength of your connection and the hope for a future built on trust and understanding.

The atmosphere in the lab was thick with anticipation and nostalgia as Tony and yourself delved into the trunk of his father's belongings. The weight of the legacy left behind by his father loomed large, the contents of the trunk a tangible link to the past and the future.

"So this is all the stuff Grandpa left for you," you remarked, sorting through the items before handing a blueprint of the arc reactor to Tony. His fingers traced the lines and annotations, a sense of reverence in his touch as he studied the intricate design.

Setting the blueprint aside, Tony began to sift through his father's old journal, his eyes scanning the pages filled with calculations and theories. The depth of knowledge contained within the pages was staggering, a testament to his father's genius and the groundbreaking work he had undertaken.

"Hey, Dad, there are some reels of film. We should watch them," you suggested, your curiosity piqued as you handed the reels to Tony.

Nodding in agreement, Tony set up the projector, the soft whir of the film reels filling the room. As the images flickered to life, we were greeted by the familiar face of his father, his voice echoing through the years as he spoke passionately about the arc reactor and its potential to change the world.

As the film played on, revealing insights and revelations about the arc reactor's design and functionality, Tony and you were drawn deeper into the legacy that had shaped his family's destiny. The blend of past and present, the convergence of old knowledge and new possibilities, served as a poignant reminder of the responsibility you carried and the legacy you hoped to uphold.

Together, you continued to explore the contents of the trunk, each item a piece of the puzzle, each revelation a step closer to unlocking the mysteries of the arc reactor and fulfilling Tony's quest to perfect it for his own life force and well-being. The journey ahead was filled with challenges and uncertainties, but in that moment, you were united in your determination to honor the legacy of the past and forge a path forward into the future.

As the film continued to play, a poignant moment unfolded as Tony's father addressed him directly. The atmosphere in the lab grew still, the weight of the words hanging in the air as his father spoke with a sense of purpose and conviction.

"I built all of this for you, Tony," his father's voice echoed through the years, a heartfelt message from the past. "Someday, you'll understand it all and be able to pick up where I left off."

The sincerity in his father's words resonated deeply, the realization dawning on Tony that he was part of something far greater than himself, a legacy that spanned generations. The mention of his father, limited by the resources available to him at the time, added another layer of complexity to the narrative, highlighting the sacrifices and challenges faced by those who had come before him.

As the film continued, revealing more insights and revelations about the arc reactor's design and functionality, Tony was faced with the daunting task of carrying forward the legacy entrusted to him. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, but the belief and confidence his father had placed in him served as a source of inspiration and motivation.

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“It was an illegal seizure of trademark property.” Your mother spoke on the phone as you lounged on the couch in her office, the news once again playing on about Iron Man and talking about you. How young you are and how reckless it is of your adoptive father to allow you to use these enhanced powers. A scoff rolls off your tongue as if he truly had any control over you. You had mostly stopped paying attention to the droning anchorman when two words slipped out of a small girls mouth who was being interviewed.

“When I grow up I wanna be just like the Shadow Queen!” You shot up straight, watching the television and ignoring the fact that your father just walked in carrying the one thing your mom is allergic too.

“Did you guys hear that!?” You asked excitedly calling over the couch that you now perched backwards on and interrupting the conversation they were having. Both looked at you and then the news on TV which now had the headline ‘Shadow Queen: Is This Child Endangerment?’ Pepper let out an exasperated sigh and Tony smiled.

“You are not pulling anymore stunts. Natalie and I are still trying to do damage control.” Pepper spoke and you could hear how over the topic she’d become ever since Italy. You deflated a bit back into the couch until Natasha walked in. Her eyes flicked to you a smirk on her face as she walked up to Pepper.

“Wheels up in 25 minutes. Will Ms. Stark be joining us?” Natasha asked and you smiled.

“Yes she will be.” You answered, jumping the couch. “Oh and Natalie dear can you get me a meeting with the press? I’d like to make an official statement as Shadow Queen.” Both Pepper and Natasha looked at you.

“Absolutely not.” Pepper spoke.

“Sorry mom. I need to do this. I know you and dad both think I’m a kid still. I’m not. I’m not the same girl dad found. I’m an adult now. I’ve watched both of you for so long now and I need to do this for myself. I need the world to know who I am.” You look from your mom to Natasha who doesn’t offer any guidance as your eyes wander back to your mom who lets out a sigh.

“If it’s not your dad it’s you causing me a headache.” She was rubbing her temples. “Just go get ready for the flight. Wear something nice.”

“Do you need anything else boss?” You heard Happy call and when both Pepper and Tony tried to answer, Tony looked around the room at the three of you.

“Oh I see I lost all the kids in the divorce.” He laughs, but Natasha stays focused on Pepper and you stay focused on Natasha. You see Happy shake his head in your peripheral. “No.” Natasha’s focus moved from Pepper to out the floor to ceiling windows of the office before her eyes flickered back to you. Her expression unchanging. Tony cleared his throat, catching your attention. “Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Enterprises?” Is he serious right now? You think to yourself as his tone shifts. At the mention of her name Natasha turns her head towards Tony. Her head tilting down ever so slightly as if to say stop, but Tony being who he is continues. “Your name is Natalie, isn’t it?”

“Dad.” You catch all three of their attention. “Did you hit your head or something?” You ask sticking your hands in your pockets. “Her name hasn’t changed since we met her. Natalie. Natalie Rushman. Remember?” You tilt your head to the side almost as a little warning. Your tattoos shifting ever so slightly that catches Tony’s attention.

Pepper got up while the two of you talked, taking with her the papers she had just signed. “Y/N/N, hurry up. Go change I’ll meet you and Natalie on the plane.” You smiled at your mother as she left the room. Natasha began to clean up her desk waiting for Pepper to be gone before speaking,

“I’m surprised you can keep your mouth shut.” There was a bite to her voice that made you shiver and smile.

“Boy, you’re good. You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it? You just tear things....You’re a triple imposter. I’ve never seen anything like you. Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?” Tony rambled and as Natasha started to leave, following behind you she spoke out in Latin,

“Which means? Wait. What? What did you just say?” Tony asked spinning around in his chair as you wait by the door for Natasha who spun around on her heels to answer him.

“It means I’m fucking your daughter.” She turned back and grabbed your wrist as the two of you left, your mind sputtering.

“What the hell Nat!?” You finally managed out as the two of you stopped at your room to change. An outfit already picked out by Natasha you assumed.

“You think that he’ll actually take that to heart? He called me a triple agent and asked if anything about me is real.” You went to say something, but she stopped you with a kiss. “Shhh cupcake. Get dressed in the outfit I picked.” Her breath hot against your lips and no matter how much you wanted to fight it. That wouldn’t happen as she helped get you undressed.

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You, Pepper, Happy, and Natasha arrive at the Expo. It’s all too loud and noisy for your liking, but you stick close to Natasha. You brush your arms together every so often and a gentle squeeze here and there from her when she can tell you’re getting too tense.

Your tattoos have ben shifting all night. Something wasn’t right and you make mention of it to Natasha when she asks what’s wrong. The markings adorning your body shifting along and Natasha who was already keeping a close eye on things seems to double down.

The three of you sat in the audience watching as Justin Hammer revealed his latest ‘invention’ which was just a rip of of the Iron Man suit making your blood boil and your tattoos itch as they crawled around your skin. You had begun itching at your arms until Natasha’s hand found yours. Your fingers intertwining with hers as she she your hands down on your lap. Keeping her eyes on the stage. You looked at her and then your eyes flicked to Pepper who was too wrapped up in the blatant rip off of Tony’s suit.

Everyone around the three of you clapping as he showed off each set in a different style for each branch of the military. “That’s a hell of a lot better than some cheerleader, let me tell you. But as revolutionary as this technology is, there will always be a need for man to be present in the theater of war.” You roll your eyes knowing just how badly things could go if they start adding anything remotely close to robotic tech like this into the mix of war. It should be nowhere near the battlefield, but idiots like Justin don’t know and don’t care about things like that when money is involved. “Ladies and gentlemen, today I am proud to present to you the very first prototype in the Variable Threat Response Battle Suit and its pilot, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes.” As Justin stepped back leaving both Pepper and yourself in shock two quiet “What!?” came out of your mouths.

Rhodey was slowly lifted up in the Mark II suit he had taken a few days prior. You grit your teeth at the man who you practically considered an uncle turning against your father. As Rhodey came into full view you could tell modifications had been made to the suit and it looked a bit bulkier all around with a gun coming off the right shoulder. “For America and its allies, Hammer Industries is reporting for...” Justin didn’t get to finish his sentence as a rumbling started to approach catching everyone’s attention.

You knew what it was as soon as it came into view, your dad, in his suit. Coming right up and touching down in front of Rhodey. You stood up, un able to sit any longer, but you felt the tug back from Natasha. You looked back at her and exchanged looks for a moment before she slowly let your hand go after giving it a tight squeeze.

Everyone was standing up to clap so luckily it went mostly unnoticed until your tattoos moved off your skin pushing you up and landing you just behind your dad. He turned only slightly, but gave no other acknowledgement.

“We got trouble.” Tony stated walking towards Rhodey.

“Tony, Y/N/N there are civilians present.” Rhodey mentioned and you looked behind and back at him like, ‘yeah I know’. “I’m here on orders. Let’s not do this right now.”

“Give them a wave.” You heard Tony state as you walked up to the two men. You turned around giving a smile and two peace signs, letting your tattoos slowly dance around you.

“Hey, all right! Yeah!” Justin pushed past you trying to recapture the audience attention.

“All these people are in danger.” You heard Tony speak, but didn’t react as you were still looking at the crowd. “We gotta get em outta here. You gotta trust me for the next five minutes.”

“Yeah, I tried that. I got tossed around your house, remember?” Rhodey reminds and you turn to the two men finally.

“Listen I think he’s working with Vanko.”

“Vanko is alive?” Rhodey asked and you were questioning the same thing. Tony moved you back to just behind Rhodey as he stepped up to Justin.

“Where is he?” Tony asked Justin.

“What?”

“Where’s Vanko?”

“Who?”

“Tell me.”

“What are you doing here, man?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rhodey spoke.

“What? What is it?” You ask looking up at Rhodey. Suddenly the gun on his shoulder is pointed at Tony along with the civilians. Your mind races knowing Pepper and Natasha are there too.

“Is that you!?” Tony asks in a panic.

“No, I’m not doing that. That’s not me. I can’t move. I’m locked up. I’m locked up.” Rhodes was panicing as the robots behind you also started to move.

“Dad. I’ve got this.” You called out moving just behind Rhodey. “Help Rhodey.” Almost all the tattoos came off your skin, acting as a barrier to stop the the robots from hurting anyone as they started to fire. Though you felt the hits through the markings you stood tall. As your dad and Rhodey took off into the sky so did the robots. Leaving you there.

“Fuck not being able to fly.” You grumbled, but your tattoos moved instinctively to protect the civilians from the falling glass. You coughed up blood from all the gunshots and glass. Trying to look over the crowd for your mother and Natasha. Finally finding them and moving yourself to them.

Your tattoos came back into you. Your skin feeling like it was on fire as you came up behind Natasha. She grabbed onto when you fell against her.

“You did a good job cupcake take a break. Daddy’s gotta take care of something.” You looked up at her in confusion before she arm barred Justin into the table. “You tell me who’s behind this. Who’s behind this?” Natasha practically growled and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“Ivan. Ivan Vanko.” Justin groaned.

“Where is he?” She asked, tightening her hold.

“He’s at my facility.” As soon as she had the information she let go. Walking away from Pepper and you followed close behind.

“Don’t follow cupcake.” Her voice was stern, but you weren’t about to listen.

“I’m coming with you. I took this guy on once before. I’m coming with you and I’m helping.” Natasha stopped turning on her heels. She looked down at you. Her face was harsh and took your breath away, but you didn’t back down.

“I can’t loose you.” Natasha’s voice was flat.

“And I can’t loose you. So either we go together or I hold you here with me.” She raised an eyebrow in a challenge before turning once more and continuing on.

The two of you made your way outside, Happy caught your eye in the crowd of people trying to escape. “Nobody’s answering the phone. What’s going on?” He asked quickly.

“Get in the car. You’re taking us to Hammer industries.” Natasha called out and Happy looked to you for confirmation. You gave him a nod as Natasha got in the back seat, you climbing in passenger.

Happy drove frantically after you had gotten out of the crowd. Luckily because of the Expo and the time of night the streets were rather clear.

“When we arrive, I need you to watch the perimeter, Happy.” You looked back at Natasha, watching as she took her hair down. “I’m gonna enter the facility and take down the target.” Natasha started undressing and you looked away, a blush covering your cheeks as you noticed Happy looking. He started swerving and your tattoos moved up blocking the view as your girlfriend changed. You exchanged a look with Happy before his eyes returned to the road.

“Go ahead Nat. You’re good.” You called out to which you got a ‘Thanks cupcake.’ in return as another look with Happy is exchanged. “I’ll explain when half of New York isn’t in danger, okay?”

When we pull up to the building Nat has changed herself into that skin tight one piece she had on when you found out her true identity. If half of New York weren’t in danger you’d probably take her-

“Stay in the car Happy.” Nat called out as the two of you got out.

“I’m not staying in the car.” Happy called back.

“I said stay in the car.”

“What are you wearing?” Happy asked.

“Don’t ask. Just stay here Happy. Nat and I got this.” The two of us slipped inside. Working out a small plan before actually starting to attack anyone the two of you happened to come across. As you watched her in action for the first time you were simply amazed by her movements, her agility, just everything about her and you were lucky enough to call her yours?

Just as you were getting lost in thought one of Vanko’s guards came up, but the black tendrils of your tattoos came out. Wrapping around the guards throat just until he passed out from lack of oxygen. The two of you taking down guard after guard as you make your way to Vanko. Natasha pulled out two pistols as she kicked the door in, but Vanko was gone. Just two more of the guards hanging from the ceiling.

“He’s gone.” Natasha stated.

“Fuck.” You cursed, your hands balling into fists as the tattoos moved and itched. Natasha pushed further into the room. Getting up to the computer and started typing as you came up just behind her and to the side. Watching what she was doing. “Are you hacking back into Rhodey’s suit?” You asked getting a short ‘mhmm’ in response. Your eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t know you could hack.” She threw you a look over her shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips.

“There’s a lot you still need to learn about me cupcake.” It was the way she worded it that made you smile.

“Tony.” Natasha looked at the screen where you could see your father’s face. “Got your best friend back.”

“Thank you very much Agent Romanoff.” Tony saying a meaningful thank you was something you hadn’t heard in a while.

“Well done with the new chest piece.” Natasha commented. “I am reading significantly higher output and your vitals all look promising.”

“Yes, for the moment, I’m not dying. Thank you.” Tony spoke through the comms and you smiled, wrapping and arm around Natasha.

“I’m happy to hear another parent won’t be dying on me.” You joked, but Natasha looked at you and narrowed her eyes.

“Dying? What do you mean? Did you just say you were dying?” Pepper’s face popped up on another monitor, butting into the conversation.

“Is that you? No, I’m not. Not anymore.” Tony replied. You and Natasha exchanged looks and decided not to get involved for the moment.

“What’s going on?”

“I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“You were going to tell me? You really were dying.” As the bickering went back and forth a few moments longer before Natasha interrupted finally.

“Hey, hey. Save it for the honeymoon. You got incoming Tony. Looks like the fights coming to you.”

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

You sat nervously in an abandoned warehouse Fury had set up in. He had asked for you first; alone. Which made you nervous, your leg wouldn’t stop and all the tattoos moved around, twitching incessantly at your anxiety. You looked at the monitors Fury had set up and the news once again talking about ‘Shadow Queen and Iron Man.’ A hard dry swallow came along with it at the moment.

A few manilla folders sat on the desk in front of you with the S.H.I.E.L.D logo and all caps just underneath it, AVENGERS INITIATIVE followed by an empty space and then PRELIMINARY REPORT. Suddenly Fury’s hand is in front of you pushing the folder back onto the table, making your tattoos come off your body and stopping just before you hit him.

“Fuck! You scared me Fury.”

“Sorry little Stark. Just don’t need you lookin at that just yet.” You slowly nodded at him, licking your dry lips. “I don’t know if you’re ready for it just yet.” Your brows knitted together.

“Why don’t you tell me first, then we can figure it out together.” You offered and he laughed.

“You trying to negotiate with me little Stark?” A smile cracking on his face.

“I always negotiate. You know who my parents are don’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, but you aren’t expecting the answer you receive.

“Y/D/N Y/L/N died at at 32 in a car accident caused by your powers awakening. Y/M/N Y/L/N died at at 29 in the same car accident. The three of you were on your way into the city to go see a play on Broadway. You weren’t too interested in going and as you started to throw a tantrum over staying back at home with your nanny a sudden burst of energy came out of you, manifesting in what you now call your tattoos. After they came out of you, you accidently tore through,”

“STOP!” Your tattoos shifted uncomfortably at the memory you hadn’t thought about it in a few years. You had buried it away, pretended it never happened.

“You tore through both your parents ending their lives in an instant.” Fury finished and you felt bile rise up that you swallowed back down. “Then the injuries you sustained which were minimal due to your tattoos protecting you you had been left to your father’s best friend and originally your Godfather, Tony Stark.”

“Please...stop. I don’t need my life rehashed.” You pleaded.

“Look at this. Agent Romanoff’s assesment of you.”

“Is...is that really?”

“Read. It.” You sighed and took the folder opening it. Skimming through,

“Okay Y/N Stark takes much after her adoptive father in many aspects, but had many caring tendencies to look after and take care of others even at the young age she is. She is kind, caring, and loving to those around her even when she’s just met you.” You carry on reading until you see it. Y/N Stark a.k.a Shadow Queen has a lot of heart and could be a liability to herself and others due to her caring nature.” You read the last line again. “No. No that isn’t fair. She’s saying that becasuse she doesn’t want me out there! She’s saying this because she cares about me. She told me she can’t loose me and this is her way of trying to stop me!” You slammed your hands down and stood up.

“I know. She told me her reasoning. Told me it was the one time she couldn’t put her feelings to the side. I’ve known Romanoff for many years now and never has she had trouble putting her feelings to the side. So I am giving the yes.” You looked up at Fury.

“You are?” You asked a little shocked.

“Yes. I am. Do not make me regret it little Stark. You’ve trained for a long time and now it’s time for you to stand in the spotlight. Little girls are already looking up to you.” Fury patted your back letting you know you could leave. You had to go talk with Nat about this.

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

“So he still let you join?” The two of you were laying down, she was on her back and you snuggled into her side. For once you two were both in comfortable clothes. Her hair down and slightly messy with a tank top and sweats. While you were in leggings and an old iron maiden t-shirt. Her fingers running through your hair.

“Yes. I’m still not happy you tried to stop me.” You grumbled against her.

“I know and I still stand there on it.” You roll your eyes and bite at her shoulder making her moan out. “Hey. Behave.” She reprimands and pushes her fingers against your lips. You willingly take those instead. “I don’t want you risking it out there for the wrong people or reasons.” You nodded in understanding. “I can’t lose you.” Her voice was soft and her eyes bore into you. You let her fingers go, cupping her cheek before leaning up and kissing her. It was a soft kis where you two moved your lips against each other slowly and just enjoyed the moment before you pulled away.

“You won’t lose me. I promise.” You placed your foreheads together as she accepted the answer for now though you knew she’d still always worry. You’d never let her know just how worried she made you. She’s a black widow, but she was still a human with no enhancement unlike you. Your tattoos were instinctive to protect you and those you care about. “I’m not going anywhere Tasha.” You reassured her with another kiss as the two of you melted into each other, finally getting to just enjoy each other after the past month of activities that had occurred and you were hopeful for more time like this with her for at least a little while before Fury called up one of you. You could only hope though.

#ley writes #ley speaks #ley masterlist #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x female

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blkkizzat · 1 month

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'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation.

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course.

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation.

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action.

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself.

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful?

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.

If you were a test he had failed.

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions.

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib?

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer.

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs.

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison.

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance.

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak.

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man.

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds.

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold.

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you.

There was no escaping you.

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji.

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction.

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen?

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat.

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame.

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age.

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith.

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face.

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees.

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar.

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then.

Nor your husband.

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk.

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear:

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town.

Gojo owns your cunt.

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass.

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist.

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.”

You obediently replied.

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth.

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue.

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease.

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you.

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips.

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat.

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you.

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval.

He gives you a small nod.

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind.

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in.

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband.

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself.

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself.

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen.

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip.

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation.

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet.

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere.

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento.

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns.

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?”

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town.

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself..

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens.

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?”

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress.

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.”

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell.

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays.

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words.

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone?

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro.

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways.

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer.

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way.

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being.

The scent of your cunt.

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard.

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned.

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair.

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt.

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

1K notes · View notes

httpdollie · 6 months

Text

OBSESSIVE FANBOY! CHOSO KAMO X FEM! READER HCS

warning: yandere themes, stalking, dub-con, coercion, breeding, whiny perv!choso, dancer! choso, manipulation, somno, dark content (i’m not responsible for the content you consume)

request are closed for one piece

blank blogs and minors will get blocked ( i check)

Fanboy! Choso who makes kpop choreo and kpop reaction videos on youtube and has a huge fanbase of his own

Fanboy! Choso who found out about you on kpop stan twitter after your group debuted and blew up after your b-side music video was released

Fanboy! Choso quickly fell in love with your beauty and talent as the center and lead vocalist in your group

Fanboy! Choso who loves how contrasting his grunge aesthetic is compared to the soft colours your wore all the time

Fanboy! Choso who’s very openly obsessed with you, to the point where it annoys his brothers sometimes

Fanboy! Choso who has to hide the fact he’s a solo stan on his youtube but watches fancams and edits of you all the time

Fanboy! Choso who’s dedicated and shows up to every single one of your concerts even if it’s not in his country, when he’s been questioned by a fan once he claimed it cause he was interested in making choreo for the group

Fanboy! Choso who’s has a anon account that has over 16.K followers on kpop twitter for having an insane photo card collection and posting selcas and edited fancams and simply being a fan that knows an intense amount about you (but no one cares cause he also posts hand pics)

Fanboy! Choso who forces his brothers so listen to your group and pick a bias and secretly got annoyed when yuji said he also biases you.

Fanboy! Choso who has fans that feed into the delusion that the two of you are soulmates and make fan edits and fanfiction of you guys ( he reads and watches them religiously)

Fanboy Choso who has every version of lightstick you have, his obsession is so bad he had to make new bookshelves to hold all his stuff (seasons greetings packs , postcards, framed pictures, signed shirts, albums and cd’s)

Fanboy! Choso who accidentally made his way into the toxic side of your fandom and made friends with other stan’s and would highkey be a toxic fan and dox anti’s

Fanboy! Choso who goes crazy when you get asked what your type is said your type was alt guys and dark hair, he immediately tweeted how “y/n literally made that comment about me guys!” not realizing his was on his main account…

Fanboy! Choso who almost died when he realized your group member account liked his tweet

Fanboy! Choso who religiously watches variety show and interviews with you because he adores your voice, mannerisms and personality

Fanboy! Choso who stalks your instagram account daily and rewatches your stories and scrolls through your posts

Fanboy! Choso who loses his shit when your manager reached out to him to make choreo for the title track of your first full album, he plays his cards safe and makes a very cute yet alluring

Fanboy! Choso who’s swears luck is on his side when he sees you moving into an apartment complex after working with you, he spotted with a security moving boxes into a lobby and truly started questioning of god existed

Fanboy! Choso who just happened to move to the apartment complex across from yours, acting surprised when you finally bump into each other, he felt like he was insane for doing it but felt so relieved after he saw how you smiled at him; makes him feel like anything is worth it if it’s for you

Fanboy! Choso almost had a heart attack when you dropped by to give him a welcome to the apartment complex by giving him a cake, and coffee mentioning how you’ve seen a couple of his videos and knows what he likes (he thought his cover was blown and almost started crying and apologizing on the spot until you said you want him to help you with choreo)

Fanboy! Choso who has a album on his phone dedicated to you of videos he took while training without you knowing, specifically pics he took and refuses to show to anyone, including his brother

Fanboy! Choso remembers when his ex said he was very hardworking and how she admired it, and hopes he’s good enough for you

Fanboy! Choso who feels so guilty everytime you post, he can’t help but get a hard on

Fanboy Choso who makes choreo for your group for the second time and feels so guilty about making it more sexual than normal but says it’s for a new “sugar and spice” concept for your comeback

Fanboy! Choso who acts so innocent when he grabs your ass or your tits telling you how he didn’t mean to

Fanboy! Choso who’s guilt immediately washed away when he sees you performing such a sexual dance in frilly form fitting dresses, miniskirts and thigh highs all done up like a doll, he felt zero shame in recording

Fanboy! Choso who made cum tributes to your normal pictures

Fanboy! Choso who dyes the a skunk stripe the same colour as yours every comeback (even if you’re wearing a wig or not) as a way of remind him of you

Fanboy! Choso who buys the perfume you wear, spraying it on dirty clothes of yours he stole to smell while he jerks off to panty shots he took, the second he cums he feels so guilty

Fanboy! Choso who sneaks into your room and jerks off to your pretty face and body while you sleep with your panties wrapped around his cock

Fanboy! Choso who can’t help but feel you up, kissing your neck gently, telling you how pretty you look and how talented and beautiful you are whenever you train together

Fanboy! Choso who tampers with your birth control til it’s ineffective so you go off it not knowing why it stopped working

Fanboy! Choso who loses control after you train in a pink miniskirt and white cami with no bra

Fanboy! Chose who loves using you in your sleep, leaving you nice, full and confused for the morning

Fanboy! Choso who can’t stop apologizing while he has you pressed against the couch, hands pinned together with one of his while the other rubs and caresses your tits and tights oh so gently, kissing your neck softly muttering about how sorry he is when he pressed his bulge against your cunt. whimpering about how warm and pretty you are and how good he wants to make ou feel.

“Oh fuck bunny, you’re so tight.” He groaned loudly, watching your eyes shut tight as he pounded you into your couch. “I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t hold back anymore- you look so good in this skirt, and your tits were practically falling out of your shirt like a slut… Ah fuck!” He said, unapologetically. Continuing to slam his thick cock deeper and deeper into you.

You felt your legs tingle as he has them pressed next to your ears, leaning forward pressing a sloppy kiss along your jawline peppering your cheek before kissing your lips, oh so passionately. His eagerness and desire for you practically had you dripping for him when he first lifted your miniskirt.

He picked up the pace, chasing closer and closer to his climax, whimpering and moaning into your mouth. You felt his tip kiss against your cervix, making your toes curl as he reached deep inside your puffy pussy. “I’m gonna cum bunny, fuck! I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy!” He moaned against your lips. feeling you squirm under him squeaking about not being on birth control. Your pushy clenching around him while you panicked, making his heavy dick twitch inside you.

“Choso! Oh my god! Pull out, it’s not safe for me!”

“Oh fuck don’t say that- I can’t stop, baby your practically milking my cock! I’m sorry bunny!” he groaned loudly before pressing his lips against yours, holding you down while his cum flooded your cunt. “I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” he whispered apologetically. Kissing you more tenderly to show his apology. His actions saying otherwise as you felt him get hard again as pushed his cum deeper inside you.

Fanboy! Choso who begs you to go along with a fantasy for weeks before you actually do it because he was so needy, so you finally go stage with a heart shaped plug in you pretty cunt, making sure you keep your cum inside you when you talk to your fans during a fan meet

Fanboy! Choso who exposes his obsession with you after he blindfolded you and took you to his bedroom, he took it off while he was balls deep inside you begging for you to make him a good daddy

Fanboy! Choso who leaks a sex tape of you all fucked out and dripping with his cum so he can have you all to himself…

#— dolly writes #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #yandere jjk #yandere!choso kamo x reader #choso smut #choso kamo smut #kamo choso smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #— dolly’s dark thoughts 💭

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popamolly · 2 months

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‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

#𖤐popamollyposts #𖤐popamolly #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel fiction #hazbin hotel smut #smut #female reader #love #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust

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controlledcatastrophe · 7 months

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October Allure Beauty Box | October 2023

Like I mentioned in last month’s post, as the seasons are changing, I am dealing with dry skin, dry hair, and transitioning to a new season in general. The October Allure Beauty Box touts help to level up our routines with a moisturizing scalp mask, hyaluronic serum, a mauve toned blush, and more. Let’s peek inside the October box and see goodies they have in store for us! The Allure Beauty Box…

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#allure beauty box #beauty #hair care #makeup

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cntloup · 3 months

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Valentine's Day

Fem!Reader fluff, mentions of love making and body worship A/N: The skin colors and body forms in the pictures do not indicate that of the reader's.

Simon unlocks the door to your shared apartment and steps inside, letting out a sigh of relief; he's finally home after a long day and he can curl up in bed with you. He tip-toes upstairs silently in case you’re already asleep. He slowly lowers the handle and quietly opens the door to the bedroom. He sets his eyes on the candles you put out around the room, flickering by the draft gushing in through the window. Their soft golden light fills the room, creating a warm and romantic atmosphere. ‘What’s the occasion?’ he asks himself and that’s when his eyes land on you. His beautiful wife in a gorgeous, delicate set of lingerie, complimenting your alluring, heavenly form, lying on the bed, patiently waiting for him, ready for him.

He just stands there by the door, eyes widened and mouth agape, almost drooling at the captivating sight of you. “Hey, Si.” you finally break the silence with your soft voice, nearly seductive, yet maintaining a purity and innocence that makes you, you. “H-Hi!” he stutters as he treads closer to the bed. You get up on your knees at the edge of the bed and gently wrap your arms around his neck, caressing the back of his head softly and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Si!” you mutter against his lips after pulling away breathless, grinning up to your ears as you see that stunned look still stuck on his face. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot. Fuck! I'll make it up to you. I promise.” he murmurs, apologetic and ashamed to ruin the moment. “It’s ok, love. I just want to spend time with you. I missed you so much.” you say as you pull him in for another kiss, this time more tender, trying to reassure him that he did nothing wrong.

“I got you something. Wait here!” you exclaim and leave to get his gift from the drawer. You return quickly with a black rectangle box. “Sorry, didn’t have time to wrap it.” you apologize as you hand him the box with a soft and warm smile dancing on your lips. “It’s ok. Better than me forgetting the whole damn thing.” he shakes his head with a huff and you chuckle as you urge him to open it. Inside the box, there’s a simple, yet elegant silver oval locket necklace with both your initials engraved on each side of it and a picture of you both on your wedding day inside.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” he says gratefully as he wears the necklace and places a loving kiss on your lips. He slightly pulls away, still embracing each other tightly. He rests his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes, breathing you in, savoring the moment.

He locks your lips together once again and picks you up with his big burly arms lovingly wrapped around your torso, you instinctively swaddle his waist with your legs. He gently lays you down on the bed, climbing on top of you, his arms carefully placed on either side of you, supporting his weight. Your lips move against one another tenderly and smoothly, tongues tangled together and exploring each other’s mouths, hands desperately wandering around each other’s bodies, gripping and groping, swallowing each other's moans and whimpers with each kiss.

He slowly pulls away to discard his clothes, teasingly stripping for you, making a show of it. You take a moment to admire him. He's truly beautiful. He notices your glare, "Like what you see?" he smirks and you hum in response, nodding with a wide grin. He starts peppering kisses on your face, making you giggle which makes his heart beat faster and a smile form on his scarred lips, his eyes sparkling with love and adoration. His lips slowly travel down to your jaw, the soft and sensitive skin of your neck and your heaving chest, trailing loving sweet kisses in their wake, eliciting soft mewls and whines from your lips.

He looks you in the eye askingly and you nod. He carefully removes your lingerie. You're mesmerizing. He's utterly enamored by you. He goes on kissing down your body with such care and tenderness, it feels like a dream.

He reaches your core, his kisses long and languid, savoring the feel of your skin against his lips and your sweet taste on his tongue, licking and lapping at your heat, soft moans of his name falling from your lips. But then you stop him. You gently cup his face in your hands and bring him back up, looking into his eyes amorously. "I want to feel you, Si. All of you." You push your lips onto his, kissing him with every ounce of love you feel for him.

“Si!” you whisper against his lips, looking into his gorgeous brown eyes and he leans his forehead against yours, both panting. “Yes, dove?” he asks, locking eyes with you. “Make love to me.” you implore. His gaze pierces deep into your soul, an unbreakable bond between you; a tender yet passionate love, a relentless devotion.

That night, he makes love to you as though you’re a goddess and he’s worshiping at your shrine, fiercely devoted to you and only you.

Cherishes every single part of your perfectly imperfect, lovely body with feather-like touches and languid kisses, his gaze filled with pure love and affection, you feel like floating on clouds and entering paradise.

Ravishes you vigorously, devours your flesh with such fervent passion, his gaze full of ardor and desire, you feel as if your body is on fire.

He makes love to you with every fibre of his being, you fill every single one of each other’s senses, your bodies melting into each other, souls engulfing one another, seems as though you become one.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

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alistairsmonstercafe · 4 months

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NSFW How to Gain the trust of a Dragon in the Dragons Den, Guide 02

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART ?

NOTICE; TOP/SWITCH Male Hybrid Reader

CHARACTER; BOTTOM/SUB Price, BOTTOM/SWITCH Soap,

CW; Threesome, slight choking? Hella horny dragon, body worship, praise, face sitting, fingering, ass eating, cock suckin' shit like that.

ADDITIONAL; I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION; @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr & @/thegnomelord for the scale idea on tumblr.

NOTE; Accidentally posted the draft... | This will be a mini series staring our favorite little hybrids. Part ? Will be a poll of a repeat character or a non 141 character.

As Price paced outside the office, the temptation to peek behind that imposing door grew stronger. His hybrid instincts nudged him toward curiosity, but his rationality warned against it. He wasn't your mate. Not Soap's either. He'd be a prick if he suddenly barged in purely because he was a horny dragon, he hasn't felt the urge for a proper mate for years, but it was uncommon for species to crossbreed, or to even have packs, or other mates then one that weren't of the same species.

Yet, there was something magnetic about the possibility—a pull he couldn't quite resist. The thought flickered in his mind like a distant flame, leaving him torn between his innate curiosity and the risk.

And despite the gentle reach of his claw near the door, he didn't. He was old. Older then most of you, who would dare date a dragon of his age? Even people of his kind preferred dragons who could keep up with them, not groan at a sudden back pain or a weak knee. Nor the crowfeet on his eyes, signs of age in his face. His body was not as strong as in his younger days, and well, his stomach. It had a lot more pudge to it, something he'd never openly admit.

The following day, despite his position as captain, Price found himself stealing more glances at you and Soap, your little cuddles during lunch, or the way your tails intertwined. The soft cooing and purrs left to each other left him with want, tugging at the fringes of his thoughts. He couldn't shake off the inexplicable allure it held, even though he knew his authority wouldn't grant him it.

As he maneuvered through his duties, his mind kept circling back to you. He questioned his own reluctance to simply talk to you, push the conversation open. It wasn't about rules or permissions; it was a deeper, primal restraint holding him back, a fear of the unknown that clashed with his innate curiosity.

Yet, when he came back to his desk later that evening, he saw a small pile of, to what to most, would seem as mindless trinkets, was actually an abundance of jewels, some of his favorite coffee, tea, and a make shift.. Scale? No. That wouldn't make sense. He could recognize it as yours and Soap's fur. In the shape of a scale.

Were you lads trying to court him? A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he gently held up the item to his nose, his wings relaxing at the mixed scent. The scent of a mate, his instincts whispered. And he couldn't help but agree.

Tucking away the items he placed them in a small box on his shelf full of items he hoarded before. He couldn't have a huge hoard, so he did what he could. And turned the scale shaped fur, into a necklace he could wear on his chest. Closest to his heart. For he knew they had won it already.

It was the next day where you and Soap were idly chatting, he sat down infront of you, and slid over a scale cut perfectly down the middle for you two. You both easily looked up in shock, mouths open. "Wha- Cap'n- Does this mean-" Soap sputtered, and you were still quiet with your jaw still wide open.

"It does. Means it quite bloody clearly, Soap." He replies almost shyly, his firm voice is softened with love and affection as he smiles. Those beautiful crow lines appear once more and the sight of both of your tails swaying happily is a tell-tale sign hes done the right choice.

He's quick to get back up, walking to the door before stopping and turning back to say; "My room, at nine exactly. Alright?"

You're both quick to say yes and despite his cool demeanor as he leaves, Price feels hard as a rock as the first blooms of heat start back in his stomach. A feeling he hasn't felt in ages, but that can wait for later tonight. He wouldn't be a captain without all that self-discipline, after all.

So its when Price comes to the dark of his room, a little worn out, he surprised to suddenly see a nest, and you and Soap sitting on his bed with only the moon light to illuminate your features. And coo he does because he melts at the sight that you both waited for him.

You're the first to pull him in with a grin, your tail wrapping around his waist as you and Soap are quick to strip him down until hes left in a shirt and boxers. But hes quick to push you down onto your back in the nest as he sits on your lap, Soap he behind Price, kissing down his back as his tail wags.

But as you look up at Price, he looks like a beauty, and your hand gently traces down from his chin, to his toned yet supple and beautifuy scared chest, to his stomach, caressing the pudge as you whisper praise. And it. Makes Prices face burn with pride at the fact someone accepts him and his appearance, something he didn't think he'd be self conscious on.

Soap continues quick and sloppy kisses up his back, leaving soft nips and bites on him, leaving it mostly betweem you and Price. He loves both of you but you had both discussed the idea before. You wanted to pamper Price, and make him feel higher then cloud 9.

And you did, each kiss, and bite, began to switch as Price was switched around by Soap. And you easily pulled Price's hips towards you and kissed his ass, making Price groan in response. The sound cut short as Soap began to kiss him, stroking your cock in the meantime to keep you satisfied as well. It was his turn to assist.

"Fuck- Price- So fuckin' pretty for us." Soap groans out to price, and you can only agree, pressing kisses up his neck as his tail makes soft noises against the nest as it wags aggressively against it.

Price only moans a little, his hips still bucking into your mouth as your tongue is quick, and perfectly long enough to reach deep into him inside, his dragoh tail is quick to curl around your neck and slightly squeeze lovingly. The way you and Soap praise Price and his body makes him melt. Hes an old lad, scales of iron from how the world has hardened him and yet you make him so soft.

So loved.

So accepted.

He thought he was content with 141 but knowing that two of the members in it are his mates? He can only purr.

Its when Soap slides down and suck off Price whilst hes still sitting on your face does he lose it. Not knowing where to buck his hips either back and forth, and instead sways them. His claws tugging at Soaps hair and your hands wrapped tightly on his hips, bits of blood is evident from your claws but neither notice.

Its when you suddenly slide in a finger that Price goes almost limp, his tail squeezes a little tighter and his moans get louder. Damn the thin walls because tonight he knows hes going to be fucked well in his nest.

And in his eyes thats a night well spent.

Aftermath; By morning Gaz is the first of the 141 to complain. Small eyebags under his eyes as he stares at you, Soap, and Price.

"Fucked real good huh? Give me some earplugs next time alright?" He remarks, drinking some coffee, Ghost watches but said nothing. But theres something about the way his smoke slides up his arm at the words 'fucked', before sliding back down, gives you slight curiosity.

#cod #cod mw2 #gn reader #john price #john soap mactavish #male reader #monster au #john price x reader #soap x male reader #soap x reader #john x reader #john price x male reader

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lonelym00n · 1 year

Text

You stole my heart (but you're too young)

Sam Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Sam thinks you deserve better than her, you couldn't disagree more.

Warnings: Nothing? Age gap but everything is legal (I left it up to interpretation but Sam is like 26 while R is 20ish). Kissing, if that's a warning.

A/N: Based off of this! Marrying my love for music with the scream franchise one fic at a time <3!! This one uses Tyler the Creator's song, Fucking Young/Perfect!

Day that I met you girl, knew that it was something special

With heavy footsteps and a yawn, Sam Carpenter made her way up the endless stairs leading to her apartment. Her boots thudded against each step particularly loudly today, a direct result of the ache in her legs that came with working a shift for not just one of her shitty jobs, but both of them.

At long last, she approached the door that signaled she’d finally made it through her tiring day. Sam momentarily struggled with opening the series of locks on the door- as it turns out, unlocking a door is especially hard when balancing her work bag and two boxes of pizza.

She manages to unlock and open the door eventually, and steps into the comfort of the apartment. Like a hot shower after an extra hard gym session, her overworked mood fades away at the warmth of her home.

Sam calls out a greeting and makes her way over to the table, setting down the pizza. Her bag is tossed onto the nearest chair, and once her hands are empty, she takes a moment to roll out her tense shoulders, groaning softly.

After some long overdue stretching, she shuffles towards the living room to announce the arrival of the pizza and to take a mental note of the apartment’s occupants. She’d heard Tara speaking with someone when she’d walked in, but had a greater need to first set her belongings down, and then engage in her daily check-in of how her sister’s day had gone.

“Tara,” Sam calls out before rounding the corner that leads to the living room, “The pizza’s here.”

Tara’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers, two different notebooks, and a few pencils. Her laptop is propped up in front of her. To her sister’s right sits a girl Sam has never seen before and she pauses slightly at the sight.

Tara huffs at her notebook and lets the pen she’d been holding fall out of her grasp. She looks up at Sam.

“Thank god,” she whines dramatically, “I needed a break.”

The small girl stands, lightly brushing herself off. Tara turns toward your seated form.

“Come on, pizza time.” The girl’s scarred hand enters your vision, breaking your intense concentration by offering some help in standing up.

You take it gratefully, letting her pull you up.

Sam, who’d been sneaking glances at you throughout the whole interaction, sucks in a breath now that she can fully make out your features. Your eyes twinkle and your preferred style of clothing suits you perfectly. You’re effortlessly beautiful, and Sam is utterly captivated by the allure that you exude.

She’s snapped out of her slight daze at the sound of Tara’s voice.

“Sam, this is Y/N. We have Chemistry Lab together.”

You wave, wiggling your fingers slightly as you do so. A tiny smile is on your lips and she swears you’re batting your eyelashes up at her, either that or her tired mind is playing tricks on her. Probably the latter.

“Hi Sam, it’s great to meet you.”

She hates the way your smooth, sweet-sounding voice almost causes her to let out a shudder. You stretch out a hand and suddenly she’s nervous, hoping her own aren’t too rough like they sometimes could be.

She meets you halfway, ensuring she’s extra gentle about clasping her fingers around yours. The contact has a spark shooting up her spine, and she clenches her jaw to bite back the gasp that almost escaped.

She clears her throat, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

You pull away, and her hand almost feels cold at the lack of warmth. All too suddenly, Tara’s quickly pulling you towards the waiting pizza.

Sam stays rooted to her spot, rapidly trying to process the sudden pounding in her chest. The light laughter trailing from the dining table knocks her out of her stupor. She blinks and retreats to her bedroom to take a much needed shower, hoping it’ll not only help lull her into a more relaxed state, but clear her mind too.

She sets the water to the hottest temperature and strips out of her soiled clothes. A small hum slips out of her chest when the scalding water makes contact with her body. She stays in the shower longer than necessary, and throws on a tanktop and shorts when she exits.

The apartment is quiet when she resurfaces from her room. The digital clock on the oven reads 11:27 PM, and she ignores the small pang in her chest that rises up at the realization that you’ve likely returned to your own home by this time.

Sam heads over to the dinner table where the pizza boxes (thankfully) still sit, grateful that Tara only had one friend over tonight because it meant there was still plenty of food leftover for her to eat. As much as she loved Mindy and Chad, they had a habit of eating first and being considerate second. It’d left Sam to have to scrounge up a meal for herself on several different occasions, but she cared more that everyone was eating and getting fed, so she never complained. Besides, she’d always put the twins and Tara before herself, the older girl felt the strong need to protect them because of the hell that they’d gone through together back in Woodsboro.

Tara pads into the kitchen while Sam’s polishing off her second slice of pizza.

“How was work?”

Sam swallows the last piece of crust, then answers. “Long, boring.”

The younger girl nods. “Thanks again for getting the pizza. By the way, sorry I didn’t tell you about Y/N coming over, it was kind of a last minute thing. She offered to help me with the pre-lab.”

Sam shrugs, “No big deal.” Then, cautiously, “She seems nice.”

A small smile pulls at Tara’s lips, “She is, super smart and funny too. You should see her and Mindy together, they’re hilarious.”

Sam unknowingly files the new found information away. She hums, “I bet.”

“Actually, I invited her to game night tomorrow. Are you gonna be home in time?”

Every Friday night the sisters hosted some kind of get together, whether it be a movie night, craft night, or their most recent obsession, a game night.

Sam mentally runs through her schedule, luckily enough she didn’t have a shift at the bar, so she’d be home by six.

“I get off at 5:30, so yeah.”

Tara smiles, “Good, you could use some fun.”

Sam rolls her eyes and lightly punches Tara’s shoulder, “I have fun!”

The shorter girl laughs, “Keep telling yourself that.”

The two girls share a brief hug before Tara heads to bed.

Sam tucks the leftover pizza into the fridge, double checks the locks on the door, and goes to her room. She climbs into bed and burrows into her pillows. She drifts away with the quiet excitement of getting to see you again tomorrow.

We met through mutual friends and this is where the story and confusion began // ‘Cause I was at Nirvana but I had to pretend that I wasn’t

Tara was right, you and Mindy were hilarious together, Sam can’t stop herself from chuckling at your shared antics.

“Uno,” you smirked.

Mindy slammed her hands down on the table, narrowing her eyes, “There’s no way! You have to be cheating!”

You lean towards Mindy, whispering teasingly, “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m just that good.”

Mindy grumbles. “Someone hit her with a plus four, for the love of God.”

You laugh heartily.

Tara plays, then Chad, Anika, Ethan, and Quinn take their turns.

“None of you had anything?” Mindy asks incredulously.

She has a skip, but with Sam sitting between the two of you, it wouldn’t be useful to play it. She groans and throws down a yellow two.

“Do something Sam, she can’t win again.”

Sam laughs and scans through her cards. She has a pretty good hand, and surprisingly a few different cards that could stop you from winning. The card she chooses to play, however, is a simple five.

What? It’s not like she wanted you to win or anything, she just liked seeing Mindy lose.

Dramatically, you slam your hand down on the top of the pile, ridding yourself of your last card and giggling gleefully as you go.

“You had a wild card as your last card?!”

You smile so brightly at Mindy that Sam’s sure the other girl might go blind.

“Read it and weep, Meeks!”

“I hate you!”

There’s some brief discussion on which game should be played next, and everyone agrees when Quinn suggests Pictionary.

“Let’s do it in pairs,” Chad chimes in, throwing his arm around Tara.

“I get to pick first, since I won!” You gloat.

You scan the members of the table, searching for whoever would be best to assist you in scoring another win. When your eyes land on Sam, you know exactly who to pick to secure your victory. Plus, you might’ve been harboring a secret crush on the girl, so it’d double as a good bit of bonding.

“Wanna join me, Sam?”

She gulps, but nods rather furiously. Her words come out so quick, she nearly stumbles over them altogether. “Yeah, yeah count me in.”

You grin at her and her heart flutters.

Tara and Chad pair up, and Mindy chooses Quinn, which Anika snorts at. She and Ethan happily team up, even though the choice was out of their hands.

The game goes exactly as you thought it would, with you and Sam in the lead by two points.

“Suck it Mindy, another point for us!”

Mindy fights back a scream of frustration, “You’re only winning because of Sam!”

You shoot her a cheeky grin, “Yup I know! I’m not afraid to admit that she’s carrying our team, it still means I’m winning!”

You place a hand on Sam’s bicep, patting it softly as if you’re thanking it for its drawing skills.

Okay, so maybe you’d been dying to feel the hard muscle, watching it flex as she sketched out each prompt, but that was for you to know and you alone.

“Sammy’s unstoppable, so glad that I have such an amazing partner.”

Everyone laughs, with the exception of Mindy who glares. Sam is eternally grateful for her tan skin, because it hides the blush that erupts on her cheeks at both the nickname and the compliment.

You and Sam win. You cheer and hop out of your seat, dragging Sam up with you. You dance around while she grins, just watching you. Suddenly, you’re leaning up to throw your arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for a victory hug. When Sam’s hands land on your waist to return the embrace, it’s as if time slows. She’s completely engulfed in the scent of your flowery perfume and it makes her head spin deliciously. You’re so warm against her, and she can’t ignore how the two of you fit together so perfectly. It feels right to have you in her arms, and the thought scares her slightly.

When you pull away, she swears that her heart goes with you.

You flop back into your seat to gloat at Mindy a second time. Sam sits gingerly. She feels anxious, like one of her friends might be able to see how the rhythm of her heart shifted during the hug to match the pace of yours.

She wasn’t used to this feeling. When she was with Richie, he never made her feel things so intensely. And god, this was all because of a hug? A hug with one of Tara’s friends, no less.

Sam sank further back into her chair, realizing how utterly fucked she was.

Now me and she held hands and we danced, nothing more // She kissed my hand a couple times, FaceTime when we’re bored

You were a frequent visitor to the Carpenter’s apartment after the game night. You’d find any excuse to come over, whether it be helping Tara with chemistry or gossiping over a cheap bottle of wine with Quinn.

Tonight was one of those nights, where you and Quinn were sipping wine in between exchanging stories. Both you and the redheaded girl were sophomores whereas everyone else in the group were still freshmen. It helped having someone to recount the horrors of the frat-obsessed days with, and Quinn was nice enough to drop by the corner store to supply the wine, so it was always a welcome occasion to spend some time with the other girl.

Normally it was just the two of you, since Tara was usually off with one of the twins or Anika and Sam was almost always preoccupied by work.

Today though, was one of those rare dares where the older girl ended her work day early. She’d already finished a shift and gone to therapy, so with nothing else to do, she headed home.

Upon noticing that you were in the apartment, Sam tried her best to keep her distance. Her plan was to hide inside the walls of her bedroom and drown out the lovely sound of your laughter with some TV, but it was quickly spoiled by Quinn.

“Sam, you’re here! Come sit with us.”

She smiled nervously and made her way over to the couch. Quinn was of course already taking up the lone chair, so she was left to join you on the loveseat.

Ever the observer, Sam’s dark eyes took in the flush that rested in both yours and Quinn’s face, and the half-empty bottle of wine.

A light slur fills Quinn’s voice, “Y/N was just about to tell me about this girl she met last year.”

Sam’s ears perk up, and she turns to fully face you. Her knee bumps into yours as she shifts to be more comfortable, her skin burning where it had made contact with yours.

You snort out a laugh, “She was kind of cute, I guess. I met her at some bar. She was tall, and like lean, and totally my type and all so I started giving her little signs to buy me a drink or something.”

Sam’s nostrils flare at the talk of your attraction for this girl. Her dark eyes are boring into you, tracing over your entire body while you speak.

“She came up to me and started flirting pretty heavily and then out of nowhere, some guy came up to us and threw his arm around her shoulder. It was weird ‘cuz she just kept flirting with me and then he started flirting too and then all of a sudden they told me they wanted a threesome.”

Quinn laughs hard, leaning over to shove your shoulder. The alcohol has made her limbs heavier, and she pushes you with a lot more force than she likely planned, toppling you over and onto Sam’s lap.

Sam reacts quickly, catching you by the waist to stop you from tumbling off the couch. She internally screams at the feeling of her hands on your bare midriff, the cropped shirt you were wearing leaving part of your lower torso uncovered.

You squeal and break into laughter, uncaring that your limbs are now tangled up with Sam’s legs.

You make no move to readjust yourself, so she doesn’t either. The way your weight is partially leaning up against her is too good, feels too right.

Quinn’s phone rings and she gasps, waving her phone around for you and Sam to see. “It’s Max! I gotta go, he’s the one who actually manages to get me off.”

The girl races up to get ready.

Sam, the protective person that she is, calls out to her.

“Quinn, be careful! Take an uber or something.”

“‘Kay!”

She runs out the door, leaving the amalgamation that is you and Sam behind.

You untangle your arms from her legs and flip over to face her. Her legs open to instinctively make room for you, and you lay yourself in between them, your cheek resting on her tight core.

She’s panicking at not just the position, but your proximity. Though she had spent a considerable amount of time with you due to your recurring presence in her apartment, she’d never stopped being slightly nervous around you. She understood it was because of the feelings that she harbored, but she wished some of her usual confidence could translate over to the time she spent with you too. It was slightly embarrassing to be a clean six years older than you and still fumble around like a schoolboy.

You turn and blink up at her from your spot on her abdomen. She stares down at you in response.

Things are still for a moment, as you look at each other, wondering what the other is thinking.

The liquid courage helps you break the silence.

“You’re really pretty, Sam.”

She’s stunned, because she’s been called hot, even sexy on a few different occasions, but never pretty.

Her heart sits high up in her throat.

“Really?”

You nod, all soft and encouraging, and she has no choice but to believe you because you look so sure.

“You’re strong too, not just physically, but mentally. You’re caring and always look out for everyone.”

She’s not sure what brought on this onslaught of compliments, but it causes so many different emotions to rise up in her chest. She’s lost on what to say, but she doesn’t have to speak because you continue.

“Sam, you're the most selfless person I know. You do so much for other people, it’s crazy!”

She laughs lightly, but it comes out more watery than she’d planned it to be.

Your shiny eyes twinkle up at her, and you shimmy up her body so that you’re now lying on her upper chest, near her shoulder.

She could lean her head down and brush her lips against yours so, so easily. But she doesn’t.

No matter how much she wants to, she holds herself back.

And god does she want to, more than anything, because you’re looking at her with a gentleness she’s never seen before. With your eyes on her, she doesn’t feel like the schizophrenic daughter of a serial killer who’s rumored to have covered up a series of murders. She doesn’t feel broken, or like the mistake that tore her family apart. You’re looking at her like she’s whole and like she’s worth something good.

She knows that if she kisses you, she’ll probably never be able to stop, because you’re everything that someone like Sam Carpenter needs.

Loyal, loving, uplifting.

But she’s scared, because every good thing she’s ever had, she’s broken. She couldn’t risk bringing that upon you, because it’s you and you don’t belong on the long list of people who have gotten hurt because of her.

You’re too good, too perfect, too fucking young.

Her heart hurts. As much as she needs you, she won’t let herself have you.

As if you’re able to hear her internal battle, you continue your previous thought, “You do so much for other people, but never anything for yourself. I wish you’d do more for yourself.”

A tear slides down her cheek, but in your tipsy state, you remain blissfully unaware. Instead, you’re playing with the ends of her hair and twirling it around your fingers. You don’t even know it, but your touch comforts the vulnerable girl immensely.

You sigh heavily, press a quick kiss to her clothed shoulder, and push yourself off of her. You stand and move to gather your stuff, clearly getting ready to leave.

“You’re leaving?” She asks, despite it being obvious that you are planning to.

Wobbling slightly, you slip your jacket over your shoulders. “Mhm, it’s late.”

She sits up and moves to stand by the door, grabbing her trusty bomber jacket.

You tilt your head confusedly, “What are you doing?’

Sam looks at you like it’s obvious, “I’m gonna walk you home. It’s dark, you shouldn’t go alone.”

A series of giggles bubble out of your mouth, “No, you stay here Sam. Besides, if you walk me home, I’ll have to walk you home so you aren’t alone in the dark.”

She smiles despite the stupidity of it all. Then, a thought crosses her mind. She probably shouldn’t, she knows, but she can’t help herself from offering it up as an option.

“How about you spend the night here?”

Your eyes are wide, doe-like, and you pause to consider the offer. “Hmm, okay. That’s the most fair thing to do.”

Sam’s pleased with herself, glad to have found a happy medium where neither of you would have to worry about the other’s safety.

“Take my bed for the night, I’ll do the couch.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, no.”

You walk over to her, grab her hand, and tug her towards her bedroom. She doesn’t protest.

Once inside her bedroom, you nudge her so that she’s standing in front of her bed.

“You sleep here, I’ll take the couch.”

She goes to argue, but you shush her.

You lift your still-joined hands and press a kiss to the top of hers.

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

You release your hold on her and shuffle out of the room.

The next morning, she smiled at your sleeping form as she passed the couch on her way to work.

Things shifted in your relationship after that night. Sam still told herself you two were just friends, despite the way you both acted like more.

You started coming over to the apartment just to see her whenever she was free. The two of you would cook together, flirty comments thrown in here and there as the food was prepared. Other times you would watch a movie on the loveseat, sat so close together that your thighs touched.

When you were too busy to travel through the chaotic NYC transportation systems to visit Sam, you’d FaceTime her. Though you claimed to be bored, you both knew the real reason for the calls.

Her feelings for you grew, and yours did too.

Though you had a sneaking suspicion that she returned your feelings, you didn’t want to pressure the older girl. She’d gone through far too much, and so you’d be patient and wait for her to come around to the idea of something more.

And when temptation calls, I never pick up

Sam’s urge to kiss you popped up a few more times.

You were always so thoughtful, she couldn’t help it.

On days when you knew she’d worked a late shift the night before, you’d appear at the door with her favorite coffee and a muffin the following morning.

You texted her nightly, reminding her to eat if she hadn’t already.

You’d go to parties with Tara, not because you wanted to, but to keep an eye on her for Sam’s sake.

You memorized her therapy schedule and made sure to send a heart or some sweet little message right when the session ended.

Safe to say, Sam had fallen for you despite her desperate attempts not to.

Though she was tempted to say something to you, she always made sure to hold herself back.

She was deeply traumatized and had the scars to prove it, you deserved better than someone like her, someone your age who was actively building a future for themselves instead of working two dead end jobs and struggling to afford the city’s high cost of living.

More than that, she had her younger sister to consider. She didn’t know how she could possibly tell Tara, wasn’t sure if the shorter girl would find it weird for her to be dating someone practically the same age as her.

You were just too young and it would never work out between you two because of it.

You bring me joy, joy, joy, joy and you fill a void that was once missing

Sam had been avoiding you for a while, and you were upset. You’d grown used to spending all of your time with the older girl and quite honestly, you missed her.

So you did what any person would do and showed up on her doorstep. You were slightly nervous, Sam usually sent you her weekly schedule so you knew when she’d be working but she hadn’t this week.

You aren’t sure if you’ve done something wrong or if something has happened, but you’re sure that you’re about to find out.

Sadly, you aren't, because it’s Quinn that opens the door.

“Oh hi, sorry I’m just looking for Sam?”

Quinn gives you a small smile, waving you in. “She’s not here, I think she’s working late at the bar tonight. You can come in and wait though.”

“Okay.” You enter the apartment and chat idly with Quinn for a bit. She shares a few stories of her recent hookups before she has to leave to attend her evening class.

You’re alone in the Carpenter’s apartment, so you decide to make yourself useful and prepare a dinner for them. They almost never had time to do so, practically living off of cheap takeout, and you’re more than happy to try to sneak in a few solid meals for them here and there.

Sam always looked at you so gratefully whenever she came home to a nice dinner, so maybe it’d get you back into her good graces. If it didn’t, at least you’d know she got some sort of nutrition in her diet.

Lucky for you, someone has gone shopping recently, so you get to work on making a spaghetti dish with a salad to go with it.

Along the way, you lose track of what you’re doing. When you’re finally finished with cooking, you realize that you’ve unconsciously set the table and dimmed the lights to create a more calming atmosphere.

Whoops?

The apartment door opens, and in walks a very tired looking Sam. Her shoulders are hunched over, and she kicks her boots off, uncaring of where they land.

You make a small noise and she halts, snapping her head up and gasping at the sight of you and the display of food on the dining table.

“Hey Sam, sorry, Quinn let me in and I kind of got carried away but I can go if you wan-”

Her firm body slams into yours, and she wraps you up into a tight hug.

You sigh and melt into the contact, tucking your head underneath her chin. A pleased sound rumbles through her chest and she pulls you impossibly closer.

When she pulls away, she tilts your chin up gently so that you’re looking into her eyes. The deep brown color is swirling with emotion and you’re struck by the beauty of them.

“Thank you,” she says softly, “This week has been so shitty and you just made everything better.”

Your eyebrows knit together, concernedly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Here, go sit.”

She obeys, and sits in her usual spot. You fix her a plate, making sure to grab an extra bowl so she can serve herself some salad.

You place it in front of her and move to sit across from her.

Sam eats while you make little jokes and teasing comments, and she’s sure that this is the way things are meant to be. All her troubles are pushed out of her mind. Her father’s voice is silent. The people that hate her are so momentarily insignificant she forgets they even existed in the first place.

You make her so happy, and with you, the person she was before she was attacked, before the drugs, before her father walked out on her, that person feels safe enough to come out. The piece of her that was missing returns, and it’s all because of you.

You’re washing her dishes, and carefully listening to her talk about her horrible week, and Sam finally feels herself snap.

When you’re drying your hands on the small towel that hangs beneath the sink, she’s grabbing you by the shoulders and twisting you around to face her.

“Wha-”

Her lips are on yours, no hesitation, no going back. You’re too stunned to return the kiss for a moment, but god when you finally do? It’s perfect, too perfect. Your soft lips against her slightly chapped ones drive her wild, along with the soft little gasps and groans you’re releasing. It’s everything, but she’s waited so damn long for this that it’s still somehow not enough.

Her hips are pinning yours to the sink, her hands clutching both sides of your face. It’s then that she growls lowly, bites your lip, and slips her tongue into your mouth when you moan in pleasurable pain.

Sam’s kisses are incessant, furious and intense, just like her. You want to get lost in them forever, would gladly do so.

But then, all too soon, she’s pulling back and touching her lips as if her mind has finally caught up to her actions.

You should find someone else // I’m not the one for you, shit, I’m still growing up by myself

“Wait, wait, we can’t.”

You’re still dazed, not quite sure what she means. “Huh?”

“I can’t do this, I-” She runs her hands down her face, clearly in distress.

“Sam, it’s okay, calm down.”

She shakes her head, “No, I can’t.” She continues, “I’m sorry, but this will never work. You deserve better than me.”

She’s sighing, raking a hand through her long hair, “I’m older than you, I’m fucked up. I’m not what you deserve. I don’t have anything figured out. You’re young, you should find someone else, someone your age who’ll be grown up by the time they’re my age.”

You’re frowning at her. “Sam, none of that is true.”

Boy I know that we could be more than just friends // But you’re scared

She’s scoffing, doubtful.

But you refuse to give up so easily, “Sam, look. It doesn’t matter, okay? I don’t care that you don’t have a stupid college degree or a 9-5 job.”

She looks at you so sadly, “But you should. I’m a mess, and that’s not what you deserve. We’d never work.”

You’re frustrated. “Look, I don’t care about what I deserve! It doesn’t matter to me, not when you exist.”

You step forward, moving into her personal space. You cup her cheek, thankful that she doesn’t move away from the touch. Your thumb strokes her skin softly while you talk, “We both know that we aren’t just friends. We could be so much more, and it would work, Sam. You’re scared, and I get why, but this is what we both want. Please don’t punish yourself for thinking I deserve more than you. You’re what I want, the only one I want.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and press a chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back.

“I love you, Sam. So much. All you have to do is let me, and I will.”

Sam searches your eyes, and finds only love looking back at her.

She’s been selfless for so long now, maybe it’s time she started thinking about herself and what she deserves, what she wants, what she needs.

She deserves to be happy with you, she wants to, and she needs to.

So for once in her life, she stops being so worried about everyone else, and lets herself have you.

With a sweet, meaningful kiss to your lips, you get your answer.

“I love you too.”

And girl I know that you’re the one for me

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #lonelym00n fic

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Text

AS TAINTED AND AS FLAWED AS YOU (V)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VI

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 6.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, blood, talks about gore, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wondered what the doves had felt when they had gotten ripped apart. Were they already dead by the time the fingers had torn into them, breaking their hollow bones, or had they been alive—past the burning; past the evisceration of their intestines? You don’t want to think about it, but thinking is the only thing you can do. Think, think, think one horrible thought after another until you’re sinking in a pool of gore.

Your Mom shakes your shoulder and you startle back to the scene of her office.

Eyes widening, you clear your throat quickly and speak above the palpitations of your heart. “Yeah?”

The woman’s wrinkles tighten.

“I asked if you wanted any water, Beauty.”

Stop calling me that.

“Please.” A cup is held in front of your face, and you slowly take it as the box on the other side of the room is stuck in the sides of your vision. Two investigators mull over it, muttering to themselves and sending glances over their shoulders.

Yaromir and Galina. Both are tall and dressed in dark jackets—a patch on their left arm. The inky ties contrast with a pale button-up seen under the collar.

You haven’t even spoken to them.

Taking a long drag from your cup, you focus on taking down the liquid through your tight throat. There’s a certain point where shock overtakes the ability to think properly—you don’t know how to act except to respond to issues as they arise.

You were supposed to go home right after AMA, but your mom had gotten a call from the Operational Officers. It seemed Nikto had been in touch, and they had given the order to come here for as much information as you could give, which, admittingly, was little.

Everything you’d given was still the same as it had been after the explosion.

“Nikto?” Your lips are cold.

The man blinks from the corner of the room, slightly shifting his head your way from where he watches the scene quietly. Your eyes lock and after a moment you raise the glass.

“Do you need anything?”

His chest slightly raises in a sigh.

“... Negative. I am,” the Russian pauses, the fingers behind his back twitching. “Adequate.”

You hum and pretend you heard what he said above the ringing in your ears. This was how you acted right after the scene in the bakery as well. Like a walking corpse.

“They already called into AMA,” your mom side-eyes Nikto, her eyebrows pulling in tightly before they slide back to you and lessen. In her face is the sheen of hidden concern. “The CEO was told he can’t keep you in the building if there’s an immediate threat to your life or the lives around you—it’s all up to you until the investigation is over if you want to go back.”

“Okay,” your response is short and swift. You set the glass to your lips and take back the last few droplets, wishing it was wine instead. Even like this, you knew that you would still drag yourself through the front doors of your work—you needed the job. You can’t do anything else properly.

Mom sighs, the jewelry at her wrists jingling as her hands come up to rub at her temple.

“This might offer us something—fingerprints, DNA. It’s better than incinerated pieces, at the very least.” You put your cup on the desk, hands coming back to wrap around your middle with shaking fingers finding purchase in your jacket fabric.

“Has Dad written?” Her slate body freezes like stone.

It’s a long time before she speaks, and when she does, it’s a firm utterance that comes from her throat. The investigators are still speaking to one another, and Nikto’s dead eyes are stuck on the two of you in interest. His chin minutely tilts down.

“No.”

You don’t know if that’s the answer, or if it’s a command for you to stop the road you’re going down. Either way, you flatten your lips and say no more, your knee jumping with nerves.

“Ma’am,” Galina speaks louder, addressing you. Your head pivots, breath sounding heavy as you lick your lips. The woman’s long, dark, hair is tied back in a ponytail, tight to her skull. Doe-like eyes don’t stray from yours. “I will need to be in contact with your manager.”

“Alright,” she continued to stare, face bland. Your heart jerks. “Do…do you need his number?”

“It would be swifter than having to gain it from elsewhere.”

You nod, face heating.

“Sorry,” your lips mutter, hand delving into your pocket to pull out your device and unlock it, swiping through contacts before finding the correct one and listing off the numbers slowly. Galina writes them down on a piece of paper from her notebook and says little more before she turns back around to her partner and addresses him.

“Explain it to them, I have to make a call.”

Yaromir huffs, standing up and grimacing down at the ‘gift’ with his clean-cut face. The woman walks out the door with steady steps, Nikto paying close attention to how her eyes slide to him, how they narrow, and how her lips twist at his mask—gaze icy.

There was no question as to whether these two disliked his involvement in this case, and how they had to listen to his input as a former member of the Russian forces with far more knowledge than they could ever possess. Perhaps Nikto’s lips quirked at that, chest stuck with a pleased grunt as Galina stalked away and closed the door behind her.

But there was time for his arrogant nature later. Yaromir speaks with his light accent.

“There will be more patrols around your penthouse,” Nikto was always surprised by the lack of action in civilian life—if it was his choice, the stalker would have already had a bullet through his chest before he had the chance to bomb that bakery. But at the very least, he knew that his mind was not one to rely on.

You shift in his peripheral view, and he knows you’re afraid. Nikto’s feet shift from under him.

“Our resources are not infinite, but if we can’t pull anything from this,” a vague hand gesture to the mutilated animals. “There may be a need too…” Yaromir pauses.

Your mother speaks before you can.

“Too what?”

“He is saying he will need more,” Nikto’s voice is a harsh crunch of cords, of black ice.

You tilt your head to implore him of his meaning, and he does so while not looking away from you. You were his charge after all.

“More gifts.”

Yaromir is swift with his response. “I-I do not mean…that is only if we can get nothing out of the box—”

“What?” Your face is twisted up with disgust and shock, sputtering out as your head snaps back to the officer. “No!”

“It is imperative that we avenge the lives of our three countrymen.” He shakes his head, raising an arm as your mother sits in silence, her lungs taking down a deep breath. “You must see our stance on this.”

Your face falls.

Nikto doesn’t know why, or maybe he does, but the sentence makes his hands tighten like no other, a rage breeding in his chest.

“You’re saying that I,” you stutter, and the soldier can see the way your neck pulses with the speed of blood. “You expect me to try and accept more of them? More presents from a man that’s intent on getting to me and doing God knows what?”

In your brain, you know the truth.

They’re more concerned about the lives they deem important, and you don’t fit into that graph.

“Nothing will harm you,” Nikto growls. “Not while I’m here.”

He’s given a firm stare.

“You agree with this?”

“I have never said that,” he grunts, voice stiff as a board. “Simply stating my mission.”

For the first time working with you, he sees your face go tight with distrust and his eyelids twitch slightly lower.

“Beauty,” you’re shaking your head, hands raising up and waving back and forth as you stand up swiftly.

“Are you going to defend this?” Your mom’s eyes dart away before wafting back.

“It’s all that they can do,” you scoff wetly. “And that’s only if they don’t find anything. You need to think about this logically.”

“Nothing about this involves logic,” you snap, immediately feeling bad about the taken-aback expression on the Consul’s face.

Steadying yourself on the back of the chair, you miss Nikto taking a firm step forward, his hands at his sides in case you were to trip or fall. He had gotten good at noticing when your feet might get tangled and had taken to silent protection without delay.

“What the hell?” You move away and run a hand down your jacket, trying to push off the panic in your flesh as best you’re able before you make a fool of yourself. Your body shivers and seeps tension, but you make it to the door relatively alright.

“Seraph!”

You’re down the hallway and clenching your eyes tight, turning a corner and smacking your arm into it with a stifled inhale.

Walking, you hear the steady thump of Nikto’s boots behind you, trailing after as his shadow joins the mass of black and gray in your vision. He says nothing until you push open the door and exit the Consulate building entirely, your pupils tiny and mind running.

“You are going to—” Your heels twist from under you, and your mouth releases a squeak before Nikto’s arm jerks out and loops around your waist, steadying you easily before your face can meet the ground.

His hand presses into your side, harsh fingers sitting there as he slightly leans over you. The open street is mostly empty today, so what embarrassment you can glean from this is limited to your stoic guard.

Nikto grunts, making sure you’re not about to do it again, and he pulls you up. He waits until you’re steady to release you, head moving to spear you open with an exasperated tweak of his invisible brow.

You open your mouth to speak but find you have no words to say into the cold air. Turning your head away and walking to the car by yourself, your body is hunched in and bearing the weight of mountains, moments and memories flashing back and forth.

Aly had been blowing up your phone, text after text—call after call asking if you were okay. All you’d managed was a short, ‘I’m okay. At Mom’s work.’

That had stopped the calls, at least, but not the texts.

Nikto unlocked the car just as your hand looped the handle, and you got inside the back seat. The Russian watches from behind on the sidewalk, keys in one hand and the other open to the air. Thinking. He moves his neck from one end of the street to another, face under his mask tense and hard as he breathes slowly. Like some wolf, he only clicks his tongue before loping to the driver’s side.

As you stare hard into your lap, he barks out to you.

“We are taking you to store. Will get good food to make. Proper food.” Your spine straightens itself as the engine groans to life.

“We,” your face goes confused, voice small. Three burnt bodies. Ripped feathers. “We can’t do that…what if…?”

“You will be safe with me. I said this, did I not, Whelp?” Dead eyes move from the reflection of the mirror, glancing at yours. “We are going.”

And that was how you two ended up standing in the black and white grocery store, Nikto causing people to splinter off and regard you both with concerned glances. But some of those stares are your fault as well.

You pass a newspaper as you carry your basket, the picture of a fiery bakery on the front cover—your form clearly desirable. Your body halts at that, blankly watching before a hand settles over your spine.

“Move. I have list.”

“I know you do,” you say weakly, stomach rolling nearly to an alarming level. “Let’s just…do this quick, alright?” Nikto scoffs lightly, but seems to agree with that as he carefully prods you along.

The store was close to your penthouse, expensive, but close. You had told him he could do the shopping. Clearing your throat, you try to distract yourself from staring at every face turned your way—every hidden expression.

What if he knows I’m here? He doesn’t. But how do you know that he doesn’t? He found you at the bakery—he waited for you to show up at work to deliver the box. He knows. He’s watching me. He’s right behind my back, waiting to drag me off somewhere and—

“What are we getting, Nikto?” Your shaking tone leaves you clenching your teeth, blinking away the panic.

You’re fine.

“I tried to understand what you were saying in the kitchen, but my Russian is…bad, to put it lightly.”

“We know.” He’s not looking at you, but instead at the rows of cut meat he had brought you to. Your attention moves from one point on the wall to another, mouth salivating at the thought of good food. With it comes a sliver of guilt. “Many things,” Nikto responds to your previous question.

“Many?” Your brows furrow, turning back. “How many?”

“Many.” You dryly stare at the back of his head as he moves forward, picking up what he wants and disposing of it into your basket.

He carts you around like a pet, hand stuck to the back of your shoulder and fingers an inch away from holding on if you were to knock into something. You don’t know if he knows, but being able to lean into his firm grip made walking that much easier without having to put a hand on the wall.

Perhaps he did know, with how he looks down at you every so often. Your heart warms at that, no matter how much it still fights to break out of your ribcage.

“Where did you learn to cook, then,” you ease out slowly. You need a distraction. “On a military base?”

A single, sharp bark of a laugh makes your head snap up to Nikto and many people down the way startle. It was like a hyena, but in a way, you didn’t expect anything else to come from the man. You don’t know why, but your lips quirk at that, tight hold on your basket lessening.

It was…charming. In a deadly, cold way.

“Нет, Woman. No, no.” His mask meets you. “You do not know what base is like, hm?”

“I can’t say I do,” your attention turns to the hulking form, paranoia sitting in the backseat. But he was speaking to you, and you liked it when he did. “Explain it to me?”

Pale eyes blink at you, head tilting as silence settles.

“Ладно.” He takes a slight breath and you see his vest rise and fall, the strength of his chest pushing it out. “They are strict—tight, yes?”

You listen intently, not looking away. He seems less of a nail in the wall while he’s here, able to focus on what meals he’ll make and how to pair something nicely. That head of his moves back and forth like a bird.

“Not allowed in the военный продовольственный магазин. We only eat when we are told—least,” Nikto hitches a shoulder, blinking at a head of cabbage that he takes and places into a bag before handing it to you. “That is what military base is like. KorTac is different, only PMC. Non-affiliated.”

“I know a little about that part,” you relay, taking the gray lump from him and carefully placing it into the basket. “What made you want to leave the forces, then? The official ones?” Your nose puffs softly. “Was it the food?”

You feel more than see the tension fill his body, and it’s not a second later that his hand pulls from your shoulder and you blink at the back of his head as he leaves you there. Stuck on the tile below your heels, your face is open with innocent confusion.

“Nikto…?” You call after, hiking the basket farther in your grip. But he doesn’t turn around, and soon he takes a sharp left and you’re left alone. It was like a flip had been switched inside of him, such a sudden and dangerous dismissal.

Throat making a small noise, you frown, lips pulling down like a bent cord.

“...Okay,” your voice whispers, and you shake your head to yourself before turning around to walk to the front.

It didn’t take more than two steps before a man pushed past you, bumping into your shoulder as you stumbled at the sharp slam of flesh and bone. Your eyes go wide before you have to slap a hand to the metal of the nearby aisle shelves to stop gravity. Dropping the basket with a loud clatter, you call out a heavy, “Hey!”

Half on the floor, you hurriedly straighten yourself, a hand on the back of your sleeve helping.

“I apologize, Sir, but you really need to look where you’re walking when you’re so close to someone else.” Standing, you take a deep breath and re-situate your purse quickly, pulling on the strap so you don’t lose it. “Lord, that could have been bad.”

What would have happened if you hit your head?

The scar on the back of your skull burns.

“Seraph?” You blink, before your head swivels—the fingers letting go of your sleeve quickly.

You’re surprised by who you see.

“...Sergi?”

The Baker’s Boy had his dark eyes boring into you—his mess of curls looking better than they had been when you’d gone to visit him and sitting under a ball cap. There was the white glare of bandages along his cheeks and neck.

Your spine is tight.

“Hi,” your voice is light and airy. “I didn’t,” you stutter in shock, hand moving down to grab the handles of the basket delicately. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How…how are you doing?”

Sergi doesn’t speak.

A small tone of uncomfortableness seeps into your chest at the intensity of those black voids. Your vision dips to the dark hoodie and pants—the way he sticks his hands into his pockets and backs up a step.

You hadn’t noticed how large Sergi actually was. Tall, biceps built from the strain of working in the bakery every day. At his dead stare, the sides of your eyes train in, fingers tightening over the handle of your belongings in confused hesitance.

Your gaze darts to where Nikto had disappeared and you mirror Sergi’s prior move and back up yourself—a strange game of chess. Your free hand comes to itch at your temple.

“It’s good to see you walking.” Testing an obviously fake laugh, your arms start shaking, the painful pinch of nerves stuck under your skin. “Is the bakery going to be alright?”

Sergi’s phone goes off in his pocket, and his hand snaps to it like lightning. You flinch, heart palpitating though you don’t know why—this man couldn’t be your stalker…he…he couldn’t be.

Then why did your hair stand on end when he looked at you like that?

Before Sergi sets the device to his ear, he turns and says in his broken English—stiffly, worriedly, “Go home, Girl. Take the man with you.”

“Man?” You ask to air before the Baker’s Boy turns and hurries back the way he came. The thought comes slowly and in a moment of chilled air and you place one foot forward after him as your eyes go wide. “...How do you know about Nikto?”

He’s already gone.

People walk past you on their own business, one even clipping your right shoulder again, but you don’t notice above the ringing in your ears when shadows slink past. Your chest is tight, and your lungs are held in the grip of ruthless fingers.

Dead doves. Burnt bodies. Half a man.

You place your free hand over your mouth, fast breath being forced from your throat.

What does it feel like to burn?

“Why are you here?” Nikto’s angry voice is in your head just as his hand grabs onto your arm. You get pulled to face him, face devoid of blood. “Why did you not follow?”

He continues to speak, and you stare blankly into his chest as he does. Nikto’s words grow tight on his tongue, cutting out swiftly as he clocks the expression on your face.

Terror.

The soldier instantly grows taller, a great void looming as his head scans the aisle. He reaches for the grip of his Beretta, resting his expansive palm there as what annoyance can be gleaned dries instantly.

Only a wolf is left behind.

“Explain,” is what he numbly asks, and you push out on a quick breath.

“Baker’s boy—Sergi. Dark hair and eyes, tall; muscular.”

A growl. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you gasp and Nikto doesn’t seem to believe you. “He didn’t do anything. I just had a strange feeling, and I-I can’t place it. He knew you were here with me.”

The hand on your arm tightens, squeezing. You pull what little safety you can from it and swaddle yourself like a child in the blanket of his aura. That packaging of brutality like tissue paper.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you huff, body slanting forward. There was so much stress on you—taking you down with it. Days, and weeks, and months. Never getting answers, never thinking it would go this far.

You were a model, for Christ’s sake. You starred in pictures because people said you were pretty. You don’t feel pretty. You feel violated.

“Enough,” the man grunts, moving his grip to your shoulder to push your spine back up. He knows that the individual you speak of is gone, and his teeth grind in on themselves. “No, you are not.”

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you stare at his shoes without saying anything in return.

Hard fingers loop under your chin, and your gaze is forced forward—so much so like he was about to slather mascara on your lashes in the clutter of your room. Panting, you find your nose nearly brushing his as he bends his neck down into you.

“Focus, Woman.”

Focus? Focus on what?

You stare into the paleness of his eyes, finding the layered flecks that shift like a cursed kaleidoscope with glass bits and a broken lens. They aren’t kind eyes, you know. They’re dead and buried, already six feet under and layered with packed dirt—pounded by the path of rushing feet charging into gunfire.

Oh, but they were beautiful.

Forcing oxygen to come back to you, your lids flutter at the heat of his fingers under your chin, intoxicating as his thumb finds your pulse point and presses in; feeling, studying—analyzing with those cold orbs.

And so you do, even unknowingly—you focus on the raw presence of a man already long gone. On a man with cruelty laced into his DNA, seeping from his stone heart.

Why do you feel like this? What had he done to make your face burn at the way his gaze was locked with yours? Nothing was the answer, he had done nothing.

Then why? Why had you chosen him? The answer felt like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite swallow it down. Damnit, your head was hurting.

Did Nikto have a soulmate?

All at once as the word comes back in a slow crash of cold waves, the hand on your chin disappears, and you blink rapidly.

The Russian bear grunts as you take a long breath and quickly look away from his direct gaze. Nikto’s covered face tilts, sliding over the color of your eyes and clenching his jaw before he rips his attention away.

Your scent was in his nostrils.

“We are leaving. Немедленно.” Nikto barks, and you've checked out before you can tell him you were going to pay, the man handing over a wad of rubles from his wallet and slapping it to the front.

He shoves past and snatches the bags, lugging all of the ingredients back to the car in one hand as his other rarely strays from his weapon. You have your arms wrapped around your waist as you hurry after, loathed to be separated from him again as your body moves to look along the open area. But no Sergi.

Your shoulders pull in, and somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

Would he really destroy his family's bakery? Kill three people? He had never seemed the type when you had gone into that quaint building—he had been kind. Something wasn’t adding up, but at the same time…there was no mistaking that feeling in your gut. Was it all a coincidence?

You shouldn’t have to think like this.

The drive back to your penthouse is quiet, and you desperately wish to ask what Nikto plans to do about this. The answer is apparent when the elevator door opens and he slinks off without a word—pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing up a number before he enters the downstairs storage room.

Your eyes close in a moment of forced calm, and you grab the bags and lug them inside with a grimace on your face and a strain in your muscles. Glancing at your mounted deer head, you frown at it.

“He wasn’t lying about ‘many’, was he?” You ask it quietly, and its gray form offers no answer as its adornments glint like stars. For the first time, the stale air makes your chest tighten.

You had everything put away by the time Nikto came back out—a long and growled call that you could hear but not understand beyond a few barks of Sergi’s name. He had sounded angry, and you’d heard his feet pacing.

The man didn’t like interference with his charge; the officers needed to get better at their jobs.

When Niko’s gruff voice calls to you, your head shifts easily to the side from where you lay on the couch—scrolling through the texts you’d gotten from Aly and your newsfeed.

“I am making пирожки́, Pirozhki.” Your brows pull in. Was…he not going to talk about what just happened? You potentially just got a lead on your tormenter. “You will watch, yes? Learn. Eat.”

“Who did you call?” Your voice carries over the space as you stand. “What did they say?”

“Lead investigator,” is the stiff answer as ingredients are gathered, gloves taken off, and folded neatly before being placed on the counter. “The boy has already been cleared.”

You nearly trip before as ease yourself down into the island seat, mouth going slack as you stutter. “What? Even after this? Did you tell them that he knew about you—?”

“Their logic says that since he was in explosion, he can not be the cause.” A look is tossed over his shoulder as he washes his hands. “I told them to look again, but I am only a hired gun, Girl. No standing with them beyond prior work for military.”

His accent grows deeper and deeper with his anger, and you have a hard time understanding the last portion—nonetheless, you get the point.

“He wasn’t acting right,” you mutter to yourself, fingers intertwined on the countertop. “Maybe I was wrong, but…” Your voice trails and a cutting board is clattered to the area in front of you; you startle and look at Nikto in surprise.

Pale eyes boar.

“A feeling is all you need. Do not mistake them, they will keep you alive.”

“Little bit morbid,” you nervously chuckle, face twisting.

His hidden throat jerks in a baritone scoff. “It is life.”

Mushrooms and potatoes are organized—minced meat separated from the head of cabbage. A bowl is produced, and water, yeast, and sugar are added in to proof. Through these quick and efficient actions, you try to get rid of the growing hunger in your stomach, or at least quell it with a glass of wine you get for yourself.

But you can see Nikto’s bare hands as they level out a knife and send it down into the cabbage, you lock onto the deep scars that peel over his hands as he pulls the food into two pieces.

You restrain a small gasp, clearly able to understand what they are as the paleness of his complexion grows even lighter in those areas. Expansive—can see where the sutures had gone in; tiny dots in the flesh that pull and flex. Nikto’s brutish fingers are not saved from those marks either, and you hadn’t noticed before, but on his left hand, his index finger was shorter than the others. You can find the jagged pieces of gray skin that curl over where the last third of his digit should be.

Struggling to open your mouth and speak, you look away swiftly before a slow realization blooms in your chest.

Maybe there was a darker reason he never took off his mask. Those marks weren’t made from any kind hand.

Struggling to add this to your catalog of full files, you bring your wine glass to your lips and take a small sip, enjoying the feeling as it settles in your stomach. After a long minute of his silent work, you begin the next round of questioning, choosing not to comment.

“What do you think about all of this?” His chopping pauses but he doesn’t glance at you before he gets back into it. “And be honest, please.”

“I am always honest,” Nikto grunts, pushing away the cabbage and getting to the mushrooms with his decimated hand. A harsh sigh. “I would have this ended in a day. Pointless hoops and politics. They do not care about you, you know this?”

“Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious,” you agree lowly, cradling your glass as you continue. “But the gifts, and all of that—do you think there’s any hope for DNA?”

“Нет. We do not.” Your heart drops. “If this individual was smart enough to fashion an explosive with that much firepower; a detonator, then there will be no remnants of him on box.”

“The…” Your face is locked with his, and he blinks slowly like a cat. “The contents don’t worry you? The thought of more like that?” Dead doves. Dead animals. Dead people. Who was to say this creep wouldn’t kill someone else and send you their body parts next?

“I have seen worse things, Whelp,” Nikto states slowly, though not unkindly. “The problem is if you insist on it yourself.”

Your face heats at the eye contact he levels with you, and you grow somewhat sheepish, even if the conversation makes your expression serious.

The air is hot here, and your button-up shifts as you reach to bring your drink back to you as flour is added to the yeast mixture. Nikto’s form looked funny, mixing in the white stain of the ingredient in such a regular-sized bowl.

The man waits for your answer as he works, and he stops inadvertently when you do with a small utterance and a tense twitch of your lips.

“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me, y’know?” Nikto flickers his eyes to stare, but he says nothing until he returns to his job a long, heated, minute later, his hand flexing over the handle of his whisk. You hear the small vibration of a grunt. The smell of yeast is in the air, mixing and swelling when the meat is added to a pan with the cabbage, mushrooms, and potatoes that had been brought to a boil prior.

It made your stomach roll like a lava field—and you pushed out through a tight throat, “How many calories are in this?”

“Not important,” Nikto says, turning on the oven. “You will eat.”

Your tongue licks your lips, trying to taste the food in the air like a snake would; head shaking. God, that smelled good.

“It’s…not that simple, Big Guy.” Nikto scoffs.

“You will like it. Easy dish.” You roll your eyes and let yourself acknowledge how tired you feel and it isn’t even that late into the afternoon.

Nikto stirs the food, and you watch him break a piece of meat and check the color to see if it’s ready—you’re just about to tell him about the food thermometer in the drawer, but the words fizzle away.

The man hums in approval and takes the pan off the heat.

Yet the grand revelation of his ability to see in more than black and white was hurriedly cut short by the buzzing of your phone in your pants, and your slackened face is snapped away at least for a moment, though your mind runs. You peel the device out with an unsteady hand, flipping it over to stare at the text from your mother through tight revelation.

‘The investigators couldn’t find any fingerprints. They said they need more. Galina relayed that your manager wasn’t in his office when the package showed up. No one knows where it came from or who could have gotten in without being noticed by the cameras. They’ll both call you in the morning to explain.’

Your disappointments keep stacking up and up, and this just takes the cake.

“You were right,” you tell Nikto as he folds dough and stuffs the filling in. He glances over with a twinkle in his eye. “No fingerprints.”

“Cameras?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m getting a call in the morning.” The soldier clicks his tongue at that, moving back to grab an oven-safe vessel. You think about mentioning his ability to see color, but with how he was freely speaking to you, you thought it wrong to potentially make him shut down as he had in the elevator and at the store.

Nikto was intent on being a brick wall.

“Loops, Girl.” He snarls. “There was none of this in my employment. We were told to shoot, we shoot.”

“I think there would be a bigger problem if you went on a killing spree, Nikto,” you half-heartedly tease, feeling worn out. “But I guess I agree with you on that.”

“Perfect. You see sense, finally.” Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you swear you saw his eyes flicker with amusement.

“Don’t let your head get too big,” you grumble, finishing off the last of your drink and swirling the remnants of its dark color at the bottom of your glass. “I can barely take your attitude as it is.”

“Our pride is good trait.” He lets the food cook, walking over and putting his humongous hands on the counter, either side of the cutting board from prior. Nikto looks down at you as you stare up, wanting to peel back his brain and see what is under there—a monster? Or a scarred man?

If there was a harsh mixture of both, you’re sure that would be the answer.

“Makes us strong.”

“Headstrong, yes,” you smirk, pointing at his chest. He scoffs, head pulling back for a moment in a rare animated display as his eyes narrow.

“You are certainly not from Russia, Woman.”

You raise your empty glass in your joking toast, heart beating just the tiniest bit more calm.

“Certainly not.” Nikto barks that hyena chuckle and flicks the item with a finger, making it ping for a moment as you chuckle before setting it down to the side and sliding it away.

“Thank you for cooking, I haven’t had a good meal in a while.”

The man hums, looking away as if not able to comprehend a kind expression freely given to him. Your heart swoons. “You have not eaten it yet,” he reminds.

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t good.” You smile honestly at him. “I bet it’s fantastic.”

Nikto’s fingers flicker over the counter, twitching back in for a moment. But he does meet your stare, inspecting every piece of your face for a long, pulse-pounding moment. Electricity is in the air, and you don’t know if you’re the only one to feel it or not.

You hope you’re not.

You said you wouldn’t get involved, you remind yourself, but the inner voice is tiny now. He’s not Yefim, you placate it for now with a honied vision of fake domestically with a wolf.

Nikto was the complete opposite of Yefim.

An angel to a devil, a saint to a sinner. These men were taking over your thoughts in a ravaging war of memory and duty. Yet now…now you might have an answer as to why.

Nikto’s eyes narrow on you slowly, horribly scarred digit tapping the material under it before he clears his throat raggedly. You like his scars.

“It will be done soon.”

The man turns and begins cleaning up, and you ease out with a small laugh, “Are you sure you don’t want an apron?”

His annoyed growl returns, and you find you haven’t thought of Sergi or his strange behavior in a good while.

When the food is ready, you take a single fluffy bun and put it on your plate while Nikto takes six. You have to appreciate his appetite, at least, hearing him sigh low at the small of his creation. But before he leaves to take off his mask and eat by himself, he motions a stiff hand.

“Eat.”

You laugh, “Nikto, come on.” He isn’t laughing; isn’t blinking. Your throat bobs with a swallow, suddenly nervous. Your head moves to what you would have to cut back on later today as the scent of fresh bread and filling fills your senses.

You wanted to eat this, but you felt guilty about it.

One bite, you tell yourself. One bite isn’t bad.

The lack of food, and yet the temptation of it, infected your blood as Nikto watched you pick the Pirozhki up and bring it to your lips, teeth biting down into ashy cushioning before the salt of the meat and the other ingredients coated your mouth.

Your stomach sinks.

It was damn near heavenly.

You chew quickly as if your body is fighting itself to have you swallow it down. “It's good,” you lick your lips, hand already moving to bring it back up before you stop yourself with tension in your bones.

“It’s,” you say again, shifting your feet from under you as you stand near the oven. “It’s very good, Nikto. Just like I thought it would be.”

Those pale eyes, unblinking, flick down to the bun in your hand.

“...Hearty meal,” he explains, picking up his plate. “Eat as many as you wish, yes?”

He disappears up to his room, and you hear the door shut moments later. You watch the stairs blankly, unconsciously bringing the food to your lips and nibbling on the corner of your bite.

He was a good cook—this could end up being a problem. You already had a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror; add in meals that hold higher numbers? Your esophagus was already closing in on itself. It wasn’t just as simple as telling someone to eat, especially as a model.

You did eat, but it all was leveled and stacked. There was a limit you needed to keep.

But, hell, this was truly delicious.

In the time you spend in the kitchen, gorging yourself with half a mind to stop and the other egging you to keep going, you think. And you wonder.

Nikto had found his soulmate.

Could that be the reason for your attraction? For your wandering thoughts? It had to be, you reason. No one had ever caught your eye like him—the way you had become so comfortable and felt so safe around him despite his appearance and attitude. It had to be.

Your face stills.

So why hadn’t he told you?

You mull over your racing brain, your heart skipping beats. The two of you are oblivious in opposite corners of your penthouse; your minds on the other.

Downstairs, having been sneakily placed inside your jacket pocket hours before, lays the paper envelope of a hand-written letter.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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luciddownloading · 1 month

Text

Tarot Reading (Pick A Card): What Is Your Divine Feminine Energy? 🌷

Okay, it is time for another Tarot reading! Today, we are going to be discussing your Divine Feminine energy. Now, as I always say, this is not dependent on gender. A lot of women identify as Divine Feminine - someone with a predominance of feminine energy - but you can also be a male who embodies Divine Feminine. Just as a woman can embody Divine Masculine. It's also not about sexual orientation. It is just about how you feel inside and what you're drawn to.

We are all our own unique blend of masculine and feminine, after all. You also can't put those energies in a little box. There are many different types of masculinity and femininity and we are going to delve into the latter today.

Most of you here identify more as Divine Feminine. If so, aligning with your feminine self, leading with it and living life according to it, is what allows you to create your best life and be your best self. It's the key to your abundance. But, if you happen to resonate more as a Divine Masculine, this reading will just tell you what your feminine side is like and how to embrace it.

So, choose the image (or images) that you feel most pulled to and see what your Divine Feminine expression is. Please trust your intuition. If it doesn't sound like you or your inner potential, then it's not your pile. Also, I am not taking reversals today. I will see you in your pile, bestie!

PILE 1

PILE 2

PILE 3

PILE 4

PILE 1

Queen of Wands

(clarified by: The Moon)

The Fool

(clarified by: Three of Cups)

Four of Pentacles

(clarified by: Nine of Pentacles)

Page of Wands (back of the deck)

Pile 1, what immediately stands out to me here is this Queen of Wands popping out. It's one of the feminine archetypes in Tarot and we're talking about your Divine Feminine self. So, first of all, I think you are, in many ways, a very feminine person and identify as such. You have this really lovely energy and you just exude femininity, whether you are male or female. But, I also think you challenge traditional concepts of femininity. You are this Queen of Wands, which is a very beautiful yet very fierce energy. You have a softness to you but you are also formidable and not to be messed with. In fact, you see your femininity as a form of power that you wield confidently.

The song Maneater by Nelly Furtado is coming through. Regardless of if you're attracted to men or not, you have that energy. It's giving femme fatale, even if you're a male femme fatale of sorts. You're VERY alluring and sultry. You know it. And if you're protesting that you're not, um, you better start owning that shit, babe! Your Divine Feminine expression is highly seductive and reels so many admirers in. Part of it is the fact that you're very mysterious. I feel like you're so private and, in spite of being rather extroverted, you are not easily accessible. Some of you may not even have social media or, if you do, you barely post. This only leaves people wanting more. You are radiantly beautiful and shine so brightly but many people feel like they don't know much about you.

This mystique only elevates you in others' eyes. It's a kind of star quality. I can see you being "famous" in your own respect, whether that is being very well known in your community, having a big Internet presence or maybe even being actually famous one day. There is this major goddess energy to you. People want to put you on this pedestal and worship you or maybe even harbor jealousy because of that status of yours. I am getting this message that, for you, embracing your Divine Femininity means allowing yourself to be very worshipped and celebrated. I sense that could make some of you kind of uncomfortable but it's part of your spiritual path actually. You have this amazing goddess power within you (again, regardless of your gender, this is about energy). You were meant to be viewed as this absolutely gorgeous, exalted, abundant being that people really respect and adore.

Some of you may work closely with a particular goddess or have her as a Guide. Freya and Aphrodite are coming through, in particular. Aphrodite, especially, because of the rose quartz in this picture. You are like a goddess of beauty and love in your own right. Also, honestly, I am getting Regina George energy and I don't mean that in a negative way. (Rachel McAdams' version, of course, not the recent one) Obviously, Regina has her toxic traits but she is so beautiful and confident and magnetic, such a leader yet so feminine. And everyone is obsessed with her. You are seen that way and have that kind of impact on others. Yes, I am gassing you up! Accept it.

You definitely could have Fire sign placements in your chart (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) as well as the sign Pisces. You are very reflective and have more depth than some realize. Yet, you are also very self-assured. Knowing that you are that baddie that you have always felt you were is the key to your feminine expression. You know your worth and absolutely will not compromise it. In romance, in particular, you do not settle or accept poor treatment at all and that only makes you more attractive. Overall, you really don't struggle much with self-esteem. This also gives you the confidence needed to go after what you want in life. You live in a very bold, very daring way that only makes you more admirable. You are not afraid to take risks and make the most out of life.

Yet, there is also this juxtaposition to that ballsy spirit that is soft and sweet. Or maybe people just think you're so soft and sweet without realizing what a force of nature you really are until you have to show them who they're dealing with. Many of you may be very creative and love to perform. As an actor or singer, you could display that fierce side of you. I am getting like this amazing stage presence or screen presence. Your confidence in putting yourself out there helps as well as your natural sex appeal. A lot of people will fantasize about you and, in terms of your dating life, many will want to claim you as theirs. But, you belong to yourself, above all. I also feel like being very comfortable in your sexuality and owning/flaunting it, like a bombshell movie star or hot main pop girl, will serve you very well. Be that siren you know you can be!

Also, I feel compelled to say it's not just about looks. It's your aura, your sensuality, your magnetism and spirit. That attractiveness comes from your soul, more than anything, and that's why it's divine.

/////////

PILE 2

Page of Swords

(clarified by: The Hermit)

Six of Wands

(clarified by: Six of Swords)

Temperance

(clarified by: Page of Wands)

Ten of Swords (back of the deck)

Pile 2, I feel like your feminine expression is very introverted and internal. I immediately got the feeling that this pile is very studious and very intellectual. You may really, really love to read and could have genuinely enjoyed school growing up. I keep getting this image of Matilda, from the movie Matilda, of course (and the novel). I think many of you really enjoyed that film when you were kids and really identified with the main character. Your Divine Feminine self feels very connected to your inner child. Well, I think that's true for everyone. But, it's even truer for you because a lot of childhood pain is tied to this energy. You were very smart, introspective, observant and mature, like Matilda. And, similarly, you seem to have dealt with a lot of mistreatment at that age, too, likely at the hands of family or parents.

It might seem like that turbulence has followed you throughout your life. But, you are very diligent in terms of working through the trauma. You are a healer and have had to be a healer toward yourself. The good news is that there is no way you'll be a negative product of your environment. You have found the inner wisdom and awareness needed to rise above where you came from. This stems from your Divine Feminine self because feminine energy, after all, allows us to look deeply within and reflect. Sometimes, you are very withdrawn and maybe not all that social. But, you're never just laying around, thinking about nothing. You are exploring every part of your soul and your mind.

Having this incredibly rich inner life could make you very creative. You could be a writer and I am getting a poet, particularly. The feeling you're giving me is of those confessional female poets who have turned their emotional pain or past trauma into beautifully crafted poems. Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton came to mind, specifically. I am also getting the names of female writers, in general, who wrote classic novels about their trauma, painful romances or other issues they wanted to explore, like the Bronte sisters, Alice Walker or Maya Angelou (who was also a poet). Any of these writers could hold a lot of significance for you. They are like role models and examples of your feminine energy: intelligent, intriguing and gifted storytellers.

Okay, I am also getting the image of female singer-songwriter types, like Fiona Apple or Alanis Morissette. That kind of deep, intelligent lyricism. The songs Sullen Girl or Never Is A Promise, both by Fiona Apple, could have resonant lyrics. Lana Del Rey is also coming through. I am hearing Cinnamon Girl by her. Also, her song Fishtail. (A lot of songs in this one!) So, yeah, it's safe to say that you are either very artsy, a thoughtful writer in some capacity, or you're obsessed with a female artist or two like this (or both). And this is specific to some of you but you may be guided by a famous female artist: a poet or songwriter or novelist. She may be acting as a guide to you, whether she has passed on or is still alive but just guiding you through her higher self, especially if you do the same kind of art she did/does. She is helping you develop your talent and succeed. That may sound a little wild/out there but you'll know if it resonates.

Essentially, a big part of your Divine Femininity is about turning your pain or sadness into beautiful art. I am also being told that if you are striving to be an artist in some capacity, your Guides want to assure you that you are going to be successful. It may not be international fame (or it could be) but you will find a solid following, to some extent, and touch many people and be able to support yourself from it. Yet, I am also being told to say that you don't have to thrive on being a "sad girl" (and I mean that in a gender neutral way). You could struggle with anxiety or depression yet, like a typical tortured artist, feel like you need to be unhappy in order to be creative. (Yeah, if you're not creative, this probably isn't your pile lol)

Thinking like that is bad for your mental health. Your talent doesn't stem from your pain. It stems from your creative soul, your high intellect, and your ability to transmute your pain. There is a message here to not take yourself too seriously. Don't overthink everything and allow yourself to just live! You are doing so much better at life and progressing so much more on your healing journey than you think. Also, you may not realize how much you channel and commune with Spirit when you do your art, including that potential Guide who was/is an artist. You have the power to pull from the other realm when you create, which is amazing. Your feminine energy is both a deep well and a medium for divinity. Remember Matilda wasn't just smart. She also had supernatural powers!

Also, as far as signs, there are a lot here. You could have birth chart placements in Air (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) or Fire (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius). Sagittarius is coming through very strongly. There is also Virgo energy here.

/////////

PILE 3

The Sun

(clarified by: The Devil)

The Lovers

(clarified by: Three of Cups)

King of Wands

(clarified by: Knight of Swords)

The Tower (back of the deck)

Pile 3, I am getting a very interesting energy from your pile. First of all, you feel more androgynous, like there is such an equal amount of masculine and feminine within you that you can very easily switch back and forth between the two. Some of you may actually identify with being non-binary or gender fluid. But, that doesn't have to apply to everyone. You might have a hard time distinguishing your yin from your yang and not even want to label your energy in that way. As a result, people may sometimes not exactly know what to do with you and you may not often know what to do with yourself. You can suffer from deep insecurity at some stage in life because you feel like you're not enough of a boy or enough of a girl.

Well, I just have to say that is total bullshit and there's no such thing as being the ideal boy or ideal girl. It's a bunch of regressive ideas that are projected on to each gender and it only has to mean what you allow it to mean. While you might have taken a lot of shit growing up for your gender non-conforming ways and struggled with your self-esteem or self-confidence because of that, you were meant to stand out in this way! I feel like there is, specifically, a history of conventional behavior in your family that you may be destroying. All of the women in your family could have, for instance, conformed to restrictively "ladylike" or passive behavior. And if you're a woman, it may be your role to destroy that pattern. Or vice versa, if you're a male who witnessed a lot of toxic masculinity in your family.

I think the best way to describe your Divine Feminine self is that it doesn't rely on outdated ideas about femininity. It bends genders and breaks rules. I am also getting that you may be drawn to male role models who are very androgynous or embody a form of femininity. I am getting David Bowie, in particular, and his song, Rebel Rebel. I am also getting drag, like drag queens. You may love RuPaul's Drag Race and have a particular queen who you find very entertaining or reflects your personality. You might also know men irl who are more feminine and serve as inspiration. I am getting the feeling that many of you are female but more inclined to look up to feminine men because you just relate to them more. Or, if you're a man, you're just being challenged to look toward male role models who have more feminine energy.

Yeah, this is a very interesting pile. I feel like you have yet to begin to explore this true self but you are on the verge of it. Maybe you just recently had a Tower moment that showed you that the way you were living your life was painfully inauthentic, whether that was regarding your career, your love life or your identity. Some of you may even be coming out as gay or bi or trans or non-binary or you have recently. If so, just know that I am so proud of you and your Guides are so proud! Living your life honestly and fully is so, SO much more valuable than what anyone might think. This reading feels more like particular guidance and encouragement you needed to hear than anything else.

You could have Gemini or Capricorn energy in your chart, Fire placements (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius), especially Leo, or Air placements (again Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). You have had some demons you've had to deal with. Some of you may have even seen yourself as a demon in the past lol. Well, you're a lovable demon. No, I'm kidding. But, a lot of your past unhappiness came from not being who you were meant to be. You compensated for that with some kind of addiction, whether it was drugs/alcohol, sex, work, or even anger. Anything can be an addiction. I'm hearing Rehab by Amy Winehouse. It is possible to change and it doesn't have to be so scary!

I kind of feel like I lied to your pile with this reading because I am not getting many messages about your feminine self lol. But, this is only because you honestly have such toxic ideas about what masculine and feminine means that have been ingrained in you. So, you have a lot of unraveling to do in regards to that. But, it will be incredibly healing because you'll finally get to embrace your real self. And, yeah, for some reason, there is this insistent message about some sort of role model or even a guide in the form of a person that you know who will help you do this. It could be a male with a lot of feminine energy or a woman with heavy masculine energy. Possibly someone you're romantically interested in or attracted to. Take that as it resonates.

/////////

PILE 4

Seven of Wands

(clarified by: The Hanged Man)

Knight of Wands

(clarified by: Knight of Cups)

The World

(clarified by: Ace of Pentacles)

The Lovers (back of the deck)

Pile 4, your Divine Feminine expression makes people want to cuff you. You have that "wifey" energy, whether you are male or female. You might seem especially supportive or caregiving or nurturing. Suitors could feel like you would make an excellent spouse and parent, that they could build a family with you and have it all with you. But, I also think this marriage-material energy you have is due to you being such a romantic and so full of love. You have a very powerful heart chakra that is very open. Your feminine energy is an expression of unconditional love and it gives you a very magnetic aura.

I'm hearing All Is Full Of Love by Bjork. You are very spiritual and deeply feel the love from Spirit and your Guides. You embody that kind of higher love. Some may see you as some type of earth angel. The energy I am getting here is reminiscent of Aaliyah. You might be a big fan of her and her music. But, she just had such a kind, loving, peaceful aura and everyone who knew her said she was so beautiful and angelic. She was very much a Divine Feminine being and you have that same type of energy. Aaliyah also had a way of really making men fall for her without doing much, which is another kind of feminine magnetism. I can see you having the same effect on your preferred sex. You attract Divine Masculines like honey attracts bees! At any given time, you have multiple options, though you're not the kind to boast about that.

In fact, it's not always fun because you have felt like you have had to kiss a lot of frogs, so to speak. You will eventually learn from this, though, and get to a point where you are much more discerning and selective with who you give that precious romantic energy to. However, this only makes you even more attractive and irresistible to those admirers! Sometimes, you have a bit of a Belle vibe, from Beauty and the Beast, where you have quite a few Gaston's chasing you and you couldn't care less. That Don't Impress Me Much by Shania Twain is coming through. That's your attitude, sometimes.

Also, because you're so spiritual, it's hard for you to meet someone who matches your values and your frequency. The material things some masculines want to provide is secondary to you. You're the type of feminine who cares much more about being appreciated, respected and valued than financially provided for (although that kind of help is nice, too). And it's also hard for you to meet someone who truly sees you. People are often so busy idealizing you as perfect that they don't see all your dimensions. But, the right person, your true counterpart, will.

There are many signs in this pile. There is Leo energy emphasized, as well as the other Fire signs, Aries and Sagittarius. We have Water: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces. We have extra emphasis on Pisces, too. Gemini energy is present, as well. So, you could have any of those placements. You are a VERY multifaceted being. Your Divine Femininity is versatile. You can be many types of feminine energy: a mother, a goddess, a high priestess, a seductress, an innocent. Sometimes, it's downright confusing to others. I feel like you can easily get defensive or frustrated when others have the wrong perception of you and you're being guided to just allow yourself to be misunderstood. Not everyone has to get you.

I also think you're meant to embody the Divine Feminine half of a Divine Union in this life. You definitely either have a twin flame or high-level soulmate who has or will play a huge, transformative role in your life. It also feels like you will have multiple spiritual connections romantically, like a twin flame AND a soulmate or two. You are proof that you don't have to limit yourself to one in this life. You may find yourself in a serious connection with either of them or both of them, at different points. You will probably also be forced to choose between one or the other at some point. That feels like a specific message for some of you.

////////

Thanks for stopping by! You can check out my other readings and posts here:

MASTER LIST

#tarot #tarot reading #channeled message #channeled reading #pick a pile reading #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #divine feminine #divine masculine #divine feminine energy #goddess energy #feminine energy #light feminine #dark feminine

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kolyasupremanxy · 9 months

Note

What do you think would be some non sexual turn ons for Dazai, Fyodor, Chuuya and Nikolai?

—Non-sexual turn ons

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲, 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff ( ? )

𝐀/𝐧: I'm back after 5 months 😭 I'm sorry

— Dazai Osamu

Headcanons: Dazai Osamu's Non-Sexual Turn Ons

• Intelligence

Dazai is attracted to individuals who possess sharp minds and quick wit. He finds intellectual conversations stimulating and enjoys engaging with someone who can match his intelligence. The way you effortlessly navigate complex topics and challenge his ideas with your own well-thought arguments leaves him intrigued and craving more of your stimulating conversations.

• Dark Humor

Dazai has a twisted sense of humor, and he appreciates someone who can understand and appreciate his morbid jokes. A dark and witty sense of humor can easily catch his attention. The way you effortlessly match his dark humor and make him burst into laughter with your clever remarks and twisted jokes is something he finds incredibly alluring.

• Independence

Dazai finds independent individuals incredibly attractive. He admires those who can stand on their own and have a strong sense of self. Someone who doesn't rely on others for validation or support is likely to pique his interest. Your self-assured nature and the way you confidently navigate through life, unafraid to march to the beat of your own drum, is something that captivates him.

• Confidence

Confidence is key when it comes to catching Dazai's attention. He finds it alluring when someone is sure of themselves and isn't afraid to take charge. A person who exudes self-assurance is likely to grab his attention. The way you carry yourself with grace and poise, radiating confidence in every step, is something that leaves Dazai captivated and yearning to unravel more of your intriguing layers.

• Unconventional Thinking

Dazai is drawn to those who think outside the box and challenge societal norms. He finds individuals who have unique perspectives and aren't afraid to question the status quo intriguing and captivating. The way you effortlessly challenge conventional ideas and bring a fresh perspective to every discussion is something that fascinates Dazai, making him want to delve deeper into your mind and unravel the mysteries within.

• Mysterious Persona

Dazai is naturally attracted to people who have an air of mystery surrounding them. He enjoys unraveling their secrets and getting to know them on a deeper level. A person with an enigmatic aura is bound to intrigue him. The way you carry yourself with an air of mystery, leaving him wondering about the depths of your thoughts and experiences, is something that drives Dazai to unravel the layers of your enigmatic persona.

• Compassion

Despite his playful nature, Dazai appreciates individuals who show genuine kindness and compassion towards others. Someone who cares for others and goes out of their way to help those in need is likely to capture his attention. The way you extend compassion to those around you, selflessly lending a helping hand and showing genuine care, is something that melts Dazai's heart and makes him fall even harder for you.

• Adventure and Thrill-Seeking

Dazai enjoys living life on the edge and is attracted to those who share his love for adventure. Whether it's trying out new experiences or seeking adrenaline rushes, someone who can keep up with his adventurous spirit is sure to catch his eye. The way you fearlessly embrace the unknown, always seeking new thrills and adventures, is something that ignites Dazai's own adventurous spirit, making him want to join you on every daring escapade.

• Aesthetic Appreciation

Dazai has an eye for beauty, whether it's in art, nature, or everyday objects. He is drawn to individuals who appreciate and have an eye for aesthetics. Someone who can appreciate the little details and find beauty in the mundane is likely to intrigue him. The way you effortlessly find beauty in the simplest of things, appreciating the aesthetics and the artistry in everything around you, is something that captivates Dazai's artistic soul, making him see the world through a new lens.

• Unpredictability

Dazai is easily bored and craves excitement. He finds individuals who are unpredictable and can keep him on his toes incredibly captivating. Someone who brings an element of surprise and spontaneity to his life is bound to grab his attention. The way you effortlessly keep him guessing, never falling into a predictable pattern and always surprising him with unexpected twists, leaves Dazai craving for more of your exhilarating presence in his life.

—Fyodor Dostoevsky

• Unpredictability

Fyodor is naturally drawn to individuals who possess an element of unpredictability. He finds it exhilarating when you surprises him with their actions or choices, making it difficult for him to anticipate their next move. Your ability to keep Fyodor on his toes adds an exciting edge to their dynamic, keeping him constantly intrigued and captivated.

• Confidence

Fyodor is undeniably attracted to confident individuals. He is particularly drawn to Your self-assurance and assertiveness. Their unwavering belief in themselves and their abilities is a quality that Fyodor greatly admires. Your confidence serves as a powerful magnet, captivating his attention and keeping him intrigued.

• Dark Humor

Fyodor has a twisted and sinister sense of humor, and he finds it incredibly appealing when you shares your affinity for dark humor. Their ability to appreciate and engage in morbid jokes or sarcastic banter creates a unique bond between them. Your compatibility in this aspect allows Fyodor to truly connect with them on a deeper level, making them even more enticing.

• Attention to Detail

Fyodor has an eye for detail, and he finds it incredibly attractive when you shares this trait. Their ability to notice even the smallest nuances in their surroundings or in Fyodor's behavior impresses him. Your keen observation skills and attention to detail make them stand out in his eyes, adding an extra layer of fascination to their relationship.

• Intimacy with Darkness

Fyodor is no stranger to the dark and sinister side of life, and he is drawn to individuals who can embrace and understand that part of him. Your comfort and intimacy with the darker aspects of their own nature intrigue Fyodor immensely. Their ability to navigate the shadows with ease creates a deep connection between them, intensifying the magnetic pull he feels towards them.

• Mysterious Past: Fyodor is naturally curious and attracted to individuals with mysterious pasts. He finds himself irresistibly drawn to Y/n's enigmatic history, wanting to unravel the secrets and untold stories that lie within them. The air of mystery surrounding Y/n only adds to their allure in Fyodor's eyes, making him all the more determined to uncover their hidden depths.

—Nakahara Chuuya

• Intelligence

Chuuya has a soft spot for intelligent individuals. He values intellectual conversations and enjoys the challenge of matching wits with someone who can hold their ground in a battle of wits. He admires those who can outsmart him and isn't afraid to engage in mind games.

• Independence

Chuuya finds independence attractive. He respects individuals who can stand on their own and don't rely on others for validation or support. He appreciates self-sufficiency and values those who can handle themselves in any situation.

• Confidence

Confidence is key when it comes to catching Chuuya 's attention. He is drawn to individuals who exude self-assurance and carry themselves with a certain level of poise. He finds it captivating when someone knows their worth and isn't afraid to show it.

• Determination

Chuuya respects individuals who have a strong sense of determination and drive. He admires those who are willing to fight for what they believe in, even in the face of adversity. Their perseverance and unwavering spirit resonate with him on a deep level.

• Wit and Banter

Chuuya enjoys engaging in witty banter and sarcastic exchanges. He appreciates a sharp sense of humor and enjoys a good verbal spar. If someone can match his quick wit and keep him on his toes with their comebacks, Chuuya finds it both amusing and attractive.

• Loyalty

Despite his trust issues, Chuuya values loyalty above all else. He admires individuals who stay true to their principles and stand by their friends and loved ones. Loyalty earns his respect and makes him more inclined to open up and form a deeper connection.

• Strength

Chuuya is naturally drawn to strength. He appreciates individuals who can hold their own in a fight, but also those who possess inner strength and resilience. Their ability to endure and overcome challenges impresses him.

• Style

Chuuya has an eye for fashion and appreciates individuals who have their own unique sense of style. He finds it attractive when someone takes pride in their appearance and carries themselves with confidence. A well-dressed individual catches his attention and piques his interest.

• Emotional Depth: Despite his own guarded nature, Chuya is intrigued by individuals who exhibit emotional depth. He is drawn to those who are able to express their emotions authentically and are not afraid to show vulnerability. Their ability to connect on a deeper emotional level resonates with him.

—Nikolai Gogol

• Dark Humor

Nikolai has a twisted sense of humor, finding amusement in the darker aspects of life. He is captivated by those who can match his wit and appreciate his morbid jokes, relishing in the shared laughter over macabre topics.

• Intellectual Stimulation

As much as Nikolai enjoys his playful and theatrical personality, he also craves intellectual stimulation. He is attracted to individuals who can engage him in deep and thought-provoking conversations, challenging his mind and expanding his horizons.

• Unpredictability

Nikolai is drawn to individuals who possess an air of unpredictability, those who keep him on his toes and challenge his quick-witted nature. Whether it's through their actions, words, or even their mannerisms, he finds excitement in the element of surprise.

• Confidence:

Nikolai finds confidence to be an irresistible trait. He is attracted to individuals who exude self-assurance, as it showcases independence and a certain level of fearlessness that aligns with his own nature. The boldness and poise of someone who knows their worth is a definite turn-on for him.

• Artistic Expression

Being a lover of all things dramatic and theatrical, Nikolai is drawn to those who possess artistic talents. Whether it's through painting, writing, or any other form of creative expression, he finds beauty in individuals who can channel their emotions and thoughts into their craft.

• Mysterious Aura

Nikolai is naturally curious, and he is intrigued by individuals with a mysterious aura. He is captivated by enigmatic personalities who keep their cards close to their chest, always leaving him guessing and yearning to uncover their hidden depths.

• Unconventional Thinking

Nikolai has a tendency to see the world through a unique lens, and he finds individuals who think outside the box to be incredibly attractive. He is enamored by those who challenge societal norms and embrace unconventional ideas, appreciating their ability to break free from the chains of conformity.

• Playfulness

Despite his sadistic tendencies, Nikolai has a childlike joy within him. He is drawn to individuals who possess a playful nature, those who can engage in lighthearted banter and bring out his mischievous side. Their ability to embrace their inner child and find delight in simple pleasures is something he finds incredibly appealing.

• Passion

Nikolai is captivated by passionate individuals who pour their heart and soul into their pursuits. Whether it's a personal hobby or a grand ambition, he finds the fire within them to be incredibly alluring. Their drive and dedication ignite his own passion and inspire him to reach for greater heights.

• Love for Freedom

As someone who cherishes the freedom he finds in the skies, Nikolai is attracted to individuals who share his love for freedom. Whether it's a thirst for adventure or a desire for independence, he finds solace in those who understand the yearning to break free from the chains of society, just like the birds he adores.

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