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itsphoenix0724 · 3 months

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All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched trees, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target.

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you.

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you.

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away.

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine.

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul.

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him.

But how could you not?

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth.

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf.

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you.

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try.

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight.

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games.

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core.

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords.

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs.

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows.

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours.

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck.

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this.

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body.

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention.

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your vision turns white. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs.

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead.

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look.

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement.

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands.

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #eris vanserra #eris imagine #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra smut

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codealiaswave · 7 days

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Belonging

This was supposed to go up last night, but was temporarily derailed by that awful, nasty little troll living under the bridge. Soothe your battered souls, mes chéries.

youtube

It had been an exhaustive year, long coming. It seemed like Gambit and Rogue had gone straight from honeymoon to undesired separation, skipping the newlywed phase altogether. But now they were finally back home and in each other's arms where they both belonged. After taking a long shower to wash away the last of the sweat, dirt, battle grime, and trauma, Remy had settled into the plush bed that took up most of the master bedroom in their New York penthouse. While the cats came up to "force pet" their welcome home, his attention focused solely on his wife, Anna Marie. He'd enjoyed the simple pleasure of watching her blow dry her long curly locks, moisturize her sumptuous skin, and tend to the broken nails that would later create snags. It was mundane, and it was stupid, but it was all he wanted after the last year of nothing but fighting and witnessing atrocities committed against mutant kind.

When she finally came to bed, she immediately sought the comfort of his embrace. Fingers traced over sinewy strength of muscles most recently used for war not love. Legs entwined enticingly as silk-smooth skin slid over well-groomed masculinity. A gentle, sweet kiss turned into impassioned flames, blazing across their souls in a firestorm that wouldn't be quenched.

Hours later during a temporary satiation, they finally drifted off to desperately needed slumber. In her deep sleep, Rogue stirred against his body. Ever since they'd gone to bed, there hadn't been a single inch of her not touching Gambit's body. So when the slight movement roused him just enough to recognize all was still safe, he turned his head to kiss her hair before snuggling closer under the covers. Except his lips didn't land on silky smooth strands. Instead he got a mouthful of something furry. The fine hair stuck to Gambit's skin as he jerked away from Rogue, desperate to wipe away the uncomfortable sensation. "Huh? Whuh? What's going on?" Rogue dazedly asked, vaguely aware something wasn't right. Instead of answering her, Gambit only swore when he saw what had happened.

"L'enfer, Lucifer!" He shouted, shooing the cat off Rogue's pillow. The fur ball had the nerve to sleep as close to her head as physically possible. The worst part: the orange feline's rear end was facing Gambit. At least Lady Luck was still on is side since he had only kissed the cat's haunches and not some other backside anatomy. Finally conscious enough to realize what had happened, Rogue simply pulled the covers up to her shoulders and laughed as she nested back into the bedding.

"It ain't funny, chére." He countered, still swiping the fine fur away from his face. It was like a cobweb that wouldn't easily be brushed off.

"Is too, Cajun." She giggled dreamily, already slipping back to sleep with a yawn. "'Sides, serves ya right fer all the times ya laughed at me when Ah stepped in Figaro's yack."

Finally free of the cloying sensation, Gambit relaxed beside her. Pulling her close, he mumbled, "Guess there's only one good minou 'tite 'round here."

Rogue's eyes popped open with the reference to their third and least angelic cat. "Who, Oliver? That spoiled rotten little devil takes after another silver-tongued demon-eyed creature who lives here."

She gave Gambit a playful elbow to his side, but otherwise remained in his embrace.

"Exactly. And y' love us both fo' it." It was his turn to yawn as he tucked Rogue under one arm and rested his head on top of the other. "Whatever." She rolled her eyes. Despite the playful banter, the last year had worn terribly on her. Rogue was grateful to be home again. After pausing only a beat, she decided she needed to remind him, "Ah love ya, Remy." He was quiet for a moment. Contemplative. Their lives had brought them to a completely different place than when they had first met. The man he was then, well that homme never would have thought he'd have the life he had now. That he even deserved it. So the man he was today understood the exact desperate need driving his wife's sentimental words.

"Sans toi, je ne suis rien." While there was truth in his words, he wasn't using the phrase for literal meaning. Nor did he mean he couldn't go on without her. There would always be other friends and family for him, but no one like her.

It was a confession more than I love you. It was a well deeper than all his soul. It was their messed up kind of perfect.

What mattered more: Rogue intimately understood the piercing precision behind it. And in return, she surrendered the same fervor devotion to Gambit.

Through all their trials and tribulations, obstacles and challenges to their relationship, they had overcome the odds. And they were exactly where they were meant to be.

"Mrrrrrrrow!" came a cry from downstairs, proceeded by the sound of shattering glass.

"Ah swear, Remy. If that darn cat knocked over the good dinnerware again, Ah'm gonna have me fur cuffed gloves this winter." They both knew her threat was empty, but her irritation wasn't. "Oliver the angel my hind end!"

"Shhh." Gambit teased. "Fais do do, ma chérie."

"Don'chu fais do do me, swamp rat!" It was an old argument from long ago. Now it was more an endearing inside joke - something special just to them. Rogue could practically feel his smirk as she grinned in return.

"Night, Remy." She kissed his chest before cuddling closer.

"Bonsoir, colombe," Gambit returned, grateful to be exactly where he belonged.

#fanfiction #codealiaswave ficlet #gambit #rogue #otp: home and harbor #remy lebeau #Anna Marie lebeau #otp: mon coeur #romy #rogue x gambit #gambit x rogue #rogue & gambit #gambit & rogue #This is why we write fanfiction #Screw X-Men 97 #Screw Beau DeMayo #Preferably with Vlad the Impaler's infamous greaseless pike #Youtube

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runa-falls · 11 months

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cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!”

You don’t.

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes.

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man.

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic.

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.”

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it.

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you.

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain.

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him.

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way).

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met.

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly.

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave.

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour.

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?”

Even her voice is elegant.

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door.

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public.

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain.

Or at least a super-something.

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.”

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits.

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her.

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.”

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct.

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!”

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool.

And then it’s just you.

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here.

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right?

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit.

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him.

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?”

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full.

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it.

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go.

And now he’s leaving you.

So you take your chance.

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying.

Then silence.

How awkward.

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low.

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in.

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space.

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool.

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps.

Little Red?

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

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cookieshapedrat · 29 days

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What if figurines and plushes sitting on my mini table could befriend each other within their worlds? What if their worlds collided and they all became friends?

These were the questions I asked myself today while doodling in my sketchbook. A whole world created just for fun. A Smash Bros kind of world except without the fighting, just vibing. Well… For the most part anyways. Characters coming together that you would never expect. I mean, Luffy befriending a friendly little puppet Wally Darling and offering him his hat? Blaze the Cat becoming mesmerized by the whimsical power of the Prince of all Saiyans Vegeta? Yoshi giving a Toad a piggyback ride (although that was always a thing within their world, but still fun to experience for anyone friends with a Yoshi.)?

And with this small exploration of this imagination, there’s much more to be seen. More outlandish yet intriguing interactions to capture. For now I leave these here as a simple display of my many thoughts of these characters.

Wally has befriended most of the personalities found around the bedroom, Luffy likewise, and the Yoshi and Toad tend to keep to who they’re most comfortable with. Vegeta still struggles to make friends, but Wally seems to be rather warm towards him. For what reason, it’s uncertain. Potentially the puppet is simply made to be that way. Filled with too much love to keep to himself. Luffy finds himself feeling like he’s right at home with Vegeta by his side. He actually reminds him a lot of a swordsman he knows back in his world. Spending time around him is like he never left the seas. Yoshi and Toad are simply too intimidated by the prince’s presence to get too close, however. They never seem to grow out of this, but they’ve grown to become at least trusting after some time. Blaze, on the other hand, likes that there’s another royal she can relate with. Although Vegeta is distant, she doesn’t mind it too much. He answers just about enough questions to keep her curiosities tamed, and he’s reserved just enough to be of a relaxing presence to be around. Intimidating yet calming, in a strange sense. She only wishes that Silver was here to meet everyone too… Sonic was supposed to be here but… Wait a second. Where is Sonic? Oh, never mind that. He’s most likely fine. Out doing his usual thing, she assumes.

#crossover fanart #welcome home #one piece #dragon ball #sonic the hedgehog #super mario #wally darling #straw hat luffy #prince vegeta #blaze the cat #yoshi #mario toad #art #traditional art #my art #sketchbook #sketches #fanart

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queen--of--shadows · 2 years

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Healing Shadows: Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: mentions of surgical wounds and scars

Word Count: 1,896

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Part 4: Truth

Nuala and Cerridwen cleaned up, removing any trace of the traumatic morning, while you and Rhys set up a cozy array of soft quilts, plush blankets, and thick pillows in Feyre’s old room so she could nest with baby Nyx. “Feyre, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my--” You stammered as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Rhys questioned, raising a brow.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I was about to say my room, I didn’t mean to assume I could just take over the guest room. I…Is there somewhere else I should bring my bag?” You only had your supplies with you, not foreseeing that you would end up moving in so soon.

Rhys and Feyre shared a sympathetic look. “Y/N, please, consider the House like your own home. Take whichever room you prefer. If you want to stay in the guest room, by all means, do,” Rhys continued, “We have no problem using another room for guests.” He gave you a warm smile, and you knew he meant it.

Your chest swelled with joy and gratitude at their generosity. Turning to Feyre, you said “I’ll be in my room. Shout if you need me.”

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

It was late and although you were physically and emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, sleep escaped you. Soaking in a long steaming bath usually helped, but maybe it was the nerves of being in a new home. And not just any home, but the High Lord’s. You still were having a hard time believing the trajectory of your life changed so drastically in just a few days.

You paced in your room, read a few chapters of the book Nesta had lent you, trying to tire yourself out, but after a half hour gave up. Maybe I just need some tea, you thought, grabbing a robe from the dresser and making your way downstairs.

The House was dark and dim, save for the faelight torches along the length of the stairs. You were already familiar with its layout, or as much of it that you’d seen so far. Nesta had mentioned she would give you a tour of the Library tomorrow, and Cassian offered to show you around the rest of the House and the training ground on the roof.

With one hand against the wall, you made your way into the opulent kitchen. Beautiful white marble glistened underneath the iridescent faelight. You grabbed one of the torches to guide your path to the end of the room, pulling back the thick curtains draped around giant floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing the famed starry Velaris night sky and a full moon. Even though you had spent most of your life here, the sight still took your breath away.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Azriel whispered.

You jolted back and turned to face him, not realizing he was in the kitchen before you had come down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled, bringing his hands up in innocence. His deep, breathy laugh caressed your soul. Azriel was donning a simple black ensemble, the V-line cut of his sweater showcasing dark sweeping tendrils of his tattoos across a broad, muscular chest. Your heart began to pace and you were sure he could hear its pounding. Moonlight shining bright on him from the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at his perfect features. The sharp angle of his jaw, his soft, full lips, and gorgeous, blazing hazel eyes. His shadows slithered around his arms and shoulders, and you looked down to see one of them wrapping up your leg, like a cat brushing and winding against you. A cheeky smile spread across your face as the shadow slid up and around one leg, then the other.

Meeting his eyes again, you realized you hadn’t said a single word.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” you breathed. Turning back around, you continued, “I’ve loved the night sky since I was young.” Azriel hummed in agreement, taking a seat at the oak table in the center of the kitchen. You just noticed the odd-shaped chairs, and as he sat down, it made sense that they were fashioned to accommodate their massive wings.

“I was going to make myself tea, would you like some?” You looked to Azriel for his response, but he just stared at you, as if searching for an answer from you in turn. His cold, beautiful face yielded no emotion.

“Sure, thank you.”

You worked in comfortable silence, steeping the tea, unsure what to say or how to make conversation. He was the notorious Shadowsinger, and although that alone didn’t scare you, you had just been invited to move in and were still getting to know everyone.

Straining out the rich chamomile drink into two mugs, you handed him one before deciding to head back upstairs. You wanted to stay, some feeling in your gut telling you to take a seat, but figured it would be better to avoid any situation that would cause you to gain feelings for someone in the Inner Circle. The few moments you’ve had with Azriel thus far already had you in bed at night, imaging his tall lithe body, pushed up against yours.

Azriel wrapped his hand around the mug and your fingers, warm and strong. He looked up at you as if expecting more, but you instead pulled back with a soft smile and mumbled goodnight.

You didn’t notice the shadows that followed you back to your room, slithering along the cold stone floors in the darkness.

You were kicking yourself as soon as you shut your door.

How will I ever fit in around here?

The tea worked its magic to clear your mind, and with heavy lids, you drifted away into a deep sleep.

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

The following day, you were awoken by a loud knock at your door. “Come in,” you grumbled, eyes still half-closed.

“Morning, Y/N!” Mor squealed as she let herself in, her citrusy cinnamon scent filling your room. Jumping onto your bed and propping her head on one elbow, she asked “How did you sleep?”

Her eyes sparkled as she awaited your answer. “Fine,” was all you could manage. How did she look so good this early?

“Madja is here. She said she wanted to come check on Feyre and Nyx.”

Rubbing your eyes and pulling on your robe and slippers, you followed the tall blonde downstairs.

You entered Feyre’s room to find Cassian holding Nyx with Azriel seated next to him, both cooing over the baby. He was looking healthier and stronger by the day. Rhys was helping Feyre out of bed and onto the couch so you and Madja could look at her wounds. Madja slowly peeled back the bandages and gauze from yesterday morning. She whipped around, meeting your eyes with a menacing gaze that made you want to shrink.

“Why do her cuts still look so fresh?” Madja’s words shook you out of your sleepy stupor, and an icy fear mixed with rage washed over you.

No…please, please don’t say anything.

You didn’t respond.

“What does that mean? Are they not supposed to look like this?” Rhys asked, his night-kissed power slowly thrumming throughout the room. All eyes were on you, again.

“Madja? What are you talking about?” Feyre protested.

She didn’t shift her gaze away from you.

“I thought you were going to tell them. When I asked for your help, I meant all of it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madja,” you replied coolly. “I performed the surgery, Nyx is healthy and Feyre is healing appropriately. Her wound is already closing.”

You prayed that everyone would believe you, despite Madja’s death stare.

“Y/N, what are you hiding from us?” Rhys knew how to sound like the High Lord when he needed to. Guilt and shame-- you suddenly felt horrible for not telling them the whole truth. Fine, they offered you their home and trust, the least you could do was give them this.

“Rhys, Feyre, I’m sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I…” You were having a hard time putting your thoughts into words. “I have healing…powers? Magic? Something beyond just my surgical skills. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. I learned a lot from studying medical texts, but my healing power is similar to...”

They all stared at you, awaiting your explanation.

“It’s hard to describe, and I haven’t fully mastered it yet. I need to practice more, but essentially I can heal using water.”

The blank stares you received in return had you stumbling over your words as you continued, “I think it would be better if I just showed you.”

Focusing on the glass of water next to Feyre’s bed, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes to center yourself. You searched deep down in your core for that power, that magic that hummed along your veins, allowing you to bend water to your will. Opening your eyes, you lifted one hand with a flicking motion of your wrist, the water following, easing out of the glass and into the air like a fluid rope. You turned your palm towards the water to stop it, and then continued to bend and twist your wrist and fingers, weaving and dancing the water through the air, not unlike Azriel’s shadows when they wreath around his neck and limbs. You were so focused, you didn’t notice the multiple sets of eyes darting back and forth between the water and you.

“Incredible…” Azriel all but whispered to himself.

Halting the water above Feyre, you motioned for her to lay down on the couch. The room was silent as if everyone was holding their breath, watching you command the element to your will.

With one hand holding the water still above her, you used your other to lift Feyre’s tunic above her abdomen to reveal the site you had cut into just a day ago. Using both hands, you twisted the water into a circle and brought it down above her wound. “This may tickle,” you warned. Feyre nodded, and you were grateful for the trust shining bright in her eyes.

You slid the water across her abdomen, willing the magic from deep inside you into the liquid. The water began to glow a soft blue, illuminating Feyre’s belly, and you moved it in long strokes across her wounds as if you were washing and wiping with a towel. You continued for a few seconds, the redness from the stitches slowly subsiding, and the wound fully closed. You were done with a few more strokes, then eased the liquid back into the glass on the nightstand and reeled your power back in. The water stopped glowing.

“That was…unbelievable,” Rhys muttered. “Y/N, it seems you have a sort of elemental magic. Have you tried using your power with other materials?”

Already following his pattern of logic, you responded with a sigh and shook your head in disappointment, “I have, but for some reason, I’m not able to connect with the other elements. I don’t know why, but it seems I’m only able to do this with water or other fluids that contain water, like--”

“Like blood,” Azriel finished for you, wearing the cold mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Yes, like blood.”

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zombiekaiju · 4 months

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despite having one of the toughest years, and being sick for like half of it, I got a lot of cool stuff done in 2023 😎

#handmade plush #pokemon #splatoon #the legend of zelda #paper mario the thousand year door #skeletor #shin megami tensai persona #pizza tower #mega man #pikmin #blaze the cat

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blazeshowdown · 1 year

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Round 2

Prototype Blaze artwork

#blaze showdown #round 2 #prototype blaze #blaze plush #sonic poll #blaze the cat

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bisexualiteaa · 4 months

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A Dance with the Devil

Pt 3.

CW: SMUT 18+ content ahead, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

You could see the raging storm of different emotions behind those blazing orange eyes. So many things to say, yet it was as if the words hadn’t existed for him to say. “In truth, it is you, the dark goddess I stand before” he said, urging you to stand once more before leaning over top of you as you sat on the bed. “Heart so welcoming, body so tempting” he added, his hand gently grazing your waist. “The girl signed the waiver, a contract, abiding the devil’s favor. One day a sensation arise, putting numbness to its demise, and soon the cat had found its weakness” he said, dictating his poetry with reciprocated kisses down your body. “Allow me if you will, to pledge *my* fealty” he said, resting between your spread legs as his lips tread just below your naval.

You bit your lip, nodding your head in agreement and want as his kisses littered your inner thighs. You sighed as he grew closer, plush lips climbing the expanse of your thigh before ghosting his breath over your needy cunt, moving to provide the same treatment to your other thigh. You whimpered as he drew closer, earning a chuckle at the way your hands clutched the sheets and the way your hips twitched with need as he would hover over your slick pussy. “Perhaps patience is another lesson I need to teach you” he said, biting the inside of your thigh, earning a moan as you put your head back against the mattress. “But you’ve been so very good to me, I suppose you’ve earned your reward” he said, making you bite your lip with anticipation, your heart racing as lust, longing and carnal desire coursed through your every vein. “Do keep that look, I take much enjoyment in seeing you so desperate for me. But don’t you dare hold your voice back” he said as he finally pressed his lips to your needy cunt, his hands gripping your waist as your legs were thrown over his shoulders. You moaned sweetly, your hands grasping at the sheets as his tongue paid very close attention to your aching clit. First, beginning to draw out letters, spelling words in what felt to be just about every tongue known to all kind, then evolved into tight circles, occasionally sucking the sensitive bud, making your eyes roll back as your back arched from the bed. Your mind was left reeling, foggy and filled only with the pleas of your husband’s name and begging him to never stop. So sweet, so amusing he thought, how sensitive and receptive you were to his touch. Your hips moved against his tongue, using his mouth to get you off and it made him growl in need. The sound didn’t pass you, its low, absolutely *feral* timber sending pleasant tingles through your whole body as he worked you with his talented tongue. “Fuck…Raphael” you moaned, making him chuckle as his circling turned to flutters, flicking constant light but pleasing motions to your pulsating clit. “Don’t stop…please” you whimpered as two fingers entered you, stretching you blissfully and helping to prepare you for what was to come. You rolled your hips against his fingers, fucking yourself on his tongue as his fingers rubbed against your walls. Once again, he found himself drawing letters in infernal upon your pulsating bud as your voice began to reach a higher pitch. He smirked to himself, a devilish idea no less passing his mind, and you held no doubt that he was likely writing a contract of ownership upon your sweet cunt with how focused his movements were and how long he spent abusing your clit with his delectable tongue. Sealing his contract with a light kiss upon your nether lips, he looked up to you to watch in delight as your body would writhe, arch and squirm beneath his hold and from his touch.

You came *hard* with a loud cry to match the heavenly feeling of such a powerful orgasm washing over you and by the nines, he swore he could have made a mess of himself at the sight of you before him like this. He gave a chuckle as he gave you a few last teasing licks, helping you down from your high and watching you twitch with overstimulation and whine at the feeling. “Mmm…fuck, your fealty has most definitely been accepted” you said, drunk off of your high as you slowly started to descend back to reality, making him laugh once more as he joined you back on the bed. You pulled him into another sweet kiss as you straddled his lap, situating yourself on top of him and caring not that your taste rested heavy on his tongue. “You seem tense darling, let me relieve that stress for you, hmm?” You asked sweetly, moving his hands to smooth down the curves of your body to your ass that you knew he loved to squeeze. You giggled as he did, his claws digging into your skin and making small droplets of blood rise to the surface of your skin. You moaned at the pleasurable pain, lining him up to your soaking cunt as you both kissed.

#bg3 smut #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael smut #raphael x reader #raphael

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