#her darling scorned

[glacierclear]

designed a whole pirate gang for meri!!! the crew of my darling scorned.

#my art #baldurs gate 3 #oc #her darling scorned #cw; sharks

[evielmostdefinitely]

scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)

contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.

“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees. 

“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?” 

You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-” 

“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.” 

You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here. 

“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it. 

“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol. 

“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?” 

Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed. 

“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too. 

You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun. 

“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently. 

“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.” 

“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.” 

“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it. 

“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought. 

Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock. 

Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body. 

“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal. 

“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-” 

Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct. 

“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water. 

Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you. 

He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust. 

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.” 

“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly. 

He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled. 

“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. ���You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently. 

It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know. 

You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around. 

Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally. 

You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.” 

You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?” 

Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation. 

“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.” 

“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors. 

The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin. 

His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over. 

“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you. 

“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so. 

Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back. 

“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly. 

Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry. 

“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises. 

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?” 

You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?” 

“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him. 

“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks. 

“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity. 

“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm. 

Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you. 

“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’ 

The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.” 

“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed. 

“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.” 

Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you. 

The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound. 

Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for. 

As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you. 

You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you. 

Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you. 

Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold. 

And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her. 

Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve. 

Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x capitol!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow x you smut #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosbas fic #ficrec #dom!coriolanus snow x sub!reader #dom!coriolanus #coriolanus x you #young!coriolanus snow #president snow #tbosbas x reader #tbosas x reader #peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x reader #peacekeeper!coriolanus snow #tbosbas fanfiction #tbosbas #the hunger games #thg

[sytoran]

𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

the aftermath of your mindblowingly hot sex with the goddess of lust, natasha romanoff. as it turns out, no one escapes the consequences of their actions.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: once again, howdy, folks! this is the even longer-awaited part 2 to the goddess!nat fic! i am terribly sorry for the wait, hopefully this long chapter will satisfy your needs :)

word count: 3.0k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously...

You, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. The Goddess of Lust, Natasha, granted you one wish as a repayment. You could've had just about anything, but turns out all you need is right in front of you.

Spoiler: It ends up in mindblowingly hot sex with a certain Goddess.

Now, two months later...

"Baby…" Nataha sighs, her eyelids fluttering close as you move under her sheets. 

Or, more specifically, as your tongue moves in her cunt.

There's just something about giving the Goddess of Lust the best head of a lifetime that does it for you. Maybe it's her stupidly sexy moans, or the way she twisted her delicate hands into your hair, or maybe just how sweet she tasted.

Or, maybe, it's the knowledge that you're the only one who can ever make her feel like this.

"Please, oh, fuck," Natasha whines, as you move your tongue in tight little circles against her sweet spot. Not quick enough to make her cum, slow enough to make her feel.

"Oh," she whimpers, hearing the lewd sounds of you eating out her soaked pussy on a Saturday morning. You shift under the blankets, breathing hard as it gets warm.

Worshiping the Goddess as you rightfully should was perhaps your favourite pastime, driving her wild with your fingers and your tongue and your cock.

Which is exactly what you felt throbbing in your pants when a hushed whimper of 'Daddy' falls from Natasha's sweet mouth. Your head spins at the title, just like the first time she had ever called you that.

It was half by accident, really.

On a private rented beach in Malibu, with miles and miles of space and no one else, there you laid under the shade of a palm tree, thrusting into the Goddess with a youthful vigor.

"Oh, you feel so good," Natasha cries, scratching her long nails down your bare back. She shakes with each of your thrusts, melting into your touch like your forgotten ice cream in the Malibu sun.

"Do I?" You tease dangerously, both of your orgasms dangling close to occurrence. "Mhm- Oh, yeah," Natasha responds with a lewd moan, moving her hand down to play with her clit.

That's all the extra simulation the Goddess needs before she's tumbling over the edge, clutching onto you as pound into her cunt.

"Oh, I- Oh, please, daddy!" Natasha shrieks when you harshly pinch her nipple with your free hand. It does wonders for her pleasure.

But as soon as those words fall from the Goddess' lips, she retracts like she's been scorned. You halt your movements.

"Did you just call me daddy?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, as Natasha looks away flusteredly.

"...No."

"Darling."

"No! I mean, well yes, but I didn't mean to!" She tries to move under your grasp, her cheeks turning an incarnadine pink.

You take her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, and use the other to still her moving hips. The Goddess pouts at you, but you know better than to give in.

"Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone 'daddy'?" You ask seriously, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame.

"It's complicated." Natasha states, squirmimg under your inspective look. She trails her hands down to your cock again, but you deny her of that pleasure. "We're not done here, sweetheart."

"Fine," Natasha grumbles. "That's the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

"Oh," you say softly, tracing her rib with a ginger finger. "I think I quite like it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, daddy."

"Shut up, sweetheart."

"Make me."

What pulls you out of that blissful reverie is Natasha's whine. You're not in Malibu anymore, you're under Natasha's sheets. 

Even then, you've never felt more fulfilled with this glorious woman by your side.

"Why'd you stop?" Natasha asks, pulling the blanket away so she can see you.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss onto her inner thigh. "Thinking."

"About?"

"You."

"Oh," the Goddess replies, evidently flustered. 

"What were you thinking of?" she then says, flirtatiously. She adds on the charm of batted eyelashes, prepared for whatever you might do to her body.

What Natasha wasn't prepared for, however, was the tenderness in which you regarded her with, a serene smile and a warm glow on your face.

"What is it?" Natasha says, laughing awkwardly as you litter kisses all over her stomach. You're glowing, sickly-sweet and dumbstruck.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you, Natasha Romanoff. I love you not because you are the Goddess of Lust but because you have the most brilliant heart I've ever had the chance to feel. I love you for everything that you are, everything that you're not. I love you for your bed hair, and your goofy jokes, and your brilliant green eyes I could melt into a thousand times. I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us. And you don't have to say it back, but just know-"

You take in a deep breath, not realizing that you've spoken so much with quavering breaths like you'd die if you didn't profess your love. Like you'd die if you didn't bare your heart to Natasha. You gulp for air, stroke her face. "Just know I love you. So much. So, so, so much."

Oh.

There's silence, afterwards, like the world has stumbled on its axis and the stars have collided. 

Natasha looks at you with an indescribable feeling, like her heart wants to burst out of their seams. It's only when you gently stroke her face that Natasha realizes there are tears on her face. 

Why's she crying? Why do you cradle her in your arms with such a ginger tenderness? What did she ever do to deserve this kind of love?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed it," you mumble, almost ashamed. You press another kiss on her bare stomach as an apology. "I'm-"

"No, I- Fuck, I love you too." The Goddess voices hoarsely, her shaky tone a far cry from what should be expected of a regal Goddess. "I love you too," she says again, with more confidence, almost as if it would make the words even truer.

That stupid smile is back on your face again, even wider than before. Your cheeks hurt and Natasha's heart melts. 

"You love me?" you ask earnestly, and there's such an innocence and genuineness to your question that Natasha almost cries again.

The impact of 'I love you' sinks in. Natasha feels.

She's never felt like this before. She's never loved like this before.

Finally, in the sacred silence, Natasha whispers. Scared to ruin the moment. Scared to tarnish what could be.

"To every universe and back," the Goddess answers, and your world starts orbiting again.

—

Ever since that fateful day of your love confession, the two of you were inseparable. You would look at Natasha with such wonder in your eyes, wonder what you ever did to deserve this, but the Goddess would look at you the same way, and you knew everything would be fine.

She would take you to any universe you liked, across any dimension. From earth-bound lands to intergalactic islands to space. It was as vast as her love for you.

But, you were riding that high with no heed for the consequences of your actions. 

You were foolish enough to stay with Natasha, dumb enough to drown out the warning signs, blindsided by the prospect of loving a Goddess.

You should've known, from the start, that you and Natasha were a race against time.

You should've known that it would end up in flames for you.

You should've known better.

—

Since the very day she was born the Goddess of Lust, Natasha had her life laid in front of her.

To exploit that thrall she was given, to seduce men and the occasional woman, to live above and beyond because she was a Goddess.

That had been her life for over decades, sitting comfortably at the top of the chain on a gold throne; Toying with hearts like it was a daytime hobby, then shattering them like glass. 

She slept around for the hell of it, just because she could. Just because she was the Goddess of Lust.

Then came along a stupidly charming attorney with a coffee stain on her suit and the most unusual request.

Just like that, her world stopped revolving around what she was supposed to do, and it started orbiting around you.

And, you, were definitely not what Natasha was supposed to do.

Despite how incredible you were in bed. Despite the plethora of orgasms you had brought her to. Despite how she felt her walls to her heart tumbling down around you.

When the two of you shared that passionate confession of love in bed on that fateful Saturday morning, the Goddess knew she was done for.

Which is exactly why she's currently under the scrutiny of Supreme Headquarters: Intervention of Extraterrestrial Liabilities Directorate, aka SHIELD, aka she's completely and utterly fucked.

SHIELD was essentially the Gods and Goddeses' version of a monarchy, that was infamous for its cruel ruling and cutthroat decisions.

"You're a smart girl, Natasha, and never would I have expected something so childishly foolish to fall from your lips."

The Goddess stood in defiance. Despite all her power and her status, she seemed so small in the wide hall, paling in comparison to the mighty Gods that surrounded her.

That previous statement had been made by none other than Wanda, the Goddess of Magic. The woman was a stature of power and composure in her throne, hand poised under her chin like it was a medieval painting.

"I'm not a girl," Natasha snapped at the Goddess, fire behind her eyes. "And I'm very capable of making my own decisions, despite how foolish they may seem in your condescending point of view."

The Goddess of Magic was irritatingly unfazed by Natasha's outburst, flicking that poised hand and in a dismissive wave. God, Natasha wanted to crush that stupid hand.

"Steve, talk some sense into her. I can't bear to hear any more of her senseless arguments." Wanda said offhandedly, looking over to the God of Justice for support.

Natasha wants to retort that she isn't just spewing senseless arguments, but a warning look from the God of Justice shut her up. Of everyone in SHIELD, he was the most likely to give her a fair hearing. Hence his name.

"Natasha, we're not saying that you're incapable of making your own decisions." The blonde man reassures, pressing his hands together in contemplation. Natasha breathes harder than she should be doing.

"We're saying that what you're doing isn't the best," Steve continues, and Natasha is grateful that the eyes are not on her anymore. The God of Justice had a presence that simply demanded respect, an impeccable aura that no one would dare deflect.

"Sleeping with someone not godly is one thing, but entering a romantic relationship with a mortal, a human being, is simply…"

"Unacceptable."

Natasha intakes a short gush of air harshly at the interruption. It's Thor, God of Thunder. For a God who had lived centuries, he was painfully traditional. Narrow-minded, even.

Thor's loud, booming voice carried throughout the hall, from his electric-blue throne at the far corner. Mjolnir, his trusty hammer, was held in his big hands with a firm grasp. Natasha forced herself not to feel threatened.

Thor continued, firm and hard and oh so unforgiving. "Do you want to end up like my brother, Goddess Natasha?" 

At that, the entire hall was silenced. The only thing Natasha could hear was her own sporadic breathing.

Everyone, undoubtedly, knew the story of Thor's brother.

Loki, the God of Mischief. The fallen angel, some said. The devil's incarnate, others whispered.

He had used his power for wrong, abused his status to commit the darkest things imaginable. It wasn't before he was banished from the land of Gods, never to be seen again.

Some say he's still clawing his way out of hell. Some say he's destined for a lifetime of hurt.

"Don't you fucking dare compare me to him, Thor," Natasha growls, and the larger blonde man even seems taken aback by the ferocity behind Natasha's words.

"I- I think what Thor is trying to say," Bruce frantically cuts in, in an attempt to mediate the situation. 

The God of Science was a bespectacled man with quirky mannerisms, ever the peacemaker. Logic, to him, was most important of all.

"Is that you, Nat, are a Goddess," Bruce continues. "An all-powerful being that transcends the laws of space and time. You have been blessed with such power, such strength, unfathomable to lesser beings. And Y/N L/N, this earth-bound creature who lives and breathes on the very ground we carved, couldn't possibly be who you want to run off with. I mean, we- you, you're so much more than that."

"You're going to love her, Nat? Give her your heart? You, an immortal being? She's going to die some day, inevitably, and then what will be left of you? A broken, desolate mess, grieving for the rest of eternity?"

Natasha swallows harshly. She wanted to despise Bruce, hate his reasonings and refute his logic – but she couldn't, could she? He was right. Bruce was right.

But there was a part in her heart that screamed, yelled, kicked - she couldn't give you up, now. Not when she'd finally found what she's been searching for. Not when she can feel again.

Not when she's found the love of her goddamned life.

"I'm on Nat's side," Tony says, mouth full of a pink-frosted donut, slicing through the tensed silence. He spews crumbs as he talks, but Natasha doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for the man. 

Tony was the God of Heroes. Brilliant but brash, proud yet arrogant, charismatic and eccentric. He was a God no one could explain in few words, and for that Natasha was immensely grateful he understood.

"True love cannot be broken," Tony says, folding his arms. "It transcends all else, goes beyond our social status and our physical capabilities and who we are as individuals. If Nat has truly found it, then who are we to judge? It shouldn't be criticized, it should be celebrated!"

Natasha locks eyes with Tony, in silent thanks. The two of them may butt heads at times due to their self-righteous natures, but in the end they were always there for each other.

However, the rest of the Gods didn't seem to quite agree. There was quiet murmuring amongst themselves until Steve began speaking again.

"Let's settle this with a vote. If majority wins, Natasha will be able to continue her pursuit of a romantic relationship with the human and mortal Y/N L/N. If not, Natasha will be forced to cut off all ties with said mortal and they are to never see each other again."

The Goddess of Lust felt her heart clench. Of course Steve would choose the fairest way to determine Natasha’s fate. Of course this would result in a losing battle for her, based on the prior reactions. 

“All those in favour of the disallowance of Natasha Romanoff’s and Y/N L/N’s romantic, physical or any other relations, please raise your hand.” 

Thoughts of you swam in Natasha’s mind, of you smiling while kissing her hand, stroking her hair while she fell asleep, trailing kisses up her spine on sinful nights.

Thor’s hand went up first. 

“I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us.” That was what you had said that Saturday morning, with a serene smile, so gentle it caressed Natasha’s heart. She remembers the warm glow of the sun, the temptations of paradise, the falsehood of the promised land.

Wanda follows suit.

How could Natasha have let it all succumb to this? Why had she let herself grow so soft and malleable around you? The walls around her heart she had spent so long constructing was so easily taken down by you. You, who wormed your way in and made a nest in the center of her universe.

The next hand that goes up is Bruce’s, albeit with an uneasy look from the man, like he didn’t want to be there anymore.

Maybe she shouldn’t have dived headfirst into love with you, professing her feelings so vulnerably. She was the Goddess of Lust, not Romance or any of that bullshit. A long-lasting relationship had been a childish fantasy, much less for someone who was meant to constantly seduce.

Like a final seal of her demise, Steve’s hand goes up, and only then does Natasha realize the tears that have fallen from the corners of her eyes.

There is a deafening silence that follows the grounding decision, and even Tony doesn’t look so aloof anymore. He’s the only one at the table who didn’t raise his hand. 

Natasha swallows harshly, in an attempt to calm the building pressure within her.

She swallows again, willing the tears in her eyes to go away - no way in hell would she openly cry in front of the Gods who put her in this situation.

This time, she wishes the ground would swallow her up instead, to whisk her away from this nightmare of a reality and wake up beside you once more.

“You have until sunset to settle things,” Steve says, a painful lack of emotion in his eyes. “If you don’t coincide by the rules, you know what consequences you will have to face.”

For the first time in an eternity, ever since unknown creatures roamed the multiverse and there was no difference between dark and light, the Goddess felt helpless. 

Even then, there was only one thing on her mind.

How the fuck was she going to tell you that ‘To every universe and back’ had been a bloody lie?

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv

ok i’m literally so tired while posting this ‘cos i just got out of a seven-hour flight like yesterday, but i reallyyy wanted to post this because i haven’t posted anything in so long. anyways I HOPE YOU LIKE THE LORE and just a recap for everyone before part 3: 

anyways it’s all set up for more angst and hardcore smut (yes i promise that is in part 3)

natasha - goddess of lust

carol - goddess of galaxies

wanda - goddess of magic

steve - god of justice

thor - god of thunder

bruce - god of science

tony - god of heroes

y/n - basic bitch

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #goddess natasha

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

#yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yanderecore #yandere concept #yandere content #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling #dilf x reader #Quio the dilf #yandere dad

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I never asked you to, you bumbling oaf.❞

[ Between advices and jealous-fraught fights, nestles your heart in red satin and ivory touch. Or, your marriage so far with the firstborn son of the King. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,901 ] | Aegon Targaryen II x Wife!Reader

contains— fluff & smutty - nsfw: oral (f receiving), p & v sex, creampie, breeding kink(?), - soft shit if aegon got to at least have a bit more agency lmao - jealousy - sorta angsty in the beginning but eh - your house is unnamed but you're a bad bitch - no use of y/n - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— it wasn't going to be a full smut, but aegon happened so here we are. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa!

Fraught might be a marriage arranged— cost and effect, weighed by titles and expectations of such matches made, emotion of either future spouse the least they weigh when they make their decisions — but you had grown to adore your husband.

You had been warned, of course. Gossip and small-minded chatter followed the firstborn son of the King. That despite the regality of Targaryen roots and colouring, he was a whoremonger, an addled-drunk, a monstrous caveat shrouded in dark green silk and iron.

You were called a victim, a damsel in distress meant to be saved before you had even met him. And yet not a single one of them batted an eye, much less offered a hand to rescue you from such turmoil. More than prepared to send you off. Others, of course, wishing for a prince to be married to their house, spit their scorn and irony.

The day you met him was a hot day. The sun basked the Crownlands with an almost venomous hatred, and it did not help your anticipation. Nor the long and arduous travel that turned the carriage into a hotbox meant to cook.

Your rear had ached in pain, almost as painful as your pinched cheeks that your grandmother had twisted unto your skin before you got out to meet the Queen, the Hand, and your betrothed, reminding you that a Princess Consort must always look her best, must appeal to her husband at all times "but must not be whorish! And sit straight, by the Seven, girl! Remember to exit gracefully! Like a swan, not a duck! Yes, there is a difference! Scamper your sarcasm!"— your gown was heavy, cinched tight and thick in beautiful fabric and small pearls and sapphires.

You had smiled prettily, bowed perfectly, and when you finally faced your betrothed, he was barely able to stand, pale as a sheet, and suffering from his cups the night before, sweat weeping on his brow.

It had sent a strike down your spine, irritation and anger spinning beneath pearly teeth. You bite down any word before they escape, forcing you to a perfect posture and a sharpened edge to your smile.

Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name, had taken a step back, almost subconsciously, as fear flashed in his darling blue eyes.

Your good brother, having found out of this first interaction, had not stopped teasing your husband for the next few moons. Your good sister, you were told much later, had hummed wistfully, fingers dancing between rings as if she knew much more than anyone else, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips.

The memory makes you laugh now, warming your cold fingers against your first winter storm in Kings Landing. Snow torrents in whirlwinds and spikes, filling the Godswood in flurries and icicles.

Your Lady In Waiting, Emma Redwyne with her pretty Tully red hair and curled lashes that you had always found envy in, bows in greeting. You don't acknowledge her, which you recognise as nothing but pettiness, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You continue to stare forward, hand outstretched in the flurry of snow, when she awkwardly speaks.

"The prince is in your bedchambers, my princess."

You hum in acknowledgement, but no more. She shifts.

"He says he will not leave lest it is you who tells him so."

You turn to her, churlish in your expression of irritation and she winces, tucking her chin once more in false reverence before you sigh. The Lady Redwyne had been a friend once, an acquaintance really. Your grandmother had warned you that though you should have a good relationship with your ladies, it was best to keep them at an arm's length.

"Vipers and greed make stock in the centrefold of power, my dearest," she murmured, gnarled hands twinning your hair, a colour close to her own when she had been your age. You had been told you looked just like her, a gem in her era, her hand sought after by lords and princes alike before your grandsire made a weighty proposal to her house. "No matter what friendship you can build, all of it is but fat clouds and sandcastles. Pretty as they are, easily destructible by the next gust of wind."

"But they would be my ladies." The idea that the women closest to you should be kept with a good eye brought a weight to your chest. Trust is a hard thing to grasp in this place, you were fast learning.

You grandmother tutted, her hands cupping your chin, tilting upward until the same eyes met. One aged and knowing, another young and soon will understand the weight of life. Of the coat she bore with her husband's house in front of the Sept.

"Just watch and see, my sweet. Your future husband is a prince. They will try their damnedest. But you should not lose, for you are his wedded consort."

Now, your eyes linger on the cut of Lady Redwyne's gown. Far too revealing for the coldest touch of the year. The rogue in her cheeks, in her lips. There is a new necklace nestled on her bosom, no doubt an insistent gift from her father.

You wonder if your husband had stirred at the sight of her full visage. That if you had not been upset with him as it it, and have not abandoned your marriage quarters for three moons now, his fingers would have danced across her pale collarbones, fingering the dropped ruby at the centre of her throat. Pressing a light kiss on the gem.

The fornicated memory brings nausea and anger, but you are not new to your role, much less the greed of others, even those closest to you, so you strangled it with will.

If Aegon had dared to mock you anew while you were both in cold waters, he has been too aware now of your anger and what it means for him.

You look back at the peek of red leaves still attached to the tree, almost a stubborn refusal to move with the order of the gods, and you smile despite yourself.

"... My princess?"

Your annoyance spikes.

"And if I tell you to tell him that I will sleep in another chamber, mayhaps upturn a chamber meant for guests, will he then rot forever in my bedchamber?" You turn to her, eyebrow arched. "Will he not be accosted for leaving his duties undone? Must I treat him as a babe throwing a tantrum? Soothe him?" You step toward her. She flinches, a bird wanting to take flight but knows better than to move without her mistress' orders. "Or have you already tried so, to soothe the prince, and have been told to scram, to fetch me, for you are not his wife?"

Her eyes flutter, chest heaving. "My Princess, please—"

"Enough," you say primly, gathering your skirts. "Come to my chambers before dinner but no earlier. The only reason I haven't sent you back to the Reach is by grace and no more."

"My princess." She bows again and you don't miss the clenched jaw as you leave in a flutter of your bloodred gown and arched chin.

You have only just turned a corner when you hear a voice, soft and silky, familiar for many moons now.

"That was harsh of you, good sister."

You pause and spin, letting out a small laugh at the appearance of your good brother. Tall and princely in visage, he inclines his head in greeting while you bow.

"You are mistaken, my prince."

"Hm?"

You smirk. "That was kindness on my part."

He hums, fighting off a smile. Or what you think is a smile. Prince Aemond is still a mystery to you, but he is polite and you find yourself in good ease with your good brother. Unlike your husband, he wears his duty like armour and wield it like a sword. More than once, you are made to imagine what it would be like to have been married to him instead of your husband, and you blanche at the thought.

Though there is complications and evergreen misunderstanding with your husband at most turns, you cannot find yourself happy to the idea of being married to the One-Eyed Prince. There is nothing to say of his scarred appearance— as it does nothing but exemplify his gifted wielding of the sword, but being so honour and duty bound as you, it would be a cool, crisp marriage wheeled on routine and silent understandings.

A monotonous life might be a mercy to most, a dream to some even, but it brings hives to your skin at the mere idea.

Silent dinners and polite conversations are one thing. A marriage built on everything but... it would unsettle and madden your soul.

He offers his arm. "May I escort you to your chambers and my sad sack of a brother?"

You temper your giggle, taking his elbow. "I would be delighted."

Quiet pinches both of your measured footsteps, but you revel in its serenity. Maegor's Holdfast is stone and steel in the winters, fewer bodies lingering in corridors and corners to stave off into rooms with heat, but the rest that do are about, bow at your persons.

"I see you are adjusting well," he finally says. You turn, eyebrow arched. "As a princess consort of the realm."

"Was I so unprepared in my earlier moons?"

"In a way. Helaena says you are still comely and kind, despite being married to my brother."

"I am satisfied in my marriage, Prince Aemond," you say, unable to stop your raised hackles and need to defend your husband. "My duty to the realm is not strained in the least, and I... care for him."

He gives you a long look but you refuse his stare. He hums again, and whatever topic is breached is dropped. The quiet follows up until the doors of your chambers where he stops.

"Thank you for escorting me, my prince. I know your duties occupy your time."

"A duty of mine is to ensure my good sister is in safe hands." He gives a beckoning bow, notching an eyebrow at the door. "And I wish you ever happiness with your marriage to my brother, the Seven knows your duty is harder than mine."

Before you can retort, he is gone, and you are left with a sigh before you push through.

Though a prince, there is nothing princely of Aegon's sprawl on your bed. His gold, silver spun hair like a halo akimbo his face. Warmth emanates from the fire while he plays with his fingers atop his stomach.

"I thought you will ignore me once more, my wife," he speaks to the air, face still straight to the ceiling.

As you close the doors, a nod to your sworn shield, your straightened shoulders hunch as you relax. An unladylike snort breaking through the quiet. You don't see it, but Aegon smiles at the sound, a pang hitting his chest at the sound of comfort that he misses so.

"These are my chambers, husband," you say. "Unless you are meaning to kick me out of the Keep in total, I think my appearance in my own is not a totally shocking thought."

You sit beside him but do not lay down, giving him a good look as he stares up at you with a vacant expression. He is sober, in a way that there is a glassy sheen to his mullish blue eyes the colour of lightning and thunderstorms. His pallour is pale and his clothes are rumpled, but there is no near stench of wine or woman.

In fact he smells like Aegon on his good days; dragon and grime at the edges, soot and wind.

"I have not been to the Silk Street since we have been married," he says as if reading your thoughts. "I have not, and will refuse, to stray from our marital chambers." He gives you a poke. Like a child. "Unlike you."

You know he is telling the truth. He made the vow to you on your marriage bed, hands intertwined, fresh purple blooms appearing on your throat as he bore crescent shaped moons on his back.

You had to wear high-necked collars for two weeks. In the summers. It was impossibly awful, but the memory of your first night is one you cherish. What you go back to when tempers flare and sadness beckons in corners.

He had spent that first night worshipping you, ensuring you are more than sated before he had taken his own pleasure.

"But women who want you need not be whores to tempt you to their beds," you finish softly, unable to stop yourself as you take one of his hands to your lap, spinning the silver ring he keeps on his last finger.

"My wife, dearest to my heart." Your eyes flutter close at the endearments. It was a running joke to both of you, a joke that evolved with sincerity and... well, you hoped was love.

"I had tea with your grandmother, wife."

You looked up from your lunch, lips thinning at the joke and excitement nestled in giggles he was holding back. "Oh no. I knew I should have sent her back home the minute our vows were over."

He laughed then, taking the unoccupied seat across from you as he pressed his lips to your head. It made your heart flutter, even more so as he plucked a berry from your tart and offered it to your lips. He looked with insistence so you ate it. He pressed a thumb to your bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to his own lips. You tried not to furiously blush.

"What has she told you?"

"Many a topic." He laughed again at your groan. Aegon had found himself enamoured with you as days past. Learning how you act less primly and more comfortable in his presence had brought him a good sense of happiness. Something he thought he lost forever. And he found, the happier he made you, the stronger the happiness in himself grew. It was an addicting feeling.

"But the prime idea were endearments."

"Endearments?"

"That a husband and wife with a pretty marriage such as ours, as we are royals, must show hope and perpetual peace for the people."

You frowned. "And... endearments give perpetual peace to the people how?"

"A show of the stability of our marriage. Of fondness. So now, I shall call you my dearly beloved heart."

You made a strange, strangling sound that had your husband giggling in surprise. "Pardon me, my prince. I—"

"Your precious honey bee."

"... Excuse me?"

"Babycakes?"

"Are you ill?"

"The darling of your eye, then."

You blinked. "Pardon?"

"What you call me," he teased.

"I refuse."

"You refuse?"

"Yes." You fought your own smile. "You are not the darling of my eye, and calling you thus, will make me a liar."

The pinched expression of jealousy made you bite your lip. "And who is, pray tell, the darling of your eye?"

"My grandmother."

You pressed your lips together. Aegon blinked in shocked. Then the both of you burst out in hard laughters, holding your chests and stomachs.

"We shall find an endearment for your beloved husband then," he announced after he had gasped for breath, dabbing the tears collected from his eyes. His smile enchanted you, wide and beautiful, upturned with a gaze as if he was beheld by the most darling of creatures. The urge to skip over him, drape yourself on his lap, and kiss him silly was an urge you pushed down.

"The... babe to my wondrous bosom?"

"Aegon!"

"So in counsel? That is not a definite no."

"My love?" he calls now, bringing your shared hands to his lips. "Lay down with me."

Before you can retort, he pulls you down to him until your warmth is shared, burning in a single flame. A sigh leaves your mouth, and the sound urges him to pull you impossibly closer.

"Women may find themselves in our bed, but unless they are you, they are nothing," he says after a minute. You tense up and he rubs your back. "I have made a vow."

"I will not hate you if you do. Anger is sordid, but I know my role. I know that is common practice for husbands, and as Princess Consort—"

He pulls you to him, your chest pressed against his as he held your face in his hands. His eyes are sad but his gaze is firm. "Your role as my wife does not mean you stay silent in your anger. Fight me. Make as much ruckus as you want. Tell Sunfyre to burn me to a crisp. You know as much High Valyiran as I at this point."

You laugh, forehead falling on his chest as you feel the burn in your eyes as tears escaped you. "I am no dragonrider."

A laughter rumbles his chest. "Could have fooled me," he teased.

"What?"

When you look up, he is smirking. "You've ridden me before."

"Aegon!"

He noses your jaw, kissing the edge of your chin. "The lemon of your tart, you mean."

"No, I do not." A sigh leaves you as his kisses turn into suckles, his hands holding you steady, rubbing circles against your skin.

"I think... I am fully forgiven now? For you have slept far away from me—" You yelp as he bites your ear, "— for too long a time. And for spending more time with my brother than you have of me in a while. Truly unfair punishment."

"He has only escorted me."

He flips you both, unlacing the front of your bodice with adept fingers while he leaves a trail of bites at every exposed skin. "While I wait by your chambers like a lovesick fool?"

"I never asked you too, you bumbling oaf."

He huffs a laugh, ripping down the front of your dress as you shriek, eyes meeting your own with a dark glint, before his hot mouth envelops your pert nipple. You keen.

"I am still a-angry with you," you sigh, running your fingers through his silver locks. When your body adjusts, seeking to pleasure the warmth between your thighs, he moves lower as if he can read your mind, read your wants, and when you make a roll of your hips right against his tenting manhood, his groan vibrates against your breast to your ribcages.

"I understand." He leans back on his hunches, smile sweet, before he shuffles around and underneath your dress, past your small clothes, and takes a slow swipe of his finger against your warm, wet folds. Your hips buck, a gasp leaving your throat, and he breathlessly laughs.

"Your beloved honey bee would like to taste the nectar between your thighs that you have so graciously held against me for so long."

You groan, suppressing a shiver as he holds your thighs steady with his own laughter. "The urge to kick you is strong, my husband. Enough to risk the Lord Hand's ire. And your mother's."

He groans, stilling in the midst of pushing your skirts up, he pops his head back toward you. "Please, owner my beating heart. The fire to my dragon. The lemon cake to my tea—

"— that one is your least creative one so far —"

"— Let us not speak of my mother, gods forbid, my grandsire, while I am between your legs. For the good of the realm."

"The good of the realm?" You scoff. Then yelp as he bites your thigh, soothing it with a lap of his tongue.

"Yes, my sweet, the good of the realm." He pops back to you, hair askew, eyes devilish, as he grins. "It is common knowledge that heirs are for the good of the realm. And I cannot bring you pleasure if you keep mentioning people I'd rather not imagine while doing so. And your pleasure, from what your grandmother had told me from our many afternoon teas, my sweetest, golden love, is important for my heirs."

Your giggles turn breathless when he disappears beneath your skirts once more. "I surrender then... apple of my tarts."

The sound of his giggles underneath your skirts soon grow muted against the sound of your pleasure. The thing about Aegon, is that pleasure is meant to be savoured. So as he slowly tears through your own clothes while he makes you reach your peak once, twice, thrice— your skin drenched in sweat, rose blush bloomed your face and neck, arms weakened and thighs unable to hold steady — you turn to your husband, the haze of your orgasm clouding any rational thought as you beheld him, still fully clothed with your juices on his face, a proud smirk twisted on his lips.

"Are you okay, beloved?" He rests a hand on your face and you nuzzle against him. "Shall I call for a bath now?"

"Later," you pronounce breathlessly. "If you do not find yourself inside me in the next second, I shall curse you for evermore."

He laughs, giving you a languid kiss before he steps back and strips.

He does not make a show of it, as harried and hard for you (no catching of his pleasure against the bed could ever compare to thrusting inside of you), and you watch his weeping cock with an unbashed hunger of your own, as he pumps it a few times, eyes staring at your visage as you widen your legs, holding your thighs to give him a sweet view.

He groans. "What Silken Street whore could be compared to my wife so willing? What lady would be enough?"

"I swear to the Seven, if you do not end your blasted soliloquy—"

His laughter rings, body covering your own before he slides in your warm, wet cunny. Blasphemy spills his tongue as a softened sigh leaves you. Though he is not lengthy, his girth stretches, thrilling the nerves up to your throat. The ease is given by your wetness, but he is slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein until you cry softly at your abused pearl rubbing against his body.

"I will not last," he half spits, jaw clenched. "I will have to- I'm sorry but—"

"Do it," you whisper, locking your ankles on his ass as much strength as your legs can allow. "Pound me into the matress."

"Fuck," is the last thing he says before he follows your orders, each hit against your cervix building your own peak. "Pretty wife, darling pearl, the sexiest— fucking—" spills and spits between groans and cries, chasing his high brings your own.

"A-aeg, I—"

He kisses your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he slides a hand between your sweaty bodies, finding your pearl and circling hard. As soon as you're cumming to the high heavens, tightening and twitching, a garbled scream out of your throat— he slams once, twice, as his own high entangles your own, a punctuated moan breaking out of his throat.

His seed spurts, floods, before his cock turns flaccid inside you, and you feel warm and full underneath him.

He presses his forehead against your collarbone. "Maybe we should fight more oft, nectar of my obsession."

"Sure," you say. "I will spend more time with Aemond then."

He punctures a groan as you giggle.

#aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii fluff #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #hotd fluff #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #aegon targaryen ii fluff #aegon targaryen ii

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry au — arrange marriage but with a twist.

Harry Potter wakes up in the body of a villain. A character in an otome game that his goddaughter liked to play. He, being the only one without any kids of his own — always volunteered to take care of her whenever Ron and Hermione finally got some free time together. Thus, they remained really close for years. Even after she grew up she stayed in contact with Harry. And so he knew all about her new obsession.

It was a game where the main character got to choose from six different male leads. They all had their own storyline and apparently it was really popular. It was a story about how this mc, who is a powerful witch — end up winning the heart of the male lead while winning over the kingdom. Because common blood witches/wizards are rare and mostly scorned upon due to not having pure bloodline. And Rose wouldn't stop talking about how interesting it was.

Harry's goddaughter liked everything about the story except one character.

He was the most popular yet the most controversial character; the mad emperor called Voldemort. And there was a reason why he was so popular yet so damned controversial. And no — it was not because of his penchant to torture or order an execution in the bat if an eye. Nope, apparently hot, evil characters tend to be popular anyway, but it mostly was because how no one was able to win his route. Ever.

Voldemort's, or better known as the mad king's — is a route no one ever won. So many people tried, and even begged asked the game developers to give them a hintof how to win his route but apparently they didn't budge and stayed tight lipped about Voldemort's route. Everyone tend to die on his route no matter the choices, no matter what actions you took and no matter how different it was from the last choice. Your character would. just. keep. dying.

But there was one thing that remained common in all of Voldemort's storylines. And it was the main villain. Voldemort's husband. Even when you aren't playing the main game; Voldemort's husband is always trying to make your life hell. So, everytime you win a routine the husband dies a horrible death. Mostly executed by Voldemort himself.

In Voldemort's own route, however — it was different. And how different Harry never got to ask his goddaughter because now he was fucking dead.

And now, here he is. Stuck. In. The. Body. Of. The. Main. Villain. Of. A. game he doesn't even know the name of, for fuck's sake.

Yes, this is a story about how Harry dies and wakes up in the body of a villain who is set up for an arrange marriage with a king who is apparently so hard to win over that even the most likable persons, the main fucking character even — is not able to win him over. So how would, Harry in the body of Harry Evans (they even share the same damn first name, what the fuck.) would win over the husband who's job is to basically kill him after every happy ending? Harry doesn't know.

Cue to Harry doing everything to not die in the hands of Voldemort while trying to figure out how to befriend the mc so he doesn't die due to natural disaster through karma for looking at fate's darling (mc) the wrong way. Also, cue to Harry derailing the plot so hard that the title of the story changes after he is done.

#another isekai plot with tomarry lmao #i love them #i have so many ideas for this au #but other than that #yes it is an otome game au #and you can imagine the 'mc' to be whoever u want #but either ways #follow #harry potter #on this journey of #winning Voldemort over lmaoook #tom riddle #tomarry #harrymort

[fleursbending]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | Jake Sully

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : as your dad navigates his grief, you're there to remind him just of one thing. that you won't be leaving him as well.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : dad!jake sully x neteyams twin sister!reader

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : the very highly anticipated sully!daughter fic is finally here to cure all your daddy issues. it is imperative you read pt 1 because none of this is going to make any sense! hope u have some tissues cause this is a tough one! i also suggest you listen to this on repeat while reading, it just encapsulates perfectly the aura surrounding this story.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, talks of death and grief, sm hurt/comfort, dialogue-heavy, missing neteyam hours, dad!jake is in deep pain.

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 : skimwing - pandoran creature inhabiting the tropical oceans, ‘ite - daughter, sempul - father, ngaytxoa - sorry, my apologies (acknowledgment of guilt and regret), olo'eyktan - clan leader, sa'nok - mother, mawey - calm, 'eveng - child, yawntutsyìp - darling / little loved one, tsmukan - brother, rey’eng - the balance of life.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.2k words (are we surprised) ?!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @pandorainmymind @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @purplehyacinthss @itssiaaax @neteyamoa @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1 @forasgaard @iwaslikeblah @dumb-fawkin-bitch @theicemav @narutoboi

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘 this past few weeks. It greeted you in disguise, leaching at every hope that remained after your brother had taken his last breath. Slowly, but surely - its efforts won in the end. 

After the battle had come to a finish, time stilled once you returned back to the rock. And it escaped you entirely when you returned Neteyam back to Eywa. 

To Y/n, it did not matter that the Metkayina had accepted her family as one of the people. Is this what it had to take? Her brother being ruthlessly killed by the sky demons to really prove their worth? If anything, it made her feel deeply ashamed - scorned.

Everything around Awa'atlu was a reminder of where he coexisted amongst you. The laughter you shared, the games you'd play with Tuk. The teasing and riding your Ilu's together. It played like an old record, jammed in the forefront of your mind. 

That was why you couldn't fall back asleep, tonight the onslaught of harsh memories had demanded your attention. Taunting you, egging you on - what you have lost. What won't remain. 

A frustrated huff fell from you in the silent darkness of your mauri. In the midst of your cuddle pile that your family rested in nightly, there was a gaping space left untouched. The one right beside you. 

It was where he would reside once turning in for the night. These sleeping arrangements were still something you struggled to grow accustomed to. Even if fatigued gnawed at your eyelids, your heart refused to let you rest.

 A faint yet distinct figure pushes themselves up from the pile then, Y/n squints her eyes as they start to make their way out of the mauri. They widen in recognition, it was her father. Where was he heading out to this late into the eclipse? 

Ever so slightly she wriggles and attempts to maneuver out of Lo'ak's hold, the poor boy hadn't been able to disconnect from your side since the unfortunate day. Y/n knows he felt immense guilt for his actions that weren't even his fault. 

But that was something else to worry about for another day.

As you mimic your dad's movements from moments ago, your head turns to look back at your family. Okay, good. None of them had awoken from their deep slumbers.

Whisking around, Y/n peeps out of their mauri. Heart thudding, but oh - there he is. 

Jake had seated himself at a spot on top of the boat that had been gifted to your family after your father had been able to successfully ride a Skimwing. The same spot Kiri sat when she and their father shared a conversation, you had only witnessed the end of it. Unfortunately, you and Neteyam had to cut it short after dragging Ao'nung to them and demanding the idiotic boy, confess to his dumb shenanigans. 

That was the day when you thought you were going to lose Lo'ak. 

It's crazy how little you knew of back then.

Her heart felt so brittle, knowing it was also the spot that had become her and Neteyam's. After seeing it being used that day, it was where you two would go to have quiet intimate conversations. From your worries as the elder kids, or to any fun things that have occurred that day. The both of you had claimed it, but now it had been abandoned. 

Y/n hadn't stepped foot close to its vicinity ever since….everything.

Taking a deep sigh to calm herself, she tiptoed over to Jake.

Nevertheless, Jake alert as ever immediately whipped around. Eyes holding something akin to being on the defense.

Raising your hands up in alarm, you whisper to him, "Dad, hey! It's just me, it's just me."

His mouth gapes as he slumped back down. His shoulders promptly drained away the sudden tension that had built up from the shock. 

"Ah, 'ite. Sorry, you scared me. He spoke, but his voice sounded worlds away. 

You peer down at him, he wasn't usually one to be scared. 

"It is okay, sempul. I should have announced my presence. I'm the one who should be sorry."

He rasped out, "Stop apologising, you do not need to apologise!"

Her ears flatten then, folding themselves back. Y/n's tail lowly swishes in anxiousness at his rash tone. 

"Sempul-" You said in a small panicky voice.

He hushed you, making you sit down by him. Jake brought you into his arms, holding onto you as tight as he could without harming you. 

"I'm so sorry, sweet girl. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He continued to express his regrets quietly as he rocked you in his arms, chin pressed to the top of your head.

The luminescent ocean ceased its aggravated waves then as if to give you a tender moment of peace. 

Jake chokes on his next words, and it makes you straighten up in an instant. There's a resounding affliction that lingers in the words that flow out of him like he'd been slammed back to earth. 

"Losing a twin is far worse in comparison to losing your legs."

The cries saddle him then, and it pierces through your core. He's trembling a worrisome amount, cowering away from your imploring gaze. 

You've never heard your father cry before. Not like this.

"Ngaytxoa, sempul." 

It was something you'd only say in dire moments to drive the point home whenever you screwed up really badly. An admission of guilt, something that holds more weight than the sorry's you've been speaking back and forth to each other since the beginning of this encounter.

Jake knew this, far too well actually. It made him tense up.

You know the tales, the struggles he had to overcome when he was disabled. How much he loathed himself and the life earth had carved out and boxed him in. His brother's death was his calling to try to do something greater with his life. 

Then he became a dream walker, a body that gave him far more solitude than he ever imagined. Jake never wanted to return to his human form due to how in tune he felt with his na'vi body.

The sentence he had just uttered made you frankly realise how burdening his grief must be for him.

His firstborn son, his hopes and dreams. His entire life. Neteyam was his boy. Jake's mighty fisherman, Jake's mighty warrior, Jake's solitude.

 It all came at you in full force then. 

The devastated man before you didn't even care about how worthless all the training for Neteyam becoming the future Olo'ekytan came to be. He came to terms with that once he made the tough decision for his family to leave everything they have ever known. 

It paled in comparison to the remorse he felt for what he could have experienced with his son instead. That was something that bothered Jake to the bone. The fact that he would never be able to make up for the lost time with Neteyam. 

He'd never be able to share a new moment with him again. 

The duration of his fatherhood began with Neteyam, and a part of it sunk alongside his child when the sea anemone passed him on to the great mother.

Now you were all that remained of him, and Jake had never felt such immeasurable unsettled shame. His one duty as a father is to protect his children. To guide you through life, to aid you in whatever way was possible for him. Even with the tiny wiggle room you'd given him to do so, he tried his best. 

For the first time with you though - his best was not enough. 

Jake failed your family, and in doing so, he failed you. 

His firstborn daughter, his pride and joy. His softness. You were his unbreaking glue, the one who kept him together. He couldn't utilise that this time, Jake did not deserve that. 

Although he was a fool to think so cruelly because you were just like him. 

He too was what remained of a bond so unwavering and mighty. A remnant of what could have been, what has been lost - and what is forced to stay.

While you never witnessed firsthand him experiencing that, he relived it through you and Neteyam. He admired you two graciously, seeing you both flourish amongst one another. How an attachment so noticeable and persistent, only grew in tandem over the years.

Wherever Neteyam and Y/n would be, they swiftly knew they were in the same proximity to each other. Y/n never had to look, she just knew it was him. Jake knows this because he nurtured you, taught you the ways of the people like Neytiri had done for him all those years ago. 

Two peas in a pod, an impenetrable force. Each other's shadow, each other's light. 

You both would always weave each other out of the darkness that bloomed in your minds every now and then. Conveying the importance of what life has to offer. 

Forced to mature at a quicker pace than most kids your age, because the world you lived in demands it. Forced to learn the ways of war when your tiny hands could barely even wrap around a trigger of a gun. 

He wasn't easy on you two.

Now more than ever, he wished he had been.

"Oh, dad." You mumbled, tears beginning to well up in your own eyes as you tug him back into another embrace. 

There in his baby daughter's arms, he finally lets it all out. Somber wails ebb into your shoulder as you squeeze him, giving Jake some much-needed security. There, he allows himself to wallow in his grief, letting it finally catch up on him.

At the end of the day, he was a father who had lost one of his greatest accomplishments.

And you were his kid who lost two pillars in her life. Your home, and your twin. It was haunting you every waking moment, the thoughts of what you should be experiencing. What he should be doing. 

It felt like the world was ridding Jake of all he has to live for, a repetition so caving and tumultuous. 

"Now your kid has to really follow in your footsteps," is the dread that drills in his mind. 

You didn't deserve this, once again he felt and harbored the most guilt. It was like he was watching Home Tree fall right before his eyes all over again. 

It was all his fault, and without exception - always will be.

As if Y/n read his mind, and picked apart all that he currently is. The inner turmoils he had been forced to with had come to an all-time peak.

She soothed, "It's not your fault."

He sighs in return, "Y/n."

You shake your head, that same determination from when you were both trapped in the sinking ship flickering in your eyes. 

"It is not your fault." You annunciate each word, each syllable.

You survey him, letting out a low scoff at his avoidant eyes. 

"We cannot do this to ourselves. It cannot be mine, Lo'ak's, or your burden to keep. If we head in that direction, we'll meet that demon ship on the ocean floor." 

Some of those words sink in with her as well, she knows she can't keep living like this.

Y/n realises that her words aren't resonating with Jake. The man before her was a shell of her father that could usually endure anything that came his way.

Jake was distraught, frantic for answers - why him? Why his family? Why Neteyam?

You survey your surroundings then, trying to see if you can knock him out of the reverie that has taken him by storm. You didn't want to be too abrupt with it, not wanting another abrasive reaction like before to happen.

All you see is the cerulean water.

Y/n lets her hands glide along the tide, cupping some in her hands only to then let it sprinkle over Jake.

He blinks at the sudden cold raining over him. 

"Sorry, 'ite-"

"I think we should forbid that word from being mentioned for the rest of tonight." 

Jake lets out a huff through his nose in response.

"Ma sempul, please. Look at me. You haven't properly done so since that night." You plead to him.

He gulps, gripping at the boat beneath him and letting his knuckles turn a stark white.

"I can't." He cries out, eyes squeezing shut in remorse and chagrin. 

"Yes, you can. Come on, dad." 

Shaky hands grab at his face, almost slipping at the sheer amount of tears that cascade like a ruthless never-ending waterfall. 

His heavy eyes try to stay level with your arms that have reached out for his face. 

Before finally, he looks at you.

A soundless sob rakes through him then, and in return, you shed a few of your own. 

"I miss him, I miss him so much. I can't sleep, I can barely stomach anything. I can't properly take care of your mother, our family-"

His words stumble out of him at a rapid pace, but you do your best to soothe him as he tries to catch his breath through some sniffles.

"-I can't be a good father while navigating this grief." 

Finally, he properly exhales. Releasing himself from the internal battles that had kept him restless all this time.

You pat his cheek in reassurance and fondness, "That's where you're wrong. You're being a good father right now."

He inhaled shakily, the waterworks returning to him at your genuine ways of trying to give him comfort. Jake is terrified though, he'd never been this vulnerable with you.

Maybe when you were a lot younger, yes

But life swept you both up, too invested in your own responsibilities. Back then there was time for your father-daughter extravaganzas. A time when he'd be able to take you out in broad daylight and let you go flying with him on his Ikran. Before the sky people returned,  before Jake had to reassemble his war party and train them heavily again. 

A time when being Olo'eyktan wasn't as demanding as it came to be. 

Jake's hands grab onto yours, inevitable shame still coursing through him. 

He should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.

But grief demands to be felt. It's not something you can outrun, it'll overtake you eventually. 

You try to dispel some of his fears. 

"It's okay right now to feel all these things, sempul. But we can't let it overrule us, we can't let it win." 

Subconsciously, he squeezes your hand that still lingered on the apple of his cheek. There was an unsettling glimmer that still lay behind his eyes. Y/n knew then, there was a root he had yet to relinquish. There was still something brewing in his head that had been the biggest reason that he'd been kept awake these past few nights.

Y/n tilts her head, wordlessly questioning him. Beckoning Jake to reveal the mangled web that connected everything together. 

His hands tremor once more, lips wobbling as he struggles to maintain his already fractured composure. The sight leaves a heavy weight on your heart, desperately wanting to know already so you could try to ease the pain. 

After a moment's reflection, he speaks, "Every time I look at you, I'm so scared it's going to be the last time, 'ite."

Neteyam sighs from above you both then. Eywa looks at him, daring him to voice out his thoughts.

"They are so determined and hard-headed, great mother. You know, the people always said to us that I was more like sa'nok. But she was always a carbon copy of our sempul. Ugh, I miss them." 

She hums in acknowledgment, the great mother already knowing this. 

They both return to peer down at the two figures below them.

"I just can't. I won't lose you too." He reiterates then, mind clouded at the thought of losing you the same way you all lost Neteyam. 

The sky people would cease to exist if they dares to do such an act.

"Sempul, mawey. I am not going anywhere. I am staying right here. I will always be here. He will always be here, I'm sure he is now." 

Neteyam chuckles at that, how ironic.

 He points to you excitedly, "see great mother, it's like this twin telepathy thing." 

Y/n rests the palm of her hand against Jake's chest, where her dad's heart stills. 

"I do not know what it feels like, to be a parent. But I know what it does feel like, to be your daughter. It is the greatest gift Eywa could ever give me, dad. I won't ever take that for granted, not anymore. You won't lose me, especially not like that." Your words hinted at a darker ending, one you dearly hoped you wouldn't be meeting anytime soon. 

You'd do anything in your power to keep that promise to your father, it's the least you can do after all the trauma he has had to clamber through. 

"Ma ‘eveng." 

Y/n gives him a wistful smile, and he returns it with the most genuine grin you've seen ever since the passing. 

It gave you a semblance of relief. Now having a true grasp of your father's mind as of late, Y/n couldn't help but feel repentant. It'll be alright though, time doesn't have to be kind to you. As long as you are with one another, you'll continue to help him in any way possible to fight his grief. 

"Thank you, yawntutsyìp." Jake beams, and you know you don't have to say anything in return for him to see the gratitude you hold towards him.

You stand then, tugging at his hand for him to come with you.

"Come on old pal, let's get some much-needed sleep."

He scoffed, fingers darting to your sides and pinching them - "I'm not that old!"

Y/n giggles, leaning into him and hugging Jake's waist. He guides you back into the dark of your mauri.

Seeing your family all resting harmoniously gave you a newfound sense of hope. It'll take time to heal and grow from this, sure. But you're the Sully's.

You've made it through the utmost of hell, surely you can make your way back down.

Even if your inner demons continued to nag at your mind, - you stood by your stance then.

Y/n would do it all over again if it meant she could return back to her family at night. If at the end of the day - she can meet them, feel their presence with her. That was enough.

It gave her the greatest consolation that she still felt him then, her tsmukan. Her rey'eng.

Her reason to make it through another day. 

Y/n's protector who will always and forever be mighty, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. 

He held his hand to his heart then. Neteyam would forever be indebted to Eywa, the boy appreciative that indeed - he could feel you too.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

#junie's library 📚✧.* #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #jake sully x reader #atwow spoilers #neteyam x sister!reader #neteyam sully x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar james cameron #avatar x reader #jake sully #dad!jake sully #avatar: the way of water #atwow

[starshipsofstarlord]

Little Rascal

The pack discovers that Peter has a life that he cares about hidden in Beacon Hills. A wife and a son that they have never before met (1.4k)

Warnings - fluff, pet names, dad!Peter, brief mention of murder and sex, Peter’s secret little life, threats, season 4 based yet loosely different with how Peter goes about working with Scott, deadpool

peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf

To say that Peter was glad to be home, away from all of the chaos that he contributed within the McCall pack, was a dangerous understatement. He hates being away from his own little world, for he cared for those he had in it, and he was a whole different person whilst he was there.

Home, it was the first time in a long duration of such where he felt as though he could call a place that. But it wasn’t just the environment, it was also those that lived in it alongside him, he loved the mundane aspects, how he could relax on the sofa and not have to worry about the ghosts that were in his scorned past.

“Honey Bee.” Peter called out to his sentimental lover; the only one he could love other than his troublesome young son. The dismissive clatter of dishes reached his ears as they were placed in the kitchen basin, and his love came to stand before him as he was seated on the couch, a tiny monster of his own creation clasped with his arms around his mothers legs.

“Yes darling?” She spoke softly to him, combing through her son’s dark locks with her maternal fingers, and the sight made the big bad wolf smile a real smile, one of happy content. Y/N’s head was cocked to the side as she enquired on why he called for her presence, and the man stood, untangling his child from around his wife’s legs and brought him up into his arms.

Taryn was weightless, yet he weighed down Peter’s heart heavy with loving adoration. He could not wait until he and Y/N procreated another little critter that would run around their home just the same as the one he held did. It was the best thing to ever happen to him, being a father.

He had not watched Malia grow up, and that was nothing short of a shame, but now he had the chance to do better and be there as he was more than well aware of the ever encompassing presence of his youngest child.

“I-“ before he could speak on what he had planned, there was an ever so stiff knock rattling on the front door to his secret haven. A derelict sigh made the man roll his tortured eyes as he steadied Taryn more securely upon his hip, pressing a firm peck to his wife’s temple before stepping towards the entrance to their home and unlocking the barrier that protected all that he cared for to onlooking eyes.

And there on the other side was formidably confused pack members, of which he occasionally aided, his only surviving nephew included. His arm propped more securely around his son as he glared with lack of impression, bemused about his unexpected visitors.

They shouldn’t have been here, he hadn’t even let them know the whereabouts of his address, and thus they must have tracked his scent to here. “Can I help you?” The old alpha scowled, his expression creasing even more when Derek dared to take a step closer. “That’s your son.” His raven haired nephew stated, picking up on the boy’s familiar scent.

“You have a kid, other than Malia?” Stiles retorted, feeling rather glad that his werecoyote girlfriend had not accompanied them to their destination. Scott too was rather surprised, he had expected that Peter had nothing driving his life other than a blood lust for power, however it appeared that they had all been wrong. There was a piece of him that was surprisingly human, and it was something that none of them had ever expected to uncover.

After all he had done, perhaps he had committed his wrong doings for another reason than vengeance; he was protecting his own little pack. “Peter, we need your help.” Scott stated with his soft alpha demeanour, understanding if he were unwilling to give his aid at this particular time. He had never been a fan of Peter, not after changing him to be a werewolf against his will, and especially not after threatening the lives of those he cared about, but he had to admit, he conditioned a heart felt feeling for the man. It wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t not happiness either.

“I guess you’ve caught me in a good mood.” It was something the pack members had rarely witnessed, Peter was hardly generous, but he wanted to try and be a good example for his son. “Come on in - but don’t make yourselves at home. I’d prefer for this to not take too long.”

At least his blunt honesty wasn’t peculiar behaviour, and thus with wary footsteps Stiles was forced by Scott’s hand upon the back of his shoulder to enter the home of Peter Hale. “What’s your kid’s name?” Derek asked, curious about his newly discovered cousin. The kid shyly bowed his head, his locks falling before his eyes as Peter placed him like a feather on the floor.

Taryn was preferable to remain in Peter’s shadow. Tucking his hands around his father’s legs as he adapted to the strangers that his father had invited inside. Without hesitancy, despite the company he had, Peter crouch’s down and comforted his son. “It’s okay, you can introduce yourself. These are… some friends of mine.” He’d have rather proclaimed them as acquaintances however that would unsettle Taryn, and it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“My name is Taryn.” The spawn of Scott’s first enemy quietly spoke, making his father proud for doing so. “Why don’t you go to your room son, I’ll be right in after talking to my friends.” The boy needn’t be told twice, he was shy, especially around the rare amount of strangers he had met, and so he gladly trotted off down the hallway, giddy for his ‘daddy’s friends’ leave.

Peter stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “What is it that you needed from me?” His stoic demeanour returned as he expectedly awaited an answer to those that brought constant chaos into his now calm life. “Perhaps to know who would have a child with you, the mass murderer that went around the town killing only for it all to be blamed on a mountain lion.” Stiles scoffed, shocked that someone would willingly procreate with such a monster.

“That would be me.” A voice startled the sarcastic boy, one of feminine grace and beauty which astounded Stiles whom was gasping at the sight of the goddess like creature that stalked in the room before them. “Do we have a problem here darling, or do I need to rip a tongue or two out to bring some quiet back to our home?” Her eyebrows raised as she glowered upon the folk that were crowded in the entryway, looking to her husband for confirmation.

“It’s fine Y/N.” It wasn’t very often that Peter called her by her name, however he was on edge for the seriousness that was contorting the faces of the pack members. “But what I am wanting to know is what isn’t fine, since I assume that’s what you lot were going to tell me.” Derek inhaled through his nose as Scott stepped closer, understanding that the threat was far larger to Peter than he had earlier anticipated.

“There’s a dead pool for supernatural creatures. They are going to try and kill us for money, your money in fact. And I’m willing to bet your family are on the other parts of the list; so, are you willing to help us protect our kind, or will you run, like you always do? I’d understand if you did the latter, I never knew you had a son and a…”

“Wife.” Y/N finished the sentence for Scott, crossing her arms as she stood closer to her husband. “If you need help, you have mine, I will do anything to protect my son.” It was unexpected however Derek nodded in appreciation for her words. Peter weaved his fingers through hers as he ogled worryingly at his beauty, and he was the beast, a beast that was to be hunted and fighting for the life of his family.

“Our son.” He spoke humbly, becoming protective as he thought of all he had to lose. “Just tell us what you want us to do Scott, but remember, our priority is Taryn, his life is more important than any other to us. I will not save a life if it means risking his, but we will do our best.”

“I understand.” Scott said harmlessly, for the first time gracing his maker with a smile. None of this would have tied the alpha up in this mess if Peter had never bitten him, however there was nothing for him to do that would erase that past. “And thank you, I’m glad that we’re on the same side when it comes to this.”

#peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #peter hale fluff #Peter hale oneshot #peter hale imagines #peter hale x you #peter hale x y/n #peter hale #Peter hale fanficton #Peter hale fic #Ian bohen x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf fanfiction

[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

#blue eye samurai #bes #bes mizu #mizu x you #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai smut #mizu x y/n #lIGHTTT very light akemi x mizu #if you squint

[spacexseven]

misconduct

NOTE: i really missed working on oneshots :>>

REQUEST: yandere! dazai with an oblivious + self sacrificing darling from @cc-6789

CW: yandere character + themes, obsession, jealousy, stalking, deceit, (heavy) manipulation, abuse of power, breaking and entering. dazai is an Asshole

the first time you loudly declared that you trusted dazai enough to go check on a case with him, dazai felt his heart falter.

it was almost funny how quickly you trusted him, but the thought that you might share your trust with anyone else immediately silenced any humor dazai may have found in the situation. if all it took from him was to regularly ask you about your day, with a little flirting on the side for you to already decide that he was...nice, what would it take from anyone else? was kunikida, who, despite his harsh comments, personally guided you through the hectic report writing process, also nice? was yosano, with her insisting that you step out of the office with her to stretch your legs, also just as easy to trust? though he was confident none of his coworkers held the same wicked thoughts about you as he did, the bitter taste in his mouth refused to go away every time he saw you cling onto yosano on your way out or graciously smile at kunikida before heading home.

and about why he decided to mess with you despite knowing that you trusted him, honestly, he was only curious—just how much did you trust him? or, perhaps, a sullen part of him thinks, it may just be an offhanded statement by which you meant nothing. though nobody around dazai threw around the word trust lightly, he wasn't sure if it was the same for you.

honestly, you weren't all that special in dazai's book, nobody as memorable as the dangerous ability users he mingled with or the incomprehensibly genius minds he discussed with. but there was something about you that lingered in his mind. he can't put his finger on it exactly, but he identified it to be woven into your determination and unwavering resolve, hidden in the bright look in your eyes when you grinned at his antics, and surrounding the silent reassurance you offered when the world weighed down on him—something about you that was entirely unforgettable. somehow, the perfectly ordinary you became so unattainable and striking, even without trying.

and he coveted for all that was you to be his, for it to be tucked away in the palm of his hand, hidden away from prying eyes. he yearned for it to shine for him and not for anyone else, not for any other sweet words or gentle caresses. wasn't it selfish? to want someone so much?

for the most part, you were oblivious to his sinister desires. if not, why were you so careless around him? why did you smile so freely, gravitate towards him so naturally, as though it was perfectly normal to do so? he wonders if you'll scorn him if you knew how selfish he was; not that he couldn't take care of it anyway.

dazai inches a little bit closer to your stiff figure, watching out of the corner of his eye as you glance over at him nervously. at this rate, he was going to be in your lap before you could leave. he observes your eyes flitting between the clock on the wall, its hand crawling at an unbearably slow pace, and to his hand, which had found purchase on your thigh.

he lets his hand shift, holding his breath as his fingers graze your inner thigh with a light touch—light enough to resemble a slight breeze or a delicate brush, but you know it was him. he waits, with bated breath, his fingers on your thigh trembling in anticipation. your lips purse together, a frown slowly creeping onto your face, eyes stuck onto your screen instead now.

and then—"dazai," you finally acknowledge the man beside you, "i'm sure you're bored by watching me work all day long."

he stares at you, not exactly surprised by your response. you go on about how he could just wait outside and you'd be out in a moment or if he'd like you could close up now, but instead of paying attention to your words, his gaze is stuck on your pretty mouth. your lips, he observes, are chapped and dry. you don't seem to notice his attention shift as you ramble on, words never reaching dazai.

you're cut off abruptly when he leans over and starts digging into your bag, finally grasping the cylindrical tube he had been looking for.

"pucker up," he grins deviously at your startled expression, waving the tube in his hand.

honestly, you were far too cute—you had to be doing this on purpose. he was tempted to grab your face and kiss you right then, but he knew better than to try. as the confusion cleared up, you awkwardly follow his orders, hands clenched at your sides. any last protests from you are ignored, his fingers firmly holding your jaw.

a soft smile makes its way onto dazai's face as he slides the balm over your lips. you're still staring at him, quietly, unmoving, but your eyes are locked onto him. he thinks, for a moment, that he quite likes you this way; only looking at him.

"thanks..." though you sound confused, dazai doesn't try to explain himself. instead, he's waiting for you to say something. waiting for you to awkwardly ask him to not to that again, politely say something about boundaries and personal space. but you only look at him for a moment longer before directing your gaze back to your work, obviously unsure of what to do.

perhaps a little recklessly, he decides to test the limits again.

"say," he places a hand over yours, stopping you from typing, "about your friend in the special division..."

your eyes light up as you turn to face him, "oh!," you mention a name dazai can't be bothered to remember—he knows the loser's face, anyway, "he was the one who got me a job here, actually. do you know him, dazai?"

he inhales deeply and then sighs, as though he was gathering up the courage to tell you something. your interest is obviously piqued, as you completely move your hands away from the keyboard.

"well ango mentioned," you'd recognize ango's name for sure, "that he was acting a little...strange. sort of jumpy and on edge," dazai pauses for a minute to gauge your reaction, biting back a smile, "i was just wondering if you were aware of anything going on in his personal life?"

"not that i know of, but dazai, why—"

"none of this is really any of my business, but ango sounded really worried about it. and you know, there was some suspicious activity linked back to him as well...missing files and the sort...."

dazai was distracted for a moment, musing on how cute your shocked expression was.

"you don't think...he can't be a spy. he doesn't have any suspicious friends, and he really loves his job. i just can't imagine..."

dazai, with a perfectly feigned expression of concern, places a hand on your shoulder, "for the time being, i think it's best you distance yourself a little. obviously, there'll be an investigation and i'm afraid they might trace things to you. "

"that...makes sense," you whisper.

"i didn't mean to make you worried, [name]. i know you'd never do such a thing, but if he were to frame you or try to drag you into this..."

noticing your distraught expression, dazai tries to apologize to you for ruining your mood. you reassure him after that, though your voice is still shaky and dazai knows you're the one in need of reassurance. but what he's really interested in is whether you'd listen to him or the desperate pleas of your friend. whether you'd trust his words or not.

it's a few days later that you slump over in your seat, looking absolutely devastated.

"he was packing up his things," you manage to say, "and...he kept saying that he was being set up."

dazai nods along as you confide in him your suspicions, not at all suspecting that your friend was telling the truth all along.

"and then," you lower your voice even more, "he kept mentioning you, and said that you were lying."

dazai's blood runs cold, and he rapidly assesses the situation. how could he salvage this? how could he—

"i think my phone's bugged!" you finally declare, much to his surprise, "i mean, how else would he know what we talked about?"

it occurs to dazai then, in a wonderful revelation, that you didn't suspect him, even for a moment. you had immediately assumed it was your so-called friend who was lying. oh, what a marvelous thing trust was. dazai doesn't waste any more time. he offers you some comforting words and asks you if you want to take the day off. in response, you look at him like he just offered you the world. you were so easy to please, he thinks, wouldn't it be just as easy for someone to sweep you up and away from him?

he thinks of suave, charming mafioso and exciting, mysterious strangers. he thinks of seductive smiles and alluring words. there was too much on the line, and you were not yet completely reliant on him. he had his work cut out for him, but he didn't mind. it was always so rewarding, working with you. dazai thinks of all the limits he can breach, all the lines he can cross. he could touch you more, he could plant more seeds of suspicion. he thinks about helping you out first, whisking you out of particularly risky missions, and protecting you from unpleasant people. after that, wouldn't it feel so natural for him to insist he should walk you home?

and would you be so upset if he were to hold you tightly, closely, if it was only because he was hiding the both of you from a pursuer? would you be doubtful the next time he told you that yet another friend was planning something evil, or hesitate when he claimed that a heinous crime was in the area and that you should obviously stay with him?

maybe it was the paranoia that brought him to do this. dazai peers over his glass at your frozen figure by the doorway, wondering what your next words would be.

"dazai," you begin, confusion lingering in your words, "i wasn't expecting to see you here."

he shrugs, swirling the little liquid left in his—your—glass, before leaning forwards and placing it down.

"you weren't at work."

you blink slowly, "is that why you're here?"

"why didn't you come?" the actual question he wants to ask is left unspoken—was it because of me? he's not worried, not as much as he is cautious. it would be a shame to lose everything he's worked on all this time just because he pushed you a little too far.

"i just needed to take my mind off things after everything that's happened. but dazai," the corners of your lips tug downwards ever so slightly, "is that why you're here?"

"i thought," he says, his voice the most serious you've ever heard it, "that something had happened to you. you were worried about being bugged, and then the next day, you just...don't show up."

the hand around your bag strap tightens, and you straighten up.

"i didn't realize," you mutter, "i should have said something."

"you should have," he agrees.

"i'm sorry," your voice trembles ever so slightly, and he delights in the way it wavers. he loves the effect he has on you.

"it's alright," dazai smiles, benevolent and warm, as though you were in the wrong here, and not him, who made himself all too comfortable in a space that wasn't his, "i'm just glad you're safe."

dazai, again, thinks of cruel, brash mafioso and frightening, deceitful strangers. he thinks of mocking snarls and vicious threats. when he sees the way you look at him, hopeful and expectant, he finds that you had come a long, long way already.

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs ff #bungo stray dogs x you #yandere bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #yandere dazai bsd #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai #req 🐟 #bsd 🐟 #os 🐟 #fic 🐟 #dazai 🐟

[glacierclear]

mlem.

#my art #oc #akir inder #her darling scorned

[matchavellichor]

No Better Way to Warm Up - Pt. 2

Sebastian x Ominis x f!MC - (NSFW) - 4.5k words - ao3 link

Shameless smut, first part here ╰(*´︶`*)╯

“This is the second time we’re watching her sleep, it’s getting a little creepy at this point, isn’t it?”

“Well, I’m not watching anything.” Ominis retorted, twirling a small lock of her hair in his fingers, his movements soft and gentle, cautious not to rouse her.

“Yes, and what an unlucky bastard you are.” Sebastian cheeked, tracing over her silhouette under the covers, the soft linen hugging her curves. If he had a bit less self-control, he’d be tugging the fabric down to stare at her properly, but she looked far too precious sound-asleep that it’d break his heart to wake her.

“It’s nearly noon,” Sebastian frowned, shifting to glance at his watch laying on the bedside table. “Maybe you’re right, we pushed her too far last night.” 

“We’ll make it up to her today.” Ominis assured, leaning down to place feather-light kisses on her bare shoulders peeking out from under the covers. She was so soft and warm, he wanted to sink into her skin and live in bed with her forever.

Soon enough she stirred from the contact, a sleep-drunk smile breaking out on her lips, as if she’d just woken from the sweetest of dreams. The sight made Sebastian’s heart swell until he simply couldn’t help himself and was leaning down to place a kiss on her lips before she could even fully wake.

“Happy Christmas, darling.” Ominis murmured in her ear from behind her, barely concealing his own smile at their sleeping beauty finally waking. She turned to face him, smiling even wider as she received the gentlest wake-up call she’d ever received in her life, the both of them working to coax the sleepiness out of her with tender kisses and caresses.

“What do you want to do today?” Sebastian asked, intertwining his fingers with hers and brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “It snowed a mountainload last night, we could go sledding.” He leaned in close, his voice hushed in her ear. “And team up to pummel Ominis with snowballs.”

She grinned at the suggestion, but Ominis beside her looked far from amused. “I’m blind, not deaf.” He scorned before inevitably breaking into his own smile. “We’ll have some breakfast and open presents first.” 

“I haven’t gotten you gifts.” She gasped, frowning at the realization.

“How despicable,” Sebastian teased, feigning great offense. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas of how you can make it up to us.”

Ominis rolled his eyes, restraining himself from hitting the brunette on such a holiday. “You’re already our gift.” He placed a kiss to her forehead reassuringly. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” 

She smiled affectionately at the blonde, wondering how she managed to get so lucky. They made her feel so warm and syrupy inside, like she might drown in how much love they showered her in. They had always cared for her throughout their friendship, but this kind of doting was on another level. Sebastian placed kisses to the knuckles of each one of her fingers, admiring how small her hands looked in his and she felt Ominis’ hand splayed over her waist, big and warm over her skin, his thumb rubbing soft patterns on her hipbone. 

She wanted to reciprocate this kindness. Wanted to make them feel just as adored as she felt, wanted to worship their skin the way they worshiped hers all of last night and this morning. They were both still clothed on either side of her, while she was naked under the sheets wrapped around her, a realization that sparked her determination even more. 

She leaned into Ominis, her lips pressing against his. He melted into the kiss with little resistance, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. He smiled in amusement against her lips when he noticed her fingers coming up to work at the buttons of his shirt. “What are you doing, darling?”

“I wanted to…make you feel good.” 

“You already make me feel good.” He stilled her hand, placing a kiss to the inside of her palm. “You don’t have to do a thing.”

She frowned and Sebastian noticed her disappointment, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “He’s saying this now, but if you move those little hands of yours a bit more south, what do you think you’d find?” Sebastian instigated, letting go of her hand that was still tucked in his and coaxing her to touch him. 

She trailed her hand down over the blonde’s chest slowly, feeling the ridges and taut muscles defined beneath his shirt. He opened his mouth to protest yet again, but as soon as she reached the front of his trousers, it was as if he had lost the ability to speak. She was surprised to find him so achingly hard already, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. 

“He’s been running his hands over you all morning while you slept,” Sebastian informed in another whisper against her ear. “He’s just too shy to ask for what he wants.”

She smiled to herself at this revelation, unsteady fingers tracing over the stiff length in his trousers, exploring him gently. She had felt how big he was pressed behind her, but pressed against the palm of her hand he felt even thicker.

“You really don’t have to— Gods,” Ominis groaned at the touch, his eyelids fluttering and his resolve faltering, his hips instinctively coming up to meet her touch. Her eyes were fixed on his face as she palmed him through the fabric, on all his reactions. On the way his cheeks tinged pink and how easily he unraveled with just the lightest of touches. He was clearly very pent-up from not getting any release last night and she craved desperately to give him that relief.

“You can touch him more, it’s alright.” Sebastian continued his encouragements, just as enraptured by the sight in front of him as she was. She was nervous about how she should touch him, if she was doing any of it right. Sebastian noticed her apprehensiveness, taking her hand in his and guiding it to the button of Ominis’ trousers, coaxing her to take him out. “It won’t bite, I promise.” He chuckled.

She fumbled with the buttons before finally getting it open and Ominis’ breath hitched in his throat at the action. Sebastian dipped her hand inside slowly and she was surprised to find how warm he was to the touch, a bead of precum making her fingers sticky when she ran a thumb over his head. 

“ Oh — t-that’s,” Ominis keened at the touch, his lips parting at the sensation of her fingers wrapping around him, stroking him ever-so softly. She looked up at him through her lashes, enamored by the sight in front of her, how he seemed to melt in her hand.

She couldn’t help but admire with great adoration how pretty he looked, his features pinched in pleasure, when she barely had even touched him. Sebastian couldn’t help but admire how pretty the both of them looked, his eyes fixed on their expressions as she slowly got the hang of pleasuring him. He watched with a soft smile on his face as her wrist moved up and down on his length, her little fingers struggling to even wrap all the way around him. He was already painfully hard from just watching and found himself rubbing against her from behind, his erection pressed against the small of her back.

“You’re doing so well,” Sebastian murmured in her ear. “Look how good you’re making him feel. Such a good girl, touching him like that.” She felt her cheeks warm from the praise, a bit ashamed to admit just how great of an effect his words had on the heat between her thighs. 

Sebastian slipped his hand over her front, his fingers stretching over the flat plane of her stomach. Her breath hitched from the contact and he took it as his cue to touch her more, caressing her soft skin and gliding his hand lower. She bucked up against him when he finally dipped between her thighs, running his fingers softly through her folds. “ Fuck , you’re such a mess. You like touching him that much, is that it? Is that what’s gotten you like this?”

She nodded unabashedly, trying to bite back her moans as Sebastian toyed lazily with her most sensitive parts, smiling to himself at the way she squirmed against him, rubbing herself on his erection. She tried to continue to stroke Ominis, but Sebastian was making a distracted mess out of her, leaving the blonde to buck his hips desperately into her hand.

“So perfect, you’re so— so soft,” Ominis panted mindlessly under his breath, his head clouded with pleasure. She liked seeing him like this, such a stark contrast to his normally orderly and put-together manner. He was usually so restrained, yet here he was, falling apart for her. He pressed kisses to her throat and continued to search for friction against her palm, rutting against her like an animal in heat. “Gods, I want to fill you.”

“I-I want that,” She breathed out, Sebastian’s hand between her thighs only adding to her growing desire to have Ominis stretching her open. 

“You like the sound of that, huh?” Sebastian asked in her ear. “You want him buried right in here?” His fingers traced over her entrance with feather-light touches, teasing her. “Poor thing, would you even be able to fit all of him?” He doted, the slightest hint of taunting in his voice that made her grow even needier.

“It’ll fit,” She nodded, an array of pleas falling from her lips. Ominis cursed under his breath at her begging, his self-restraint wearing thin. If he had to listen to her pleas in his ear and stroke him so deliciously for any longer, he would surely snap. His cock twitched in her hand at the thought of burying himself inside of her, of feeling her tight, little walls squeeze around him. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, his hand wrapping around her wrist to still her movements. “We—we can wait, I promise I won’t mind.”

“I’m sure. Please , Ominis.” 

Ominis captured her lips in his, passionate and intense to the point it made her head dizzy. She could tell he was just as needy as her, could taste the desperation on his tongue while he explored her mouth. He rose from where he was laying beside her, settling in between her legs. She could feel him throbbing from where they were pressed together at the hips and she whined from the sensation. She watched as he slipped his shirt from his shoulders, tugging his trousers down to his knees and rocking his hips slowly against hers, reveling in how warm and slick she was.

Sebastian grabbed his wand from the bedside table, muttering a contraceptive charm over her lower stomach. He brushed her hair back from her face and shoulders, collecting it in his hand and placing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. Her shoulders were strung up with nervous anticipation and Sebastian rubbed at them, easing her anxieties. “Just relax, princess. He’ll be gentle. Won’t you, Ominis?”

“Of course,” Ominis leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips moving slow and tender against hers to soothe her worries. His forearm rested beside her head as he lowered himself over her, his other hand on his cock, rubbing himself against her slit, collecting her wetness. “Do you realize how precious you are to me?” He whispered against her lips. “My little angel.”

She keened at the term of endearment, her hips bucking up against his, desperate for more friction. She whined against his mouth and he stilled her with a steady hand on her waist, pressing her down to the mattress. “Patience.” He calmed her, slipping two fingers between her thighs to press against her entrance. “Need to work you open first, princess, understand?”

She nodded, breaking into a moan at the feeling of him pushing inside, his fingers stretching her deliciously and making her clench around him. He worked slowly in and out of her, making her whine for more. 

Ominis appeased her begging with another soft kiss, pulling his fingers out and making her whimper with how empty she felt. He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, pressing ever so gently against her entrance. “You tell me if I hurt you.”

She nodded and Ominis dipped his head to rest against her forehead. He panted against her mouth as he slowly began to press inside her, his hips moving to meet hers slowly. Her head fell back against the pillow at the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands coming up to cling to his arms on either side of her, her nails leaving little crescent moon imprints on the skin of his biceps.

Sebastian’s hand slipped behind her neck, tilting her head up off the pillow and pressing reassuring kisses to her temple. “Watch, baby.” He ordered softly. “Open your eyes. Look at him stretching your pretty little cunt out.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze falling to where their hips were joined, to the sight of Ominis slowly easing himself inside of her. His hand splayed along her hip to keep her steady, attempting to adjust to the sensation of her walls squeezing around him.

“That’s it, good girl.” Sebastian praised, smiling softly at her. “Look so pretty like this. Gorgeous.” 

“So perfect,” Ominis groaned through gritted teeth when he finally bottomed out inside of her, his hips stilling as he panted. He dipped his head to kiss along her collarbone, trailing his lips along the column of her throat soothingly. “Does this feel okay, love? Am I hurting you?” 

She shook her head, her legs wrapping around him to pull him in even deeper. “More…please.”

He eased his hips back slowly, sinking them back flush against her once again, careful to let her adjust to his size— to let himself adjust as well. “Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, his fingers digging into her hips. “You’re going to kill me, darling— fuck , squeezing this tight around me.” He breathed out, kissing her shoulder.

“Fuck her properly, Ominis.” Sebastian remarked beside them, growing impatient. He knew Ominis would take his time with her, but he could see she was getting appetent for more as well. He wanted to watch her eyes roll to the back of her head, wanted to see her squirm underneath him, just how he’d seen last night. “She can take it.”

Ominis couldn’t help but oblige, his own self-control wearing thin. As much as he would be willing to fuck her achingly slow, to roll his hips against hers for hours, he knew that’s what neither of them needed right now. There was too much pent-up desire, desperation filling them both to the brim. His lips hovered over hers when he finally eased his hips back and thrust in harsher this time, reveling in the way she gasped in his mouth.

He slipped a hand under one of her thighs, pushing her leg back until her knee was pressed against her chest so he could get a deeper angle. “Oh my God ,” she moaned at the feeling of him pushing up against her walls, hitting a particularly sensitive spot over and over again that made her toes curl against his hips. “Ominis, Christ , you’re — f-fuck.” Her words grew incoherent, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time, feeling him so deep inside her. 

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” He hushed her with a soothing kiss. His hips pressed flush against hers with every deep thrust, her nails raking up and down his skin. He couldn’t help but settle into a merciless pace, pulling all kinds of pleas from her throat. She felt far too good for him to even attempt to hold himself back.

“My little angel. Making the prettiest noises for me. Fuck , gonna make you cum all over my cock.” He pushed her other thigh up against her chest, deepening his strokes, insatiable. She choked on her moans, overwhelmed by the sensations, yet begged him not to step. “ Gods yes , fucking take it.” He grunted and she felt a warmth course through her at the sound of Ominis being so lewd, at him murmuring all kinds of filth into her ear that she would never have imagined coming from him.

“Fucking look at you,” Sebastian commented, enamored by how beautiful she looked like this, his eyes glued to where their hips were joined and Ominis was pumping in and out of her. He had freed himself from his trousers some time ago, stroking slowly up and down his shaft at the sight. “Prettiest baby, taking his cock so well. Fucking gorgeous.”

Sebastian stopped stroking himself to lean in and dip his hand between her thighs, quickly finding her sensitive clit to rub tight, little circles while Ominis continued to pound into her. Her head fell back against the pillow from the pleasure, her lips parted. 

Sebastian took the opportunity to tilt her chin towards him with his other hand, taking her lips in his and swallowing every pretty moan she let out. “So beautiful,” He murmured, wanting to drown in the feeling of her lips. “Our pretty baby. All ours, huh?”

She nodded frantically, feeling the coil of tension inside her wind tighter and tighter until she was ready to burst. Ominis’ hands found purchase on her waist, his fingers digging roughly into her to pull her down harder against his hips. He was voracious, and the feeling of her clenching around him when she finally reached her peak brought on his own orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He groaned as he spilled inside her, thrusting a few more times with each spurt of cum. His forehead fell against hers, breath coming out in hot, heavy pants against her mouth. “So perfect, gods, gonna— gonna marry you.” He murmured, delirious from pleasure and the endorphins following his orgasm. He kissed her lazily, delighting himself with the way she was smiling saplessly against his lips, absolutely euphoric. He smothered kisses all over her sweat-damp face, coaxing syrupy giggles out of her that made his heart leap in his chest. 

Sebastian kissed her temple after Ominis finally slid out of her, shifting off her to lay beside her. “Don’t mind him, he gets sentimental when he cums.” Sebastian teased, chuckling.

“Oh, you’re one to talk.” Ominis rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sentimental all the time,” Sebastian retorted with a smug smile, tilting her head towards him to plant tender kisses on her lips while she was still recovering from her orgasm. “Everyone knows I’m a romantic.”

She sighed against his lips, leaning into him. He couldn’t help but take advantage of her in this limp, drowsy state, pulling her leg over his waist and then tugging the rest of her body towards him. She let out a little yelp and he nearly melted, utterly infatuated with the woman in his arms and the soft, pleasure-drunk smile on her face. 

“You’re going to ruin the poor girl, Sebastian.” Ominis muttered beside the two, turning to face them. “Let her rest.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You hear that, Ominis?” Sebastian grinned, a mixture of satisfaction and pride in his eyes as he looked down at her. “She doesn’t mind.”

“You’re going to be sore, you little nymph.” Ominis retorted sternly, leaning in to place kisses on her bare shoulders.

“Good thing I have the both of you to take care of me.”

“That’s right.” He kissed her flushed cheeks, enamored by how pretty she looked so freshly fucked-out. “Always.” His hands ran affectionately over her back, tracing little patterns over the ridges of her spine. “Can I take care of you right now?”

She nodded, smiling against his lips, half-convinced she had lost the ability to say no to anything that came out of these boys’ mouths.

“On your tummy, love.” Sebastian murmured and she obliged immediately, sliding off his chest to lay on her stomach. She sighed against the soft duvet as Sebastian rearranged her to his pleasing, her limbs still soft and languid. He lifted her hips with an arm under her waist, slipping a pillow beneath her to prop her up. He towered over her, his hands running down her sides and massaging at her shoulders. 

“Gorgeous,” He said under his breath, hands kneading her soft flesh, running down her sides. Her hips squirmed back against him and she could feel how hard he was when she pressed against his clothed erection, his trousers rubbing against her bare skin. He chuckled, placing an appeasing kiss between her shoulder blades. “Always so needy.”

She heard the tell-tale sound of clothes ruffling behind her, the pull of fabric against her skin as he pulled down his trousers, slow and deliberate, as if he knew what he was doing to her. Her fingers tightened in a little fist around the sheets when she finally felt him pressed against her, warm and throbbing against her ass. She squirmed back against him and he stilled her eagerness with a firm hand on her hip, pressing her against the mattress. 

“ Please , Sebastian.”

At the first sound of pleading Ominis had crawled over to her, laying down beside where she had her cheek pressed against the covers. He tilted her head towards him, feeling her needy little pants against his lips as Sebastian rubbed himself against her wet core. “Patience, darling.” 

Ominis captured her lips in his, deepening the kiss when Sebastian finally pushed into her, delighting himself with the desperate little moan that escaped from the back of her throat, swallowing her gasp. “ Oh, god ,” She murmured against his lips, struggling to adjust to the feeling of Sebastian stretching her out.

“ Fuck ,” Sebastian cursed under his breath, eyes glued to where he was disappearing inside of her. His hands tightened around where he was holding onto her hips, his lips parting at the sensation of her warm walls enveloping him. “Fucking heavenly.”

She wriggled back against him, desperate for more, desperate to feel him push rough and fast against her, into that one little spot that made her stomach clench and her toes curl. Sebastian huffed out a laugh at her impatience, a hand splaying over the small of her back as he eased his hips back. He brought them back against her with a firmness that pulled a little gasp out of her lips, her fingers curling even tighter into the linen sheets beneath her.

“Feel good, darling?” Ominis murmured against her ear, placing a tender kiss to her hairline. “You like him fucking my cum back into you, hm?” A pathetic moan slipped from her at his words, filthy and desperate. She nodded frantically, unashamed.

“Fucking filthy,” Sebastian groaned, his forehead resting against her shoulderblades, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses against her skin as if in worship. His thrusts became more firm as he lost himself in the feeling of her, her entire body jolting with each press of his hips against hers. “So desperate to be filled. You want my cum in this little cunt too? Is that it, baby?”

“Please, yes ,” She keened, lips parted at the sensation of Sebastian pounding into her, pressing relentlessly against that spot of hers, as if he’d memorized her body from watching Ominis fuck her and knew exactly what would ruin her. 

Ominis pressed his lips to hers again, wanting to feel every little moan that Sebastian pulled from her lips, wanting to feel her breath hot and heavy against his mouth. He delighted himself with the way she struggled to kiss him back properly and stole kisses from her anyways, his hands cupping her cheeks as she was turned into a pathetic mess. He brushed her hair back from where it was falling over her face, collecting it into a fist behind her head and brushing his lips over her cheeks, her jaw, anywhere he could access.

“ S o—so good, feels so good,” She mumbled, pleasure-drunk and overwhelmed by how full she felt, by the feeling of Sebastian angling into that sensitive little spot in her walls that made her sob against Ominis’ lips. She buried her face against his shoulder, feeling her orgasm so close, dangling on the precipice. 

“You make such pretty noises, you know that? You’re doing so well, darling, making us so proud.” Ominis praised, tugging her head back with his fingers still tangled in her hair so she couldn’t hide, so he could kiss her even when she felt too fucked-out to kiss him back. “Our perfect little angel.”

The coil of tension building in her stomach snapped with Ominis’ praise, her entire body shuddering with her orgasm. Sebastian pressed her even harder into the mattress as he fucked her through her climax, chasing his own release. 

He came inside her with her name spilling from his lips in a groan, placing kisses in adoration on her shoulders while they both panted and came down from their high. He was euphoric, feeling her tighten around him, feeling her little trembles from the aftershocks. 

He scooped her up into his arms, chuckling at how her head fell onto his shoulder, limp and loose like she was on the brink of sleep. “We’ve killed her,” He chuckled, placing a kiss to her sweat-damp cheeks, nipping just under her jaw. She giggled from the bite, lazy and syrupy, feeling like a pat of butter on a stack of fluffy, warm pancakes. Her head was dizzy from the endorphins and she let Sebastian arrange her however he wanted, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“How tragic,” Ominis teased from beside them, sitting up from his place on the bed. He slipped on his shirt, buttoning it and adjusting the rest of his frumpled attire. “You grab her arms and I’ll grab her legs, I know where we can dispose of the body.” Ominis pulled her towards him by the ankles, ignoring her giggles and protests as both boys picked her up and dragged her off to the bathroom.

Ominis set her down on her feet while Sebastian ran the faucet of the bathtub for her, dipping his hand in the water to test the temperature. “Go on, in the tub.” 

“Is this your way of saying I stink?” She narrowed her eyes. 

He responded by pressing his face against her while she giggled and pushed him away, holding her to him and nosing her skin, inhaling when he got to the crook of her neck. “Oh yes, repulsive.” He rolled his eyes. “Just get in the tub, you little brat.” 

“Fine,” She obliged, sinking into the warm water while Sebastian knelt beside her, pouring lavender-scented soap and producing a nice lather. “Then after we can go outside and pummel Ominis with snowballs?” She asked in a whisper, biting back a grin. 

“I heard that!”

#ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy garreth #ominis x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x sebastian x mc #ominis x sebastian x reader

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

22. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽

Dorian's velvety croon filled the room as the girl's eyes fluttered open, a testament to the success of his work. With grace, Dorian ran his fingers through her hair, an almost paternal gesture with an undercurrent of possessiveness. She appeared disoriented yet curiously aware of everything surrounding her. 

In a ritualistic display, Dorian's sharp fangs pierced his own forearm, crimson droplets welling up and rolling down his arm. The scent, intoxicating and thick, traveled through the room, luring the fledgling. The girl, smart child that she was, picked up on the scent in no time. A swift realization flashed across her eyes, and she keenly picked up on the aroma.

The offered forearm hovered near her mouth, and Dorian's honeyed voice encouraged her, "Drink." The fledgling, displaying an instinctive hunger, moved to partake almost savagely, but Dorian intervened with a gentle touch. He held her jaw delicately, his fingers grazing her cold skin. "Use your fangs, doll. Show me your little fangs."

The girl, her newly formed canines revealed, elicited a proud smile from Dorian. With approval granted, she sank her fangs into his flesh. She drank with a fervor, as if trying to quench a centuries-long thirst in mere moments. The room resonated with the sound of her eager feeding.

Eventually, Dorian, the indulgent sire, halted her actions. "That is enough," he whispered, and she whimpered, a primitive plea for more escaping her lips. With a reassuring shake of his head, he spoke softly, "I know, I know, you're thirsty. You shall have more later." 

As much as she wanted. He was her sire, her creator, and her provider. He would ensure she lacked nothing. He wouldn’t leave her and, in return, she would stay by his side. He was her caretaker. ☾ Gradually (Y/n)'s reason took back control over her instincts. Her memories were hazy, as if a fog were enveloping them, but the panic and fear she had felt before still remained. She recognized the two men in the room. Recognizing the two men present, the sentiments of transformation and of an existence forced upon her hung heavy in the air.

"Killian.. Stay.." Desperation tinged her whimper as she reached out to Killian. She sought solace in the man she knew, yearning for his presence as a shield against the monster who had inflicted this vampiric fate upon her. This man had tried to protect her against the one who turned her. She felt safer with him. 

She observed the man's hesitation, her eyes filled with a profound sense of hope and despair intertwined. His gaze held a tempest of emotions, reflecting the inner conflict he, too, experienced.

Dorian, now the creator of her newfound existence, leaned in, a calming presence amidst the chaos soothing her whimpers with a gentle, almost hypnotic murmur. Safe. "Oh, he won't leave, darling." His words cut through the uncertainty with a promise. "He may have contemplated leaving, but that's in the past now. He shall stay, and he shall stay for you." ☾ She remained oblivious to the sly, dark smile Dorian gave to the other vampire — a subtle pact woven between them, one party more willing than the other.

Reluctantly, Killian approached the girl, a silent turmoil raging within him. Dorian released his hold on her, allowing her to find solace in the arms of his companion. As Killian tenderly stroked her hair, a tide of resentment surged within him. The venom in his voice was palpable as he muttered, words laden with scorn, "You are truly deplorable."

The words danced in the air for an instant, carrying with them years of resentment. The surroundings whispered tales of lives lived, choices made, and the eternal struggle between what once had been and what remained now.

Dorian smiled faintly. His eyes were wet and he leaned on his shoulder. “I know,” he whispered, his words feeling heavy in the room. “Anything for my family. My coven.”

The blond’s arms locked around Killian and he could feel the other’s tremors. "I love you so much,” he muttered, almost inaudibly, "I love the both of you so much." He repeated the statement like an endless mantra. 

Killian remained quiet, with the youngling resting on his chest and the other vampire leaning on his shoulders.

A part of him realized they could all leave. Windows were open; doors were unlocked. Walking out was easy. Just as it had always been.

"We have a daughter, Killian," he continued on. Killian suddenly felt a wetness on his shoulder. "You wouldn't leave her behind, would you? Please… She needs me, and — and I need the both of you."

He drew in a shuddering breath, the blond’s voice, his words, his touch… All of that was so suffocating. He felt caged. Not physically, no; his prison was of another kind. He would have liked to say Fate had intricately woven and meticulously pulled the threads of their lives until they were inevitably entwined. That description would have sounded poetic, or perhaps even romantic in a twisted way. Yet, even that was false, wasn’t it? Tthe truth was often less fanciful.

They were trapped.

Trapped in a tragedy of their own making.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #toxic relationship #abusiveness #Our girl seems to be unhealing :) #tw abuse #Killian aint ok guys #dorian isnt ok #but is that really an excuse ? #manipulation

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Remus Lupin x fem!reader [2K] protective!you, soft!Remus

Honestly, Remus should’ve seen it coming. You were never one to back down from a fight and the whole reason he was missing from class that day was the same grounds for your eventual argument. 

Professor Marigold had spent the best part of Care of Magical Creatures explaining moon phases and the effects each stage had on lycanthropes. You had been sitting between James and Sirius, squished in the middle as they doodled on their book margins, not really listening. Because, well, they’d had some first hand experience, hadn’t they? Which is why the professor was so surprised when she called on Sirius and he answered correctly, barely looking up. 

You were more on edge than the boys, wishing you’d skipped with Remus, wondering if he would’ve let you hide out in the boys dorm with him, sharing James’ hidden stash of Honeydukes loot everyone knew he kept at the bottom of his trunk. You spent most of the class eyeing your fellow students, Gryffindors and Slytherins divided in rows of three, sometimes four, a neat separation of red and gold, green and silver. 

You wondered if someone would say something, you wondered if someone would sneer, if they’d pull a face at the sketching of a werewolf in the textbook, if they’d shudder in fear or say something awful. It was silent as Professor Marigold spoke about the ramifications of being bitten, the changes the host went through each lunar cycle. You hated the word, ‘host’. It sat bitterly at the back of your throat and you changed it to ‘person’ when scribbling down your notes, more messily than you’d usually be. 

You felt Sirius watch you, dark gaze lingering on the way you sat up too straight, how your shoulders were tense and unyielding when he brushed against your own. If the boys shared a look over your head, well, you didn’t notice. 

Class was almost over, in fact, you were only mere minutes away from the finish line. But then a Slytherin you didn’t know the name of narrowed her eyes and said something you only just heard, a scorned hiss of:

“…the Ministry should do something about them. They’re a danger to everyone. Full moon or not.”

James’ hand found your knee before you could stand, nostrils flaring and heart pounding, but his touch kept you in your seat. You stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm but he merely shook his head, subtle and soft. Knowing. 

“S’not the place,” he whispered, still bent over his own notes. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, sweetheart.”

Then class ended and it was fine until it wasn’t. 

The same Slytherin student was lagging behind you as you all made your way back to the castle, morning dew dampening your ankles as you all took a shortcut over the grass. Sirius was singing a song you didn’t know under his breath, James was still trying to stuff his book into his bag and the girl behind you was too fucking loud. You heard the way she gasped and cried out, all horrible dramatics as her and her friend spoke about the recent class subject. 

“I mean, really,” she intoned, walking closer and closer. “It’s not like they can live normal lives, can they? They’re practically monsters, I don’t see why they’re allowed to walk around freely like they have the same rights as—”

You spun, wand drawn, clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist that you barely managed to keep lowered by your side. 

“Well, that actually took longer than I thought,” Sirius mused quietly, stopping beside you with one arm across your chest, holding you back from making any other unwise decisions. “Settle yourself, darling.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you ignored the boy and spoke to the girl, brows stitched together as you tried to work out if you were going to cry or yell. Maybe both, perhaps at the same time - your chest was burning, a sickly kind of anger lingering in your stomach, rolling over and over until it simmered into a rage. The girl hadn’t said Remus’ name, but she might as well have. “You sound so— so ignorant! Have you ever met someone who has to go through something like that? Don’t you understand they’re just like us?”

The girl, Tabitha, maybe, you still weren’t really sure, blanched, staring at you as if you’d dropped from the sky. “What on Earth do you mean?” She laughed and it was a nasty sound, scathing and condescending. “Like us? Are you joking? They’re wild animals, they should be hunted down as such.”

James snatched your wand before you could lift it, red and orange sparks flying into the grass instead of the air and you scowled at him. He grimaced, hardly apologetic but Sirius soon stood between you both, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“Let’s go,” he told you, a gentle command, his hands on your shoulders. “She’s not worth it. Moony’s waiting, c’mon.”

That should’ve been it. The idea of Remus waiting for the three of you at the library should’ve been enough to make your legs work again and pull you away. But the girl was still laughing, an ugly noise, one that made your jaw tick. Sirius tugged at you, hands dropping to curl around an elbow and you took a step, just one. 

“Honestly, if I ever found out I’d shared the same air as one of those creatures, I’d have daddy on the phone to Dumbledore. One curse to the head is all it should ta—”

You ripped yourself from Sirius’ arms quicker than he could grab you, ready to throw your first into the girl’s face - her nose, if you could get your aim right. You watched as she paled, her footsteps fumbling as she backed away faster than you could catch up, all whilst your friends yelled your name from behind you.   

And then, an arm, needling around your waist to haul you up and backwards against a very solid chest. You squirmed, face scrunched in anger, cheeks aflame. 

“Hey, at ease solider, c’mon now.”

Remus. 

You deflated, breathe leaving you in a sigh, knowing that there wasn’t much point in trying to wrestle your way out of his grip. Your feet were dangling a good eight inches off the ground and Remus dropped his mouth to your ear, his voice soft. 

“Leave it, yeah?” 

You nodded, barely perceptible but Remus saw. You saw Sirius take a step towards the girl, eyes narrowed. He looked roguish and dangerous as always, and when he stepped forward once more, this time uttering a soft “boo,” the two girls took off without another word. 

Your wand was given back to you once they were deemed out of sight, your feet firmly back on the ground but Remus kept hand at your lower back, fingers lingering in your sweater, a reminder that he was close. 

“What was your plan, huh?” James’ asked, still wide eyed and surprised that you’d reacted in such a way. “Knock her out with just your fists?”

You rolled your eyes and started back to the castle, embarrassed at being seen having such a response to what was no more than some uneducated - albeit cruel - words. “Yeah, and what about it?” You sounded sullen, a little moody. “I can throw a punch as well as I can cast a hex, Potter.”

Sirius puffed out his chest, smirking. “I taught her.”

James scoffed, muttering something that sounded like, “was that really necessary?”

“What? D’you think she’ll always have her wand on her? What if she doesn’t, what then—”

Remus’ hand, warm and large, caught your own, keeping you from following the other boys and their conversation. He was frowning a little, brows knitted despite the way he was pressing his lips together, as if to hide a smile. He ducked his chin to meet your gaze, too tall otherwise, fingers twisting between your own. 

“What was that all about?” He murmured and his voice was low, pretty and raspy. “Huh?”

You sniffed, emotions catching up to you as the adrenaline faded and you toed at the grass, Mary Janes digging into the wet weeds. You tried to look away, somewhat embarrassed but Remus caught your chin with nimble fingers, scarred and calloused and entirely too lovely. His thumb tapped the space just below your mouth and he waited, quiet and patient. 

You shrugged. “That girl.” You nodded to the Slytherins retreating figure, glaring when she stared back at you from the safety of the castle steps. “Tabitha? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. She was talking about—” you almost said ‘you,’ but that wasn’t true. She hadn’t spoken about Remus at all. How could she? She didn’t know. 

Remus waited, brows raised, his hand still on your jaw to keep your gaze on him. His touch was soft, more gentle than it needed to be and it made any explanation you wanted to give him a little harder to piece together. 

“Professor Marigold spoke about lunar cycles today,” you swallowed and Remus nodded. He knew this, of course he did. It’s why he spent that hour in his dorm, pretending to be sick. “That girl. Whatever her name is, she started going on about how, how werewolves shouldn’t be allowed to have the same rights as Witches and Wizards, how they should all be—” 

You stared at the boy, lips pressed together, deciding you didn’t want to explain anymore. The bitter feeling in your stomach was still bubbling, acidic and awful, but Remus dropped his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you into him and it settled, if only slightly. 

He was too tall, his half hug had you face first into his chest, his school sweater smelling like laundry detergent and a little smoke, something sage and citrus that was seemingly just Remus. You clung to him, hands fisting in the familiar grey wool, your lip wobbling against the fabric because it was all suddenly a little too much. Remus rested his chin atop your head, his nose pushed into your hair when he felt your shoulders shake. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Remus whispered, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter, hand travelling upupup until he could pull you closer still by your shoulders. “S’fine, really. I’m used to hearing shit like that.”

His reasoning only made your chest feel tighter and your breath shuddered. “That’s worse, Remus!” You intoned, speaking into his chest. “She was saying vile things, absolutely awful stuff and it’s just not—”

“Fair?” The boy mused, his lips brushing over your hairline. You wondered if Sirius and James had stopped to wait for you both, you wondered if they could see, if they were watching. You found you didn’t care. “The world isn’t fair, love, m’sorry to break it to you. But I’ll survive, no matter what Tabitha Rosethorne says.”

You leaned back, just enough to rest your chin on the boy’s chest, pouting as you gazed up at him, glassy eyed. Remus prodded at your cheek, brushing away one lone tear that had managed to escape out of anger. “She’s a dick,” you mumbled woefully. 

Remus snorted, nodding. He wasn’t used to you using such language, only giving him and the others in trouble for it. “She is a dick, you’re right,” he agreed. “But she’s not worth getting detention for. Were you really going to punch her?”

“I was going to try,” you enthused, flushing at the idea of starting an actual fight, completely wandless. “Sirius told me to keep my thumb on the outside of my fist.”

“Of course he did,” Remus mused, sounding unimpressed. “You shouldn’t be starting fights, you know, you’re too lovely for that. Especially on my behalf.”

Normally you would’ve preened at Remus’ sweet words, his soft compliments, but you were scowling, a full pout on your lips as you shook your head. Remus looked amused, knowing that expression all too well. 

Stubborn. 

“I’ll start fights, only for you,” you corrected him, not leaving much room for argument. “And Sirius will back me up. And more than likely, James too. Once he stops arguing.”

The boy laughed, a bright, sharp sound that had your frown fading quickly. You grinned up at him, smile growing wider when he squeezed at your shoulder and let his nose nudge against your warm cheek. 

“You’re not wrong,” he murmured. Remus kept you tucked under his arm as he lead you back up the grassy knoll, towards James and Sirius who were pretending they hadn’t been watching you both the entire time. “C’mon, hotshot, the library awaits.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin drabble #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #marauder's era #marauders x you

[whore-ibly-hot]

UGHHHH I THINK JOEY IS THE LITERAL VILLAGE DARLING AND HEART THROB!!!

i think almost every girl in the village wants him and gets love struck when he's around. a lot of parents introduce their daughters to him but he just simply and politely rejects them. he is always watched by village girls while he's doing work. he even gets gifts, but he just simply can't accept. i think that he's the youngest and most desired McCall since he's not married yet and is extremely youthful and handsome. every grandparents thinks he's cute and he's always polite to elderlies and often gets bread or fruit. a lot of young men gets pretty jealous to joey too.

plus, i think a lot of redneck girls get pretty jealous of the reader since he's only paying attention to her. they're also angry too since, how dare she be mean to sweet boy Joey?!

i also headcannon reader, to having really dark, silky, black hair. i think it's one of the reasons why Joey got attracted to her, maybe because she's different? i also think that she has pretty close genetics to the town people since one of the parents may come from the village, but i think the other parent is another descent, maybe her father is asian? im not entirely sure, and that's just my headcannon. but of course this is different for everybody's taste, it's just mine!

anyways, i love your writing and you are now one of my favorite authors here on tumblr! i hope the best for you author-chan!

~ 🩷

I don't ever apply headcanons to the readers physical attributes, but Joey would definitely like a reader with attributes not found in his town. The poor boy would definitely look up ways he could compliment you without seeming like he was fetishing you.

One misconception is that Joey is the youngest overall! His family has 6 kids, two older boys and one older daughter, then Joey (the youngest boy), then two younger girls.

The townsfolk only know of reader because of what Joey has said, so while the adults think it's cute there together, the girls and boys in town do not think so. It doesn't help that they have probably had first hand experience with pur readers bitchy behavior. They had better hope that Jory doesn't catch wind of any rumors being spread about his baby, because any girl or boy caught talking like that are in for a grounding, or scorn by the town and church until they apologize for spreading 'contemptuous rumors and slander', as the priest would say.

(Thank you some much for the compliment, I really enjoy writing here!)

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #oc joey #yandere farmboy #yandere farmer #ask me stuff

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: because men need to be more vocal.

Warnings: smut.

————

The air in the room was hot. Matty’s skin felt hot like fire. His hair cascaded around his face, the curls stretching, like a spring, heavy with beads of sweat and dripping onto his body. The only sounds they made were Matty’s cuffed wrists pulling against the headboard, and the wet, filthy clicking sound of her hand, pumping his lubed up cock, working every ridge and inch of skin, watching him with greedy eyes as wave after wave of pleasure hit him.

Matty leaned backwards, resting his head against the headboard. His face and neck flushed, he breathed rapidly. He jolted, startled by the sudden gentle touch of her hand when she placed it over his taut abs; she simply wanted to feel him clench and tighten whenever she edged and denied him another orgasm, smiling to herself when she felt his body contract under her hand.

Matty whispered a strangled “please” that felt like it was ripped from the back of his throat.

“What was that, honey?” Feigning ignorance, she instantly let go of him, watching as his dick twitched against his stomach, his toes curling, his pretty, pink lips swollen. He managed to hold off on cumming, but the pain was agonizing.

He whined pathetically, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the worst of the pain to subside.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She smiled, a hint of scorn in her voice.

Matty looked up at her, wide-eyed, thought it could’ve simply been his dismayed pupils. “Need to- to cum.”

She leaned closer, propped up with her hands on either side of him. “Then beg.”

“Please” Matty blurted out almost reflexively.

She sighed dramatically in mock-relief, shaking her head. “Oh, Matty. You don’t get it do you.”

He felt her hand wrap around him again causing him to jump, and yank on his restraints.

“Holy- fuck! Ow.”

Her hand picked up its pace, and so did Matty’s breathing.

“I want to hear you, Matty. I want you to make me believe that you really needed it. This mousy whispering? Not gonna get you anywhere tonight.”

“Wha-what do you- fuck! Ah!- what do you mean?”

“Matty, baby, I don’t think you realize-“

“Ah- okay- stop stop stop! IM gonna cum.”

She moved withdrew her hand just in time. “I don’t think you realize how hot your moans are.”

Matty’s eyes widened. He was sure that if his face weren’t already flushed, he’d be blushing right now.

“When you call out my name? When you feel so good that you’re moaning into my ear?” She decided he’d had enough of a break and resumed her torturous edging. “The pretty noises that you make? The sound of your voice?”

“Ahhha- please- darling, I’m so close it won’t take much…”

“Tell me how good I make you feel. Make me hear it. And if you do a good enough job, maybe I’ll let you cum.” She gave him a quick peck. “Here I’ll even help you along.” She tugged on him gently.

“Fuckkk!!” Matty cried out, the veins of his neck visible.

“That’s it, honey. Go on…”

He swallowed harshly. “Uhhh…p-please, babe, please. I- I need it. Please let me cum? Hmm? It’s - it’s just- hurts so good. And I’m so, fuckin sensitive. I- can’t. You feel so good. You-“ Matty could no longer remember what he’d intended to say, nor would he be able to say it even if he did. She’d reduced him to a string of incoherent moans and broken pleas. He writhed, his cuffs rattling, every curve and crevice of his sculpted body tensing; his inked skin glistening with sweat.

“Ple- ohhhh, fuck! Fuck! Shit!— please” he yelled out.

“Music to my ears.” She smiled. “Go on, Matty. Cum for me.”

“Really?” The shock in his eyes was endearing. “Yes, baby, really. Go ahead, let go.”

“Ohhh thank you- thank-“ before the word was out of his mouth, his orgasm hit him, and he felt it from his head to his toes.

She watched, in awe, her lips slightly parted as his legs shook and he made the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard before his body had finally had enough, and went limp against the bed.

“My love.” She kissed his damp forehead. “Did so good.”

“Yeah? I was good?”

She watched him attempt to swallow.

“You screamed. Like actually. Must be thirsty.” Bringing a glass of water to his lips. “Have a sip.”

“Can I please- cig?” He was still breathless but she knew he was probably thinking more about that cigarette than he was about untying his wrists.

“Sure,” she plucked a cigarette out of the packet, lighting it up for him between her lips.

“Here.”

Matty smiled. “I love you.” Still out of breath.

#matty healy smut #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfic #matty healy writing