#stop humbling black women

[honeybleed]

— ★ CAPTAINS AS WORK HUSBANDS

content & warnings: fem!reader, post time skip, changed daichi to a firefighter because fuck the police (idea courtesy of deja 😁), kind of suggestive in oikawa & kuroo’s ones, fluff & crack

featuring: various captains (that i’m more familiar with): daichi sawamura, tetsurō kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima & toru oikawa

author’s note: my first written thingie for haikyuu, i’m so nervous i made them ooc ;-; ik i’m late but i really went from supporting my kuroo harem mooties from the sidelines to joining. divider credit to @/xxbimbobunnyxx

daichi sawamura:

Working with Daichi Sawamura was comparable to smooth sailing.

Usually, your colleagues, seniors and juniors could come to the agreement you were exhausting to work with considering your tendencies to play by the book.

No exceptions.

Regardless, the past few weeks of organizing assemblies for schools around the prefecture regarding fire safety with Daichi had been…pleasant?

It was going to be the last assembly and this time it was for the fifth and sixth graders, you and Daichi were sitting in your office tidying up the paperwork.

“It’s late…how are you getting home?” He questioned.

“Oh…the trains are still running. I’m saving up for a car.” You said with an uneasy laugh, a little embarrassed.

“Nonsense, I can drop you home.” Daichi smiled.

“No, no Daichi. I don’t want you to go through all that trouble, thank you for the offer.” You said sheepishly, overwhelmed by the kind offer.

“I wouldn’t feel right about a woman going home this late at night. It’s no trouble for me, at all.”

A sliver of mischief overtook you.

“What? You think cos I’m a woman I’m too fragile to go home by myself?”

Daichi gave you a vacant look before panic set into his system.

“What?! No, no! I don’t think that women are very- No, YOU are more than capable-"

“Daichi, I was kidding.” You giggled. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet you have that chivalrous nature to you. Too many men on the trains give me the creeps anyway.”

He drove a modest car. It suited him. Reliable and not too flashy.

There was an air of melancholy as this would be the last time you’d work together.

As he killed the engine when you directed him to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he gave you a warm smile.

“I really enjoyed working with you.” He said.

“I could say the same..” You replied.

“Forgive me for getting ahead of myself…but I don’t want this to be the end.”

“Huh..?”

“I want to keep seeing you. Would…you like that?” He asked, voice cautious not to overstep.

But you nodded.

“I’d love to keep seeing you. I enjoy your company, Daichi.”

Two people in their late twenties, blushing wildly as their fingers brushed over the gearstick.

tetsurō kuroo:

“I can see you, you know.” You said in a wry tone, your fingers flying over the keyboard and your eyes fixated on the screen of the PC.

“And here I thought I was a stealth master.” Kuroo said in mock defeat as he stopped peeking from the doorway and headed towards your desk. “Alright, tell me. What gave it away?”

“It’s kinda hard to miss that rooster haircut of yours.” You responded. “Not to mention the fact you have to bend over not to bump into the doorframe.”

“Figures. I got some gossip for you.”

“Yeah?” You said as you raised a brow. “Don’t keep me on edge.”

“Seems like Takuya the tech guy has the hots for you.”

“…Me?”

“Don’t act all humble on us now. You know you’re the resident hottie.” He chuckled.

“Big achievement in a workplace where the average demographic in the administration office is middle-aged men. What do you want, Tetsu?” You sighed. “You only compliment me when you want something.”

“Well, I just came here to tell you I warded him off. No need to thank me.” He grinned as he folded his arms.

“And why would you do that?” You questioned, astounded by the absolute audacity.

He scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? The man has black under his nails and had to be called into HR because his B.O. was considered a bio-hazard.” Kuroo said, adamant in his decision.

“Okay, but it’s not your place.” You snickered, amused but still wanting to scold him a little.

Kuroo Tetsuro didn’t mind a little nagging if it came from you, anyway.

“Well, I’m sorry for having your best interest at heart.” He sulked as he eyed you making your way over to him.

Suddenly, his heart began to hammer as you yanked his tie down so his face was close to yours.

“For a team player, you sure don’t like to share, huh Tetsu? I know you want me all to yourself but try not to make it so obvious to the others.” You whispered, breath tickling the shell of his ear.

Heading out of the small office, Kuroo stood as if his feet were glued.

“Fuck, not now…” He groaned as he felt a strain down his slacks.

wakatoshi ushijima:

“Here.”

You looked up to see none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi, brandishing a small bottle in his hand.

As his physiotherapist for the last few months, it was easy to note his habits. For example, he always made sure to turn up to your appointments five minutes early. On the dot.

On the rare occasion he missed it (which had totalled up three times over six months) he’d make sure to email you the day before.

Even if he was ill, he knew his body. He knew a virus was on its way even without experiencing symptoms.

You tentatively took the small bottle from his grasp and gave him a grateful nod.

As you fixed your eyes on the label, almost as if he read your mind he spoke with that smooth voice of his.

“It’s kefir. Good for gut health.”

“Thank you, Wakatoshi.” You smiled. “That’s very sweet of you. Go ahead and take a seat and I’ll be right with you, okay?”

He nodded but one word threw him off.

…Sweet?

Ushijima felt the tips of his ears heat up. Nobody had called him sweet before. He instantly jerked when you set a hand on his lower back and ushered him indoors.

You were used to Ushijima’s strait-laced nature so you were taken aback at him being jumpy at physical touch.

He took a seat on the padded examination table.

It was always funny to see Ushijima’s hulking figure in your office, you smiled to yourself as you eyed him looking around aimlessly.

It was a little hard not to stare at those firm tan thighs of his.

You’d caught a few of his games where he usually dominated the court. His interactions with others were usually brunt and nothing too interesting.

“So, how's the pain been since our last session?”

“It still flares up during serves and spikes. But it’s manageable.” He replied earnestly.

“Do you mind if I examine that?” You asked.

He nodded and shed off his tracksuit top, a white vest underneath showing off his broad shoulders.

He may have agreed but he wasn’t prepared for those soft, manicured hands of yours to begin to knead and palm his right shoulder and back.

“…There seems to be the issue.” You stated as he jerked and hissed at a particular section of skin.

“Wakatoshi, I told you to ice that area. Have you been skipping out on doctor's orders…?” You teased as you tilted your head.

“You’re not my doctor.” He said bluntly.

“I’m the closest thing you got to one.” You chuckled, undeterred by his frigid tone. Quite frankly, it amused you.

“We'll probably need to focus on strengthening exercises. Can you dedicate time to that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. I want to see you at a hundred percent for that game that’s in two weeks."

“You’re coming to the next game?” Wakatoshi asked, a little taken aback. He knew your work schedule was full to the brim since every athlete came running to you.

“…Is that a problem?” You questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” He swallowed thickly and then met your gaze. “I’ll make sure to be on my A game.”

“You’d better be.” You grinned as you slapped his lower back, earning a deep groan from him:

toru oikawa:

“Remember what I told you.” You hissed as you and Oikawa walked into the brightly lit press conference room after his win.

“Relax, relax…! You’d think I was such a nightmare to work with with all your worrying.” He chuckled.

“I mean it. You might be doing fine in games but your publicity is in the toilet. I’m not saying be all sugary but try to be a little gratuitous. Thank your fans…something!”

You froze when you felt his large hands plant onto your shoulders, eyes widening.

“What did I just tell you?” He teased with a glint in his eye.

“…I’m a publicist, Toru. Relaxation doesn’t exist in my world.” You said bluntly.

In your peripherals you noticed a flash go off, causing you to roll your eyes.

There’d always been rumors circulating about the sexy PR manager and Argentina National Team’s Number 13.

You always nagged Oikawa to shoot them down for his own sake since his fangirls were relentless but the most he did was drop a ‘will they/won’t they?’ answer which annoyed you to no end.

“Maybe when you get time off I could fly you out. They have killer massages in Bangkok. You could use one.”

“Just go.” You hissed, pushing his hands off. As he jogged over to the table, he turned around to shoot you a wink.

Oikawa was a natural when it came to commanding attention. As he stood at the podium with microphones, with his billion-dollar smile, the journalists and reporters were buzzing with excitement.

“Alright, alright. Sorry for the hold-up folks. I know this was the first thing on your mind when you woke up.” He chuckled.

You automatically facepalmed.

Your advice went in one ear and out the other. Oikawa was lucky he was handsome. Because despite how douchey that was, it earned a rambunctious round of applause and cheers.

After the cheers settled down, the first reporter stood up, clearing his throat.

“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you on your win. How does it feel to lead your team to victory once again?”

“It’s as natural as breathing.” He chuckled. “But our opponents put up a great fight. I’ll give credit where credit is due.”

“Despite the adoration from your fans, you’ve faced some criticism regarding your unsportsmanlike behavior of riling up rivals. Any response to that?” A female reporter enquired.

“Well, I know my sense of humor isn’t for everybody. Luckily I got our publicist keeping reins on me. And boy does she keep the leash tight, if you catch my drift.” He said with an impish grin.

At first silence, then it was a sudden flurry of questions, reporters and journalists fighting it out to get the first question.

“Are you dating each other?”

“Are you single or taken?”

Toru Oikawa had a talent for sparking media frenzies.

As your eyes met, you gave him a chopping neck gesture as you grit your teeth, earning a belly laugh from him.

You were so screwed.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq hcs #sawamura daichi x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #toru oikawa x reader #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles #oikawa x reader #daichi x reader #wakatoshi x reader #tetsuro x reader

[leonw4nter]

Hi! I love your works sm and have a silly little idea.. Maybe planning and having a wedding with leon? Like im seeing you in your dress for the first time, choosing flowers, the rings, and having all of your friends/family at your wedding etc? Just little headcannons about it would be super cute!!!

DI!Leon Headcanons on planning + having a wedding…

RE:DI!Leon x F!Reader

Leon was supposed to propose to you during an out-of-the-country trip to Switzerland but unfortunately, he left the ring behind and had to secretly beat himself up over it. One beautiful evening, after you and him had just gotten home from the orchestra, he fished the tiny velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee, too overcome by nerves to remember the speech he swore he memorized and too much in love to stall the question.

“You’re the last person I’d want to lose and the first person I’d think of growing old with. Y/N, will you marry me?”. In the end, he got the most unforgettable ‘yes’ he’s ever heard from you.

The wedding planning took 12 months, enough time to plan the wedding straight out of your dreams. He made sure to make the occasion magical, ensuring that the wedding is fit for a goddess amongst women (in his humble opinion). The wedding rings you and Leon agreed on were perfect, eager for the day that you two will finally have them on forever and ever, the rings facing wear and tears as you go gray and feeble with him.

Everyone saw your wedding dress before your wedding day– everyone but Leon. As soon as the large doors opened up and revealed you, Leon could no longer stop the tears flowing down his cheeks– you were so beautiful and breathtaking and it was as if veiled light itself was walking down the aisle. He was unable to keep his gaze to the front, head tilting to admire you every second. “You look so beautiful,” he excitedly whispered. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”

Since you and him agreed on a wedding color scheme of black, different shades of pink, and varying shades of warm white, the flowers you had for your bridal bouquet also followed that scheme, the flowers being cashmere anemones; white and baby pink tulips; vanda orchids; white limonium flowers, and white mink proteas. Everyone else also wore their dresses and suits in pinks and black; Chris opted for a sleek black turtleneck and blazer with a pink flower pinned to his breast pocket. Most of the women in attendance at your wedding opted to wear pink, with the men opting for black. Everyone was buzzing with excitement in their placements: Rebecca and Claire making joking bets that whoever cries first will pay up; Jill and Hunnigan were talking about how pretty you will look; Ethan and Chris were hyping Leon up since the groom was nervous but nevertheless excited; Piers and Carlos were talking about how good everything looks and how magical the air feels.

When the priest said “you may now kiss the bride”, Leon took a small step closer to you, gently lifting the veil that covered your face. He did everything slowly, as if he wanted to savor the moment and commit every single detail– the sparkle in your eyes, the music in the background, and how everyone and everything else seemed to be a blur of colors except for the glowing bride in front of him. As soon as he removed the veil from your face, he took a few moments to admire you and pepper you with sincere compliments. He placed his left hand on your waist while his right gently cupped your cheek, big hands handling you with so much caution as if you were made of porcelain. He leans in and presses the gentlest, softest, most tender kiss ever, a small spreading on his lips when it really sinks in that he finally gets to call you his wife.

You and Leon had your first dance somewhere private since you wanted it to be a moment only you and him will share so after the first dance, you and him walk back to the reception hand-in-hand with the brightest smiles. The ring looked amazing on both your hands and Leon couldn’t stop to admire your hand. “You’ve got a ring like mine too, you know,” you’d softly tell him. “I know. It looks better with you though,” he’d respond sweetly before kissing the back of your hand. For the bouquet toss, you decided to use an exact replica of your bouquet since you wanted to keep your flowers in your own home; Rebecca ended up catching your bouquet, much to everyone’s surprise. She happily swung it around, showing it off to everyone, before walking with a happy sway of her hips towards her boyfriend Billy, which made Billy chuckle before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

You and Leon left early, waving everyone good night and good bye as you got in the bridal car that would take you to the hotel you were going to stay in. Since Chris was sober and had already volunteered to drive you to the hotel, he also left the party early. As soon as you two were out of the reception, it was immediately all kisses and giggles and I love yous muttered. Chris had to look you two through the rear-view mirror and say “I’m still here. You’ve got a room for all that when we get there.”

Married life won’t be all smooth sailing and conflicts are unavoidable but in facing and resolving those conflicts together, you will discover just how strong your commitment to each other is.

NOTE - TYSMM to the anon that requested this, I know I took long before I finally got to answer it but I hope it was worth the wait (despite this drabble being shorter than usual) <33 Currently craving ramyeon and mushrooms and seafood... naw but eating noodles late at night?? TOP TIER EXPERIENCE. Kinda stressing rn since one of my groupmates can't do their part on our research paper and it's getting on my last nerve BECAUSE I GAVE US SO MUCH TIME GIRLIE PLEASE 😭😭🙏🙏 Anyways, let's hope that I passed my entrance exams and the exams I took last week bc my grades cannot take another beating 🕯️TYSM for reading my fics, I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #rebhfun #biohazard #death island leon #resident evil death island #resident evil x reader

[romeosharpae]

“NEVER CHANGING”

theodore nott x reader

last and final part of this series!!! another series is on the way but not sure when though... it's lowkey funny that i wrote that first post in 2022 and now it's 2024.. enjoy though!!

content warnings : cursing, mature language, explicit adult content, rough sex, make up sex, hate sex? (i don't know y'all theo's gone feral), kind-of toxic! theodore nott.

word count: somewhere in the 5k’s

let’s all be happy this part one took 2 months!!

parts : 1,2,3-

Some things just never changed, huh?

Your eyes searched around the crowded ball room and that sentence constantly replayed in your head. The entire thing was cliche, and humbly, you thought you were really above all of it. To avoid vomiting from annoyance, you bring the fleet of champagne in your hands up to your lips and take a long sip.

Standing aside you was boasting your mother and father. The ending of the war was a celebration for new beginnings! Or that's what your father declared in the multiple letter's that he wrote you. Though you knew that wasn't the actual reasoning behind your father's sudden urge to party; He had been trialed for being in cahoots with Voldemort.. and luckily, he was proven guilty. But the concept that you couldn't grasp was why your family wanted to celebrate with a party, it's not like the moment these people walked out of your childhood home that your mother wouldn't judge everything about them. Despite your disagreement of this you were unfortunately still in attendance, wearing an expensive black dress that nicely hugged your curves with your hair neatly pinned up.

Truthfully, if it hadn't been for your father's threat you wouldn't be here. You smiled when the twenty-seventh person approached your parents tonight and engaged in a meaningless conversation. Very rarely did any of the guest direct words towards you, and you really didn't even care because this was probably the last time you'd see most of them.

"Ah! Y/N, I almost didn't recognize you." The women spoke awkwardly, a fake smile slapped on her face. "How has things been going for you abroad?"

"Fine, Thanks for asking."

Before you even finished speaking the women turned back to your parents. About 3/4 into your sixth school year at Hogwarts you made the decision to go and study abroad, well, your parents knew that Hogwarts was in shambles and no longer wanted you there, so they sent you to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You didn't put up much of a fight because you always wanted to travel the world, and on top of that there were things that you needed to detach yourself with at Hogwarts. So, for the past three years of your life, you've been living happily between Italy, France, and America. Ironically, your extremely rich father funded that and threatened to stop doing so if you didn't show up tonight.

So here you were, sipping through endless champagne as you were surrounded by stereotypical aristocratic purebloods. It reminded you of when you were still in school.. you hated it then and even more now.

"Excuse me, I need some air."

Your parents didn't pay much attention to your words, far to engaged in their conversation. You took another sip of your beverage as you stepped outside of the ballroom and onto the balcony. There was a part of you that missed England while there was another that didn't -- Your life was filled with so much diversity now. You traveled, met new people, ate new food, learned about cultures… everything! But you still missed your home,

Or at least that's what you tell yourself it is.

In your heart, although you were often belittled for your lack of "accomplishments" you absolutely loved traveling the world. But sometimes when you were lying in bed, staring at the celling in silence, you couldn't but to feel sometimes that there was a void that needed to be filled. It was almost like your mind and body feened for something that you couldn't actually make out.

"…Y/N?" The deepness of the voice almost has you thinking it's your father.

With a bull-crap apology sitting on the tip of your tongue you twisted your body to where the sound come from. To your surprise it wasn't your father here to scowl you… it was the last person you needed to see. Your apology swallowed back down, along with every insult you promised yourself to throw Theodore's way the next time you crossed paths. The familiar deep blue gaze and beautifully structured features had your stomach falling your feet. Were you seeing things? Or dreaming?

Why would your parents invite Theodore Nott to your home? They always wanted the two of you together and perhaps that's why they allowed him to take advantage of your naiveness for so long, but you expressed when they wrote you about him three years ago that you wanted zero involvements with the brunette.

Recalling how he emotionally drained you years ago have goosebumps spreading across your skin. Recalling your emotional breakdown in the common room that night makes you more uneasy. The only thing that comforted you was the promised that you made and kept so far, since that night in the common room Theodore Nott never had you again. Not as a lover, as a friend, as an acquaintance… nothing! For the first few weeks it was hard, you missed him because you loved him, but seeing the smugness on his face in the great hall that declared "she'll be back" kept you from going back. Then eventually you left, and your healing became much easier.

"Hi Theo." You softly greet. "You look Good."

You were telling the truth, the brunette looked extremely handsome tonight. His brunette hair was styled in a way that you never seen before but liked and the suit he wore was black. You couldn't help but to think that in a way, the two of you almost looked like you came to this party together.

The brunette pays your compliment no mind, eyes simply piercing into yours, and he wore an expression like maybe he thought he was seeing things or dreaming. The intensity behind his eyes has shivers rolling down your spine -- There was a moment in time when that would've turned you into puddy but now the effect wasn't that strong. Ironically, there was a moment in time when you never could've imagined not talking to Theodore for three minutes let alone three years.

"There you are, Y/N. Come back inside."

Your mothers voice rang through your ears. When you turn around, she's standing at the entrance of the balcony, shooting you a disappointed look. Her eyes than snapped to Theodore who was still staring at you, "What a pleasant surprise, Hello Theodore!"

Your mother wore a smile that lets you know that she purposefully invited the brunette against your wishes. You scoffed, underneath your breath and folded your arms over your chest. Theodore continued staring at you, distracting himself from what your mother was saying.

After taking the hint that Theodore probably wasn't in the right mind to give a response your mother stepped back into the party. There was something deep inside of you that didn't want to leave Theodore standing out here, it was telling you to talk to him. For closure? Or perhaps a better understanding? You didn't know. Eventually you followed behind your mother and stepped into the party, but you couldn't help but to look over your shoulder,

"It was nice seeing you" You cooed.

And before he got a chance to respond your lost in the herd of people.

The next time that encountered Theodore Nott was just as unexpected as the last. Your mother had convinced you to stay in town for a couple of days extra, you easily agreed. Being your mothers only child came with self-inflicted guilt growing, your father was always working, so aside from the house elf's (Which you didn't have any more thanks to Hermione Granger) your mother was at the house alone all of the time. So, when she asked you stay a few days after the party, even though your gut was telling you no, you did. Plus, you didn't really have anything to do for the next week anyways you really didn't mind.

You were walking into your favorite muggle bistro, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh baked goods. Pansy Parkinson and you always made stops here during the summer for the delicious Angel Cake and ever since you step foot in England you've been craving it. Luckily for you your mother had been at some book club for pureblood housewives this evening, so you were able to go without being criticized for eating from muggles.

You laugh to yourself as you remembered that the last time you came here three years ago. Theodore and you drank so many frapes that your stomach hurt from all of the sweetness. Merlin, although he was horrible to you it was the best when he was good. Remembering the good times for you were hard, mainly because you had to bombard your head with the bad ones to be able to fully get over your attachment to him.

The look that he gave you at the party played through your head like a broken record. You wondered; did he finally realize what he lost after all these years? Did he finally value you as much as you did him back then? It was far too late for all of that.

"Y/N? is that you?!" A voice chirped.

Looking over your eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the bistro's owner daughter. When you used to visit the shop, she'd always insert herself in you and Theodore's conversations, he found it irritating while you thought it was cute because she was so much younger. The small curly head girl ran to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as she embraced you.

"Hi, how have you been?"

"Good! Sit down, I'll go put your order in." The ten-year-old girl dragged you to sit down at the counter, "Same thing, right?"

You smiled, "You know it."

The little girl's hair bounced off her shoulders as she ran into the back, smiling ear to ear. You sat down on the stool, picking up a menu to see of they've put anything new that you'd like to try on there.

You didn't pay much attention as someone came and took a seat beside you, an empty stool between the too. The Frangrance that your nose caught a whiff has your heartbeat picking up… and you didn't understand why because your mind hadn't processed it at first.

"How can I help you?" The waitress asked.

"Can I get a slice of Angel Cake and then a medium Carmel Latte with extra whipped cream, please."

The order makes your ears perk up and finally draws your eyes away from the menu. Ironically enough, that was your same exact that you've been getting from this bistro since you discovered it at the age of twelve. You smiled, "Hey, that's my exact order t--,"

"--Theodore?"

His eyes flew to you the second he heard your voice. Why is Theodore ordering your order? He used to act like this place was the worse now he's coming here voluntarily to eat their food. His blue eyes pierced into yours, and for about two minutes the two of you just stared at each other. You hoped he wouldn't just stare at you like he'd done at the party… It made you nervous. You humorlessly chuckled, gesturing to him,

"I thought you didn't like it." You smiled.

"Yeah, I don't."

"Yeah, why are you buying it then?"

Theodore didn't give you an immediate answer and it makes your stomach twist. You'd spent three years getting over him, why were you so nervous now? The brunette cocked his head, rolling his tongue inside of his cheek before chuckling, his much more humorless than yours.

"Because when you came back, I wanted it to be a shortage of Angel cake, so you'd regret leaving."

"Nothing would make me regret leaving."

Coming back to a shortage of this bistro's Angel Cake probably make you flip out but not make you regret leaving. Truthfully, you don't think nothing would make you regret leaving your six years because deep down you know that had you stayed, Theodore would still be dragging you along like some dog.

He knew that to and perhaps that's why there's fury burning behind his eyes as he looked at you. Yeah, you left without saying anything to him, but it was laughable to you that Theodore wore an expression like you betrayed him by ripping his heart out and stomping on it. You couldn't understand why he didn't grasp the concept that he's the reasoning behind your split… you can't even say break up because you were never in a relationship.

"I've written you eight hundred and thirty-seven times."

"I know." You admit.

"You didn't write back."

"I had nothing to say to you, Theodore."

That was the God honest truth. All of the letters that Theodore had written you from the time you left to about three ago were stuffed in a kitchen cupboard in your flat along. It wasn't like you didn't want to read them, it's just that you knew that you couldn't read them for your own sanity.

Theodore wasn't as calm and collected as you were, he snaps, "And why is that?"

"I'm not going to argue with you." You shrugged. "We're too old for that now, don't you think?"

"Okay let's talk then, Y/N. Let's talk like two civilized adults."

"There's no point in that, Theodore."

A large smile spreads across your face when the young girl brought your desserts out. Following behind her was a different girl with the identical thing for Theodore who was now looking at you like you were talking nonsense. If looks could killed, you'd be lifeless on the floor from the way that Theodore eyes were staring at you. When the dessert was placed in front of you you wasted no time digging your fork into it and breaking off a piece.

"Yes, there is because my feelings for you are never changing, Y/N."

Theodore was trying so hard to get you to fold, but you weren't. It almost sounded believable, but luckily enough you know that Theodore loved to pillow talk and get you exactly where he wants you.

"Okay."

"You don't care anymore."

Theodore spoke the words in a way that lets you know that he wasn't asking you, he was saying it like it was a fact. Your nonchalant attitude was fueling his thinking of that and that brought you satisfaction. To say that your fully over the brunette would be 100% percent lying so you wouldn't say it. You missed him, you shouldn't, but you did.

"Yeah, because you never did." You argued.

"I always did."

You sighed, "I don't want to talk about this anymore Theodore."

"So, you just disappear for three years and now you wanna cry because I want answers, Y/N?--,"

You couldn't believe the words that had just left his mouth. He couldn't be serious right now… you were the villain for leaving? Unknowingly, you stood up to your feet, "Real typical of you to invalidate my feelings and prioritize yourself, Theodore! You want me to sit here and listen to your feelings like you literally didn't break my heart."

"You don't deserve answers."

"I'm sorry."

For the first time, those words sounded genuine leaving Theodores mouth. It almost makes you want to give in, feeling like you've finally proved your point by hurting him back... then you realized two words weren't enough. Two words couldn’t even compare to emotions that you felt when Theodore broke your heart three years ago... it wasn’t enough.

It wasn't enough to forget the fact that he practically used you for his own pleasure, disregarding the emotional attachment that you were beginning to develop.

"What can I do to make you forgive me?"

"Theo--"

"Y/N." He interrupts.

What could Theodore do to make you forgive him? Were you even in the proper mindset to forgive Theodore Nott for the troubles that he put you in? You we're sure, if you were, you're not sure that you wanted to forgive Theodore.

The way that Theodore and you were just staring at each other caused the body hair on your arms to stick up. It felt awfully weird seeing the same cold green gaze from three years ago be filled up with so many emotions now. You heaved out a deep sigh, eyes pulling away from his and onto your drink. You only look back when Theodore placed a hand on your leg, basically sending a shockwave through your body.

"One more chance, Y/N."

You blinked, "Do you even think that you deserve one more chance…?"

"No."

All you could do was hum in response to Theodore. At least the brunette was finally being truthful to you, well, that was the least that he could do after all of these years. You took a bite from your Angel Cake, no longer seeing the point in participating in this conversation with your ex-lover.

"I know that I don't deserve another chance Y/N… but--" Theodore shoots out. "Please."

"I was sixteen--"

"Yeah, so was I Theodore but I had enough common sense to string someone along for an entire year." You sighed, shaking your head. "What do you want from me Theodore? I just don't understand."

"I want you to let me show you that I've grown Y/N. Look, I know that I took you for granted and I'm sorry that it took you leaving for me to realize that I need to show that I cared--"

"I accept your apology Theodore, I do."

"You do?"

You were never really the one to hold grudges and Theodore was aware of that, so you didn't understand the shock behind his eyes. Of course, you didn't hate Theodore, no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Your mind would always flashback to Theodore's confessions to you, how broken he was and how that might be the reason he treated you the way he did. Back then that excuse made sense, now it was almost laughable; Theodore's trauma wasn't the reason he behaved so nonchalantly towards you, he did it because he wanted to and thought you would never stand against it.

"Of Course."

With that you stand to your feet, grabbing onto your frappe. You sent Theodore a small smile, mainly because you were leaving him to pay your bill, before walking out of the Bistro.

The week that you promised your mother that you spend with her went by in a flash. Hopefully by this time tomorrow you’d be inside of your Flat in Rome, laying on your couch and binge watching your favorite muggle series.

But at this time today you were standing in the corner of a crowded party, watching as Pansy Parkinson basically dry-humped Draco on the dance floor.

Pansy spent the entire day with you doing meaningless nostalgic stuff that the two of you did during your time at Hogwarts. You didn’t understand why she decided to hang out with you your last day but the answer came to you eventually when she mentioned a party being thrown tonight in honor of Blaise Zabini’s 20th birthday. She knew you were more likely to go had she been in your face pleading rather than her asking over the phone.

There were numerous of reason why you didn’t want to attend tonight’s party. For starters you knew there was a good chance you’d see people you attended Hogwarts with and they’d question you about your disappearance. That was a conversation that you’d rather avoid because you knew they already assumed it had everything to do with Theodore Nott. Secondly, you knew that this party would consume of nothing but Slytherin’s which you had nothing in common with but having wealthy pureblood supremacist parents. And your last reason was shamelessly staring right at you over the brim of their red cup.

You learned a long time ago that Wherever there was Blaise Zabini there was Theodore Nott not to far behind. So when Pansy mentioned the get together you automatically began spewing up excuses of not wanting to go that didn’t include the tall brunette. You were so determined on not going but there was apart of you that felt guilty; You just disappeared and now you were declining her offer to hang out because of your own selfish reasons.

And that’s you ended up here, standing in the corner watching as Draco and Pansy danced while being eyed like prey.

Theodore’s staring makes you nervous in undeniable ways… so nervous that you feel the sudden urge to use the bathroom. You almost felt pathetic, you weren’t sixteen years old anymore so why would you get so nervous over a look? Sighing softly you turned on your feet and made your way to the restroom. According to Pansy the party was being thrown in Blaise’s flat but you’d considered it more of a penthouse than flat. It peered over the beautiful city of London, giving you in sight of what was taking place on the streets.

It takes you about five minutes to handle your business inside of the lavatory. Before stepping out you fix yourself up, ensuring that you don’t look as nervous as you feel. When you pulled the door open, hands still damp from your wash a gasp left your lips at the unexpected figure standing in front of the door.

“Why are you following me?” You grumbled lowly.

“This is my home, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere I please without being questioned.” Theodore’s snappy tone makes your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Whatever.”

You tried to move out of the bathroom but Theodore just stepped in front of you. Your body shifted in the other direction and he blocked you once again. With squinted eyes you stared up at him once again, “What do you want?”

Theodore took a step closer to you, reducing the space between the two of you until there was none left. For some reason you were stuck, not being able to take a step back to open the space again. Goosebumps rise across your skin, being this close to Theodore did something unexpected to your body. You were scared, knowing that despite your rejection of giving him another chance that you’d allow Theodore to take you on right here if he did the right thing.

“I miss you.”

You sighed deeply, “Theodore we don’t need to keep having this conversat--"

“But we do because you don’t believe me.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe that Theodore Nott missed you in the past three years.. it’s that you knew you shouldn’t believe that Theodore Nott missed you. You couldn’t understand what else the brunette could want from you, He’d taken your pride, dignity, and ability to want anyone else but him. And here he was standing with desire laced in his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Theodore gently said, taking your hand inside of his. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and looked away, feeling the pace of your heart pick up immediately at his convincing words. Theodore quickly grabbed onto your face and turned you back to meet his low green eyes.

“Please Y/N?”

“You’re gonna hurt me again!” You shouted in an unfamiliar tone. “Why are you doing this? Why do you keep doing this?” Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes and your fingers tried to pry his hands off of you but he wouldn’t budge. “You’re so Selfish!”

Theodore had always been self when it comes down to you. Freaking out when you made other male friends, playing the hot and cold game, But this right here was another degree of selfishness coming from him—Theodore knew that he hurt you horribly and that you’ve spent the past three years trying to get over from that hurt. So for him to come after realizing that he could not in fact find someone better than you.. it was selfish.

“I know.” He admits.

A single tear slipped from your eyes, recalling the pain from everything that Theodore had put you through and the fact that you still loved him. It hurts your mind, your body, and your soul. Theodore’s quick in swiping the tear away from the skin of your cheek, you found it funny that after all of these years he was still able to wipe away the tears that he caused. Suddenly, He shushed your quiet cries by pressing his soft lips against yours.

And Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the taste of the brunette back on your lips. While your mind was telling you to push him away, telling you to stop him, but the way that he kissed you made your body crave otherwise.

Perhaps that’s why you’re eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist when he reached underneath your knees to pick you up. You gasped when his hard erection pressed against his lower half and with your mouth opened Theodore takes his chance to slide his entire tongue inside of your mouth.

The two of you continued your sloppy make out session as he carried you inside of his bedroom. After this all of your built up self-respect from the past three might as well go down the drain and truthfully you’re not sure that you cared. Your legs felt weak from arousal when Theodore sat down on his bed with you straddling him.

You gasped from pleasure when his mouth trailed down your neck. Theodore’s kisses were filled with desperation and you could tell how much he wanted you. While one of his hand he lifted your hips up and the other flys to the button of his pants. Sometimes you got annoyed with Theodore’s lack of foreplay during the heat of the moment.. but right now all you wanted was for him to be inside of you.

Need filled your stomach to the brim while your hands yanked your dress up and pulling your underwear to the side. Drool nearly slipped past your lips when you caught glimpse of Theodore’s freed thick cock, precum leaking from the tip.

His lips caught yours in a kiss again, a moan slipped past your lips when he begins rubbing the tip of himself against you a few time, collecting your wetness.

Before you could brace yourself he was pushing the head of himself inside, the familiar stretch has your body burning and your legs practically spasming.

“Stay still, Y/L/N” Theodore groaned.

Although you wanted to listened to him you just couldn’t. Truthfully, you hooked with a couple of euro boys but they didn’t even half-compare to Theodore Nott. The pleasure spreading across your body has your head spinning.

“Goodness, I’ve missed you so much.” Theodore grunted huskily. “Ugh--I hate it when you keep this away from me.” The pace of him thrusting into you picked up and the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into your skin as he kept your waist in place wasn’t even noticeable,

You’ve missed this so much.

Your fingers slide up from Theodore’s frame, you placed your hands around his face and he shuddered. An unexpected vulnerability filled his eyes while he moaned that almost caused you to close yours. You were token aback by it, your walls fluttering around him.

“I won’t hurt you again.”

“Theodore… Please--,” You gasped, barely catching your breath to speak to him. “--Don’t.”

You couldn’t handle hearing Theodore’s pillow-talk right now. Him lying about going to be better was something you couldn’t handle..Something that this intimate moment couldn’t handle. Your eyes fell close when he pulled you in for another wet open-mouthed kiss.

“Don’t what?” He hummed.

Theodore ran his hand through your hair. You couldn’t form a response, truthfully you’d forgotten that the brunette even asked you something. But clearly that didn’t please him because Theodore suddenly rolled the two of you over. Your body was now pinned underneath him, completely vulnerable to whatever strokes he wanted to give you.

And clearly they weren’t nice ones…

Suddenly, there was a change in Theodore’s thrusting. It was rougher, animalistic almost. You weakly pushed against his stomach, small whimpers leaving your lips at every hateful thrust he gave you.

“Look at me,” He growled, grabbing onto your neck and forcing you to look at him. The way that Theodore drives himself into you has your eyes watering, tears streaming down your face, so he was a bit blurry. “Don’t do what?”

The hard squeeze that he gives your throat has you spiraling. You hiccuped, eyes rolling in the back of your head, toes flexing as you came.

“Yeah, Just like that.” Theodore begins guiding you through your orgasm, thrust becoming deeper yet still rough.

“--Theo,” You panted his name.

“Yeah, Theo.” He mocked you. “That’s who’s fucking You.”

Despite you being stuck underneath him, you squirmed at his tone. You already sensed the possessive words he’s about to spew and you’re sure it would send you cumming once again.

“That’s who’s always gonna fuck you, Y/N. Me.” He practically growled in your face, forcing you to keep eye contact with him.

“You don’t wanna hear that I’m sorry? I don’t care because you need to, I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize it but I do love you.”

You moaned but it was overpowered by the sound of Theodore moaning in your ears. Overstimulation filled your body as Theodore finally came undone, spilling his cum inside of you. Your fingernails dig deep into his back while he snapped his hips at yours, drilling his release deep inside of you.

With a grunt, Theodore smashed his mouth against yours in a sensual kiss. He mummers against your mouth, “I’m gonna change, I promise.”

taglist: @jeyusosgirl @rae-pottah @abeltownshipslittlebitch

#smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #hogwarts #harry potter #cherries #lorenzo zurzolo #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #hp fandom #hp fanfic #slytherin

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 39

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I slept a lot better so you get a touch longer chapter today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit in the mud, mortified. You want desperately to leave but you don’t have the strength to do so. Your flight might be seen for exactly what it is; cowardice. You don’t have much but you have a sliver of dignity to you.

So you pretend. Just like those years you went to school and pretended everything was okay. That your father wasn’t awful and your house wasn’t dingy and smoky. All this time you’ve put your head down and obeyed Mr. Laufeyson as if you had no other purpose. You can do it.

You mimic Sif and stay reclined. You close your eyes and try to enjoy the soft harp music plucking from speakers. You should’ve gone with Frigga. A bit of sweat is better than stewing in dirt and shame.

Your mind races. How long is normal? When can you leave without giving away that doubt gnawing in your stomach? Why would you want to leave? So you can go back and face Mr. Laufeyson? What will you tell him? Do you tell him?

“Thank you, babe, marvelous,” Hela’s silky voice interrupts the din. You open your eyes and look over as her lithe figure slinks in like a cat, “where is she? Ah there you–”

Hela stops short as her eyes flick from you to Sif. The other woman remains silent, eyes closed as she is unbothered by the disturbance.

Hela sets down the glass on the ledge of the tub next to hers and swipes off her robe, handing it over to the attendant behind her. Her skin is rosy and damp already.

“Sif Sigmund,” Hela declares as she lowers herself into the mud bath, “what a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Sif opens a single eye, “what with Walpurgisnacht coming so quickly, you must be hard at work.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Nor I you,” Sif rebuffs, “I always thought you loathed it here.”

“Passing through,” Hela dismissed, “family.”

“And the help?” Sif suggests as she opens her other eye and looks at you.

Hela snickers, “the help?” She echoes, “some of us can be friends with other women, honey.”

“Friends?” Sif squints, “I never knew that to be a line with you.”

“Don’t be jealous, it looks awful on you,” Hela retorts.

“Jealous? You Odinsons always thought so highly of yourselves.”

“So highly you wanted to be one of us,” Hela snipes and lifts her glass, “babe, this is a spa, I’ve come here to relax, not argue with homewreckers.”

Sif’s lips press tightly. You gulp and peer between the women, confused. There’s animosity there which both reassures you and worries you. Despite Frigga’s praises, it doesn’t seem the gorgeous black-haired beauty left on the best foot. Or rather, this a show of how the Odinsons can be vengeful to those who do not fit into their pretty little picture.

Your eyes meet Sif and her thick brows slant. She scoffs and shakes her head.

“Not much of a home to wreck,” she mutters before she takes a sip.

You look away and resist the urge to drown yourself in the mud. Will she be attending Walpurgisnacht? Should you warn Laufeyson? Your chest racks at the thought. You don’t think he would take it as caution, he might even be upset at the mention of her.

Better to just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

✨

You return to the Odinson abode less than refreshed. As Frigga and Hela glow, you feel a dark cloud around you. You keep thinking about that woman; Sif. Just the thought of her name makes you shrivel up. So tall and sleek and elegant. You don’t know why you care so much, you and Laufeyson have an arrangement, not a relationship.

As you pass through the front door, Frigga proclaims that she’ll have some iced tea and snacks put out on the veranda for the evening. You nod and wave your bag wordlessly, you’ll hang your dress upstairs and return.

You scurry up the staircase and slip through the double doors of the bedroom. You linger at the threshold, looking around. Something seems amiss. Something’s… different but you can’t place it.

You go to the wardrobe and hang the dress within, but itself. Your hand flutters over the sewn on silk flowers. It’s so pretty, you don’t know if you should even wear it. You’ll look like a child playing dressup. Maybe you should ask Laufeyson if you should even attend; you could stay in the kitchen and help like you did with Corissa.

You close the wardrobe and flit back out. Before you can reach the stairs, you hear a familiar thunderous timbre. You stop at the rolling voice.

“Father, I have been on my best behaviour. I don’t see why I shouldn’t have my reward…”

Your eyes round and you quickly press on. You shouldn’t be listening. That’s none of your business. Besides, the last thing you need is to run into Thor again. Especially alone.

Downstairs, you find the house desolate. You go into the kitchen and see the elder maid at the counter, stirring ice into a deep blue mixture. Gertrude, you remember. You give a measly hello and rush through to the veranda doors.

Hela is already sat, her head tilted up to the sun as her eyes are hidden beneath her big blocky sunglasses. She doesn’t flinch as you claim a seat of your own, nearly curling up in a ball atop it. He fans herself with her long fingers.

She sighs as Gertrude emerges to serve the iced tea, declaring it wild blueberry before retreating. You fidget but don’t move to pour a glass. You’re thirsty but too distracted to worry about your chalky tongue.

“Did you have a productive conversation with Sif?” Hela frightens you as she sits straight.

“Um, I didn’t say much,” you shrug.

“I wouldn’t think, but did she?”

You shake your head. She didn’t say much of anything. You suspect you aren’t worth her breath.

“Hm, nothing about my brother… brothers?”

“Well… she introduced herself and told me to send her regards to Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Oh, babe, don’t do that. Surely don’t,” she warns. “Ugh, what a pot stirrer she is.”

You frown. Of course you wouldn’t have carried that message. You couldn’t bring yourself to even say her name to Mr. Laufeyson. You’ve seen how his eyes darken when he hears it.

“Look, babe,” Hela plants an elbow on the armrest of her chair, “we should clear the air.”

You tweak your head to the side. What does she mean?

“I know I got carried away when we first met. We both did. I sense there is some tension left between us but we must move past it, yes? It was a bit of fun, nothing more. I can’t have you getting confused,” she flutters her fingers, “I see a pretty thing and I want to play with it but I’ll spare you the pain, you’ve enough bother with my brother. I have a rather short attention span.”

You blink, “oh…kay.”

“So we’re agreed, as fun as this would be, it’s simple to messy,” she smirks, “not that I mind a mess.”

You nod and reach for the pitcher to distract yourself. That day flashes in your mind; the clothes, the mimosas, her lips… you almost forgot it all in the whirlwind of the last few days. You think she may have too until that very moment.

“Darlings,” Frigga emerges in deep pink cotton, “oh, look at this, delicious.”

She sits and uses the tiny golden tongs to serve herself a plate of artisanal crackers then uses the knife to scrape on some of the soft cheese. You watch her, your stomach growling even as it turns. You’re too anxious to eat.

This whole thing is ripe to be a disaster. No, you will be the disaster.

✨

You excuse yourself from the table. You need to lay down. You’ll retreat and hide until Mr. Laufeyson comes to find you. That’s all you can do. 

You’re cautious as you climb the stairs, almost wishing you’d ask for an escort. You listen for the same boisterous echo as before. It’s quiet. You let out a breath; no Thor. 

You let yourself through the double doors and close them firmly. You turn the lock and it schlocks into place. The house is so still and silent, it’s ominous. You blame your addled wits and the long day. You’re on edge after the chaos of it all and that to come.

You go to bed and sit. You hang your head and sigh. You rub your cheeks and slowly raise yourself up, looking around as you once more feel something is off. Your luggage… you left it against the wall, still unpacked, and now, it’s not there.

You stand and peer around, spinning. Where would it have gone? Did Gertrude or Frida, the maids take it? You go back to the wardrobe, it’s still empty. As you turn and near the dresser, a click makes you wince. You look at the doors, they remain locked and sealed.

The clearing of a throat draws you around to face the bathroom door. You hadn’t noticed before that it was closed. Now it’s open but still filled. Mr. Laufeyson surprises you as he wears only a robe and smirks at you. Has he been waiting?

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you titter as you mash your palms together. “I didn’t know you…”

He puts a finger to his lips to hush you, a coy smirk twisting his lips. He turns his hand and curls his fingertip, beckoning you across the room. Shakily, you pull your hands apart and march over to him. He backs up, opening the wide door with him to reveal the sparkling bathroom. You enter hesitantly, unsure, eyes scanning frantically.

You stand in the doorway as he backs up. Your eyes bounce around the space desperately and finally stop as you find your laptop, the laptop he provided you, open on the counter. You shift uncomfortably, a tide of confusion welling over.

“Mr. Laufeyson, what’s…”

He hushes you again, this time with a hiss. You snap your mouth shut and swallow your voice. You look at him, not in the face, but at his throat and how it constricts.

“Pet, you are such a diligent worker. I admire that about you,” he begins, his voice like the distant threat of a storm, “truly, you’d not be here if I didn’t. You’ve ever been so thorough.”

There’s a mocking lilt in his words. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, waiting for the truth. Waiting for the insults you know must dance on his tongue to escape.

“But I didn’t expect you to be so…exhaustive in your research,” he goes to the laptop and taps the space bar to wake up the screen. You frown as he waves you closer. 

As you step up, your heart clenches at the first noise. A man’s growl. You don’t understand until you see the screen clearly. You’d watched the video on mute but you know it by sight. That shower one he’d nearly caught you with before. You didn’t even think to erase your history.

“Pet,” he angles to you and touches your cheek. You flinch and hug yourself, “you are a naughty little minx, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” your voice is hollow and quiet, “I didn’t… I was curious…”

“If you are so curious,” he lets his hand trail down our neck and along your shoulder, “well, you could always ask me.”

He grips your upper arm and pulls it from across your chest. He makes you face him as your heart batters your ribc age. You’re lightheaded as the colours of the screen move in your peripheral and the low volume tickles in your eardrums. You sway as Mr. Laufeyson holds onto your arms.

“Pet,” he drags his hands up and down your arms, “you needn’t be so shy. Didn’t we have a wonderful night?”

You bat your lashes and nod. It was nice but… you’re still not her. You’ll never be her. You’re just a thing to him. Like Hela said, ‘a pretty thing’ or ‘creature’, as Thor taunted, a ‘maid’.

“Well, pet, I’ve reviewed your research,” his hands move to the front of your blouse and he tugs on the fabric, “and come to my own conclusions.”

He yanks as you stand paralysed. You only raise your arms as you sense his frustration. You stare straight ahead, barely processing what’s happening as he undresses you. Your skirt falls down your legs as he traces its path with his touch. He rolls down your stocking and circles around you to unhook your bra.

He pauses as he dips his thumbs under the fabric of your panties and bow to growl along your crown. He rips them down and lets them drop to your feet. He wraps you up in his arms, groping your chest as he rocks you. You feel his arousal, his need. You wouldn’t think of it as desire; he doesn’t truly want you, he wants what he can do to you.

“Pet, why don’t you run us a shower,” he slithers against your ear.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eagerly escape his embrace as he lets you go.

You focus on the easy task. You go to the shower and slide back the glass door. You crank on the faucet, testing the water with your fingers until you have the right temperature. You are deliberate in each step, ignoring his movement behind you.

You squeak as he’s right against you again, his robe gone. He urges you into the show and slides the door shut in his stead. He holds you flush to him, an arm hooked around your middle as his other finds your chin. He turns your head as he leans his own around to meet your lips. His hard dick presses into your back as he groans into you.

His tongue delves deep into your mouth, his kiss sloppy and greedy. You let him do whatever he pleases, doing your best to play along. Your skin speckles with more than the heat of the shower as it reminds you of that video. 

What did he think when he discovered that? Why had he been nosing through your things anyhow? Well, they aren’t truly yours, they belong to him, just like you do. Just another possession among his collection.

His hands rove up and down your body, exploring it as the showerhead slakes you in hot water, furling your bodies in steaming. He feels along your stomach and down your pelvis. His fingers crawl down to your cunt and urges your feet apart with one of his. He rubs you until you gasp.

He pulls his mouth from yours as tiny wisps puff from your mouth. You shake at the buzzing thrum of his touch. You don’t want to feel but you feel everything. He’s stealing that from you. Using you any way he likes.

And you let him. That’s your job. That’s what you agreed to.

He shifts back, coolness filling the space between your bodies as his hand slips from your cunt. He grasps your thigh and lowers himself to his knees behind you. You let out a strangled noise as he grips your hips and leads you backwards.

“Put your hands on the wall, pet,” he demands.

Obedience. That’s your only skill. You take orders. You do what you’re told. You do what’s expected.

He trails his hand around the back of your leg as he bends you at an angle. He keeps his other hand firmly around your hip as he plays with you, swiping up and down your folds, poking and prodding and swirling. He stops along your entrance and you clench as he delves into you.

One finger he presses his thumb to your clit. He rocks his hand, quickly stirring your pleasure. Then another finger, the strain making you whimper. Your fingers curl against the tile and your thighs quake. He pushes into you, over and over, until you’re panting wildly.

As if he senses you teetering on the precipice, he pulls his fingers from you. You quiver as the emptiness tamps the rising swell. He edges you back further so you bend deeper, keeping your palms to the wall. His hand swerves back around the front of your leg and he glides between your folds once more.

Something tickles against your cunt from behind and suddenly a warmth mingles with your own heat. You squeal as you realises what he’s doing. He buries his face into you from behind, tilting your hips as he sloppily laps at you, replacing his fingers with his tongue. The coil in you twists back into place.

Oh god. It’s even better. You’ve never felt like this before. Hot and cold at the same time, shaky and willowy, unable to think as you’re swept away completely. You close your eyes, throwing your head back as you arch your spine, welcoming him.

He groans and growls as he drinks you up, pushing you closer and closer, fluttering his fingers against you between the flick of his tongue. Then, all once, he stops. You’re there, ready to take the plunge, ready to dive into the sheer pleasure coursing through you like a river, and he just stops?

“Say my name,” he nips your bottom, “say it when you cum.”

You gulp, “Loki..” you utter uncertainly.

His only assurance is him diving back into you. His tongue furiously flicks and swirls and laps and begs for more. You feel your slickness smearing across his lips, flowing onto his tongue, and that adds to the vibrant effect of his eager tending. You choke and gasp and let the rise overcome you.

“Lo… Lo…” you quake as your insides knot, “Lo…ki.” You puff and whine as it all erupts, “Loki!”

Your thighs tremble as he purrs through your orgasm. He delights in you pouring yourself into him, surrendering to him as you stand on your toes, leaning into the wall to keep yourself from collapsing. But he doesn’t stop. Not this time. Even as you're ready to scream and slap him away.

He keeps going. He keeps going even though you can’t bear it. He’ll keep going and you’ll let him. That’s the deal. Your body is his but your mind is your own. You’ll just do your best not to think too much.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

[multifandomfanatic02]

"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

.

.

.

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

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[bettyfrommars]

hi hey hello i am here to humbly request a sexy lil stevie blurb where he’s getting his succu bussed by demon babe.

go nuts. go wild. maybe steve is a good catholic boy maybe he’s not i dunno the evil power is in your hands.

goodBoy!Steve x demon!fem!Reader

18+ONLY - MDNI - smut, Steve falls in love, unprotected p in v, hint of dubcon but only for a moment, demon sex, oral for all, hints to religious trauma, heaven and hell, mention of demons, curses, star-crossed lovers. wc: 2.9k

Good Boy

Steve Harrington was on his knees that night, praying at the foot of the bed, waiting for the all too familiar rustling sound to come from inside the closet.  He prayed louder, faster, but he knew you were coming for him, just like you had every night since he found The Book and accidentally summoned you. 

He’d tried to throw the book out the window, he’d tried to burn the book, but every night it returned to his bedside table, right where his bible used to be.  His family farm had fallen on hard times; the dirt was dry, and the crops were dying, and an old woman in town sold him a book with a spell inside that would bring life back to the land.  Steve had always been a very good boy; he worshiped at church, and he worked from sunup to sundown on the farm.  He had sexual relations with women before, of course.  Once right out of high school, and a couple times with his first girlfriend, Dora, but she always told him he was too big, and it hurt.  Steve didn’t want to hurt anyone, and so he’d been saving himself for marriage ever since.  

That is, until, that first night the demon came to claim him.  

It’d been 7 unholy days full of sins unimaginable since the night he drew the symbol on the floor, dripped blood from his pricked finger, and recited the spell from the book.  7 days since the rains came and the diseased crops glowed ripe and plentiful like an overnight miracle. The book itself was tanned leather, made from some type of skin, embossed with three symbols on the spine but no other distinguishing markings. At first, he cursed the day he was stopped by that old woman in the street, peddling her wares in a pushcart.  

Her wrinkled hand snaked out from under her black shawl to take his wrist with a touch that was hot with fever.  “You’ll never know if you don’t try it,” she rasped, hunched over, her face in shadow.  “Many people have been cured by my spells; many roses have bloomed in my wake.  A good boy like you deserves to be rewarded.”

He didn’t even remember buying the book, but suddenly it was clutched under his arm, wrapped in newspaper, and he was on the other side of the street.  He looked around, searching for the old woman, but it was as if she’d never existed.  He adjusted his glasses, lip curled in confusion, running a hand through his unruly hair.  When he unwrapped the paper to see what he had, he realized the pages in the book were, indeed, not the word of God, and so he threw it away in the nearest garbage can.

That was the first time it ended up back on his nightstand.  He tossed it out the window and into the pond, only to have it materialize minutes later.  He recited the lord's prayer and begged for God to remove the book, but it was no use.  

That night, he lay in bed shirtless, one hand behind his head, kept wide awake by the compulsion to perform the spell in the book the old woman had told him about.  In a half hour, the spell was done, and he was wiping the chalk and blood off the wood floor, shaking his head, sucking back tears at the idea of a lifetime in purgatory.  

But, the next day, he realized the spell had worked, and maybe the woman was right: good boys deserve to be rewarded, and Steve was a very good boy.

That night, after an afternoon of celebration at the farm for the miracle that had clearly been a gift from God himself, Steve crawled into bed with a smile on his face.  Under the covers, he jerked himself off, riddled with shame as he did so, moaning a bit to himself, worrying his parents would hear him downstairs.  Blind in the dark without his glasses, he reached for the box of tissues with his cum-covered hand, and touched The Book instead, wiping his seed across the symbols on the spine.

That was the first time he heard the noises coming from the closet: a swoosh, and then a stomp, and then the rattling of the doorknob as something worked it open from the inside.  

When Steve snapped the light on, there you were, standing at the end of the bed.  Looming formidable, smooth red skin tight against your muscles, two horns curled on either side of your head like that of a ram, eyes wide and glossy black. You wore a harness on your neck, breasts bare and firm, nipples hard.  From the waist down, there appeared to be dark fur, as if you had the hips and legs of a goat, complete with the glimpse of a hoof just before it morphed into a human foot, and a human leg.  

Steve scrambled back against the headboard, too afraid to even scream, struggling to get his glasses on.

“Begone demon!” His voice quivered.  But why did he like what he saw so much? You sauntered around the corner of the bed to get closer, long, pointed tongue flicking out to touch your cheek. There was a purring, or a clicking noise happening in the back of your throat

His cock was rock hard, the tip sticky against the inside of the blanket. 

“Do you want me to help with this?” You asked, in the same tone a snake might speak with, finishing with long S’s.  

Steve gasped when you pulled back the cover to reveal his generous length curved tight up his stomach above his white boxers.  You sat down on the bed near his leg, the springs squeaking, and his cock twitched, aching as he watched every flick of your tongue.  With a snap of your fingers, the bedside lamp went out, so now the moon through the thin curtains was the only witness to the weight of Steve’s desire.  

Your teeth were sharp, but your lips were soft, and it was all Steve could do not to buck his hips in his eagerness for you to take him.  This had to be a dream, and in dreams, you can’t be held accountable for the things you take part in.  Maybe he’d even forget it by the time he woke up.  He kicked the blanket all the way down with his socked feet, and you ran your pointed nails along his hairy shin, all the way up to the hem of his shorts, making him shiver.  You scratched at his balls gently with the tips of your nails through his boxers, tapping tapping, causing more pre-cum to dribble from his tip.

“Are you…” Steve stammered.  Sweat shining on the skin under his chest hair.  “...what do you want from me?”

“I want to taste you,” you told him, eyeing the tip of his cock hungrily.  Knowing full well you could take him even if he said no, Steve nodded, bracing his hands on either side of him.  

You bent over but kept your black eyes on him, dropping your long, pink tongue down to taste the sweet skin of his shaft and the fresh juice from his hole, concentrating on the ridge under his flesh tip.  You wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as you did so, softly grazing the skin with your teeth. Steve threw his head back, his balls aching to do their job again. Your mouth was so wet, your tongue like velvet. He really did not want to like this, but dreams were funny that way.

"I need more,” you swallowed, rubbing your lips together.  “You're such a good boy, so patient.”

“I- I- I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve stuttered as you pulled his boxers down and made your way onto the bed to straddle him.  He was concerned with you taking the generous nature of his girth.

The sentiment made you close your eyes, roll your head back and growl, imagining the seed of such a good boy feeding the darkness inside of you.  You took his hand, bringing his fingers to the slick slit between your legs.  

“Holy moly,” Steve gasped.  “Is that…because of me?” His eyes were so innocent when they found your dark orbs, it made you line his cock up with your hole and sink down, pinching the tip with your tight inner muscles, hovering there.

“Remember what I told you?” You waited to hear him whimper with need before you sank all the way down.  “Good boys deserve rewards.”

The speed and strength with which you rode him had his eyes rolling back so that only the whites were visible, neck muscles straining when he turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut.  

“Look at me,” you told him, demanding.  You took one of his hands. “Circle your thumb right here,” you brought it to your clit.  “Rub it fast, just like that, so I can cum too.”  

“Wait, women can cum? Like men do?” Steve blanched in between grunts of pleasure, raising his hips in jerky movements to meet the way you pounded down on his cock.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been inside anyone this deep before.”  He frowned in concentration, rubbing your clit like he was told, experiencing waves of pleasure he never thought were possible.  

“You fill me up so good,” you assured him, bottoming out and then rocking back and forth.  Every time you rose, you milked him with your tight walls.  

Steve barely had time to bark a warning that he was cumming before the whip cracked inside of him and he was pumping all he had inside of you.  

“Oh good boy, good boy,” you repeated, thighs making a smacking sound as you helped him ride his high.  “All of it, give it all to me.”

You waited until he was done, head back breathless on the pillow, before you slipped him out of you and got on your belly to lick him clean.  Your tongue worked under his balls, tickling at his ass, thinking you’d like to stick more in there one day, enjoying his moans as he discovered sensations he liked but had never explored before.

Steve wasn’t sure what you were doing when you moved up to straddle his head, positioning your dripping pussy above his face.  But, then you lowered yourself to his mouth and he understood, throwing his tongue around in your folds as best he could while cum dripped out of your hole and down his chin.  

You wanted to fuck that sweet mouth until the end of time.  Grabbing the headboard, you cursed in your ancient language, cunt rippling against his full lips as you came.  You let out a growl that was animalistic, and Steve realized that the sound triggered a lust deep inside and turned him on, just like everything else about you.  

The day after that, Steve had a spring in his step.  The best sex of his life had been with a demon in his dream, but still—he felt as satisfied as if it had happened in real life.  His parents did say they heard him up late walking around his room, and swore they heard a coyote whining right outside their window, but he brushed it off after he apologized profusely for waking them. 

But, that very next night, he was forced to come to the cold, hard conclusion that, not only were you real, but he was starting to have feelings for you.  

Fully dressed, Steve took his glasses off and threw water on his face in the bathroom sink, trying to wake himself up when you appeared out of the closet the next night.  “No way, no how, no sir,” he shook his head.  “There’s no way this is happening.”

He faced you and jabbed his finger at the book, water dripping from his hair and nose.  “God will smite me if I continue to fornicate with you, and this book is to blame.”

You were not forced to fuck Steve because of a curse.  That first night, yes, he had inadvertently summoned you. But, after that, it was  your own free will that had you polishing your horns and sharpening your claws, wanting to look good for him.  Steve had free will too, and he could’ve told you at any moment that he didn’t want  you there, but he never did. 

On that second night, the two of you kissed for the first time, and then you sucked him off, swallowing him deep inside, making his legs shake and his knees buckle.  Every night was a new sexual experiment, a new avenue of lust to pave Steve’s way to hell.

On the fifth night, you were next to him in bed, silicone strap-on harnessed in place, still slick with lube, and he took your strong, red hand in his.  “You know what? If you’re in hell, I don’t think it would be so bad.”

You turned your head on the pillow.  “There’s something I should tell you.”

The sound of your voice made Steve afraid.  He turned on his side to face you, tucking his hands under his head like a pillow.  “I’m listening.”

You kept  your gaze to the shadows of the ceiling.  “I’m only here for seven days,” you swallowed hard. “And then I have to go back.”

“Back? Back where? In the closet?” Steve pressed.

‘Back…where I’m from,” you said softly.

“Wait, back to hell?” 

You gave a crooked grin.  “If that’s what you want to call it.  But I am not of your world, clearly,” you used your hand to gesture to your body and your horns.  

“I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he offered, sincerely.

You blinked a few times, almost shy under his earnest gaze.  “There’s a portal in the closet and it’s going to close on the seventh night,” only as you said the words did they start to sink in for you.  “We’ll never see each other again.”

The two of you sat in silence for most of the rest of that visit, trying to come to terms with the weight of your realities.

On the seventh and final night, there were tears from both parties.  You let him see you that night, in your actual half human, half beast form, and he did not turn away from you. Steve filled you up while on top of you, kissing you, missionary style.  It was the most vanilla of all of the positions, but it was quickly becoming your favorite as you wrapped your furry legs around him.  You drifted in and out of sleep in each other’s arms; you could only stay till midnight and Steve wanted you there until the last second.  You’d had plenty of lovers in your day, back in your world, but none of them had been as tender as Steve. You worried that you cared about him enough to make the separation very painful.

“What will happen if you don’t go in?” Steve asked, holding your hand outside the closet.

“I’ll probably cease to exist,” you shrugged.  “I’m not really sure.”

Fair enough, Steve didn’t want to take any chances.  If he could summon you once, he could summon you again, and he’d work every spell in the book until he figured it out.  When the time came, there was one last tearful look and hand hold before the door shut, but just as it closed flush with the wall, Steve flung it open again, needing one more kiss from you.

But, you were already gone.  

You were not the only thing missing.  To Steve’s horror, he realized he was no longer in possession of The Book.  There was an empty space on the nightstand, and it was not under the bed or in any of his drawers. 

The next morning, he tore his room apart, rummaging through the tiny closet, groaning in frustration, flipping shoe boxes over his head and ripping coats off of hangers.

“What’s going on up there, Stevie? We’ll be late for church.” His mother’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m not going!” Steve barked, but then he collected himself. “My apologies mother.  I’ll be right down.”

The sermon by Pastor Wilson was particularly long and torturous that day for Steve in his button down shirt and tie. He desperately wanted nothing more than to go back to his closet and find a way to get back to you. Pastor Wilson asked the congregation to stand for a hymn and that was when Steve caught sight of a familiar sight out of the corner of his eye: it was the hunched over figure of the old woman he’d bought the book from.  She was standing outside the church window, looking in, her black scarf over her head, bracing against the wind. 

But, she was moving now, turning and walking away.

Steve followed, excusing himself, he pushed through bodies as fast as he could without knocking people over while the congregation sang about begging for holy protection from satan.

Steve broke through the church door and out into the daylight just in time to see the older woman disappear around a street corner, shuffling her cart with her.  Steve ripped his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt, preparing to run the distance to catch up with her.

“Leaving now?” An elderly man shouted after Steve from inside the church.  “You’ll go to hell for that, son.”

“God, I hope so,” Steve barked over his shoulder, arms pumping as he lit out across the street, running toward the devil with all his might.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington oneshot #stranger things smut #oneshot #demon #monsterfucking #monsterfucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #joe keery #steveharringtonsm #steve smut #sh

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sting, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader — mentions of husband!seokjin x reader

summary: “Please let me borrow your husband.” “You can if I can borrow Seokjin.” And so Min Yoongi was here, sitting on a ivory-colored leather sofa, surveying Kim Seokjin's wife with a critical eye. He hadn't expected to be in this position, but it was his wife's request and he never disappointed his lovely (devious) wife.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; the other side of the wife swap in honey, m (ksj) and Yoongi is about to fuck his hyung's wife, yup; D/s smut (fem reader, he is borderline mean, manhandling tbh, choking kink, hair pulling, nipple play, he spits on her tits, m-receiving oral / face fucking, ass + pussy slapping, m-masturbation, fingering, standing doggy, overstimulation / multiple orgasms); non-idol!BTS - dom!Yoongi x not-his-wife, sub!reader; Yoongi's POV

his outfit is inspired by the 'D-Day' Agust D ver PC photos, leather moto jacket and ripped jeans, and ofc his long black hair ;)

--

“It’s fun sometimes, to do the wrong thing and get away with no consequence.”

“Please stop giving me tangerines.”

“Ahahaha…”

If anyone was not afraid of falling in love with Kim Seokjin’s wife, it was definitely Min Yoongi. He set the fourth… actually, fifth tangerine onto the stack in front of him on the coffee table. This attempt at offering delicious fruits to lessen the obvious awkwardness was not working. It wasn’t that Yoongi did not like tangerines. He loved them. Refreshing snacks that came in their own compostable packaging? Truly nature’s finest work.

“If you want my fingers stuffed in your holes, it would be rude of me to cover them in tangerine juice,” he explained calmly, pushing back his long dark hair and raising an eyebrow at Kim Seokjin’s wife.

She turned pink and started sputtering.

He remained calm and expressionless, recalling the conversation that made it come to this.

“She’s interested in you,” his wife had said with a small smile.

“In me?”

“As she should be, because my husband is handsome, talented, and a sex god.”

Yoongi hadn’t married his wife because she was humble; she was simply honest.

Obviously.

He had been called to action and he intended to fulfill his promise. Interested in him, hm? Yoongi wasn’t one to boast about his sexual prowess himself and, anyway, he was infinitely better now than before his wife. Took a god to create another, right? He half-smiled, knowing his wife would enjoy such a comment. But he had to put those thoughts away at the moment and not be disingenuous to the lovely lady in front of him. His hyung had taste in women, all right. She was pretty in the way that was easily approachable. Kind eyes and a soft demeanor. He knew Seokjin’s wife well enough to know she was usually had a more casual, clean style, but today she wore a black slip dress with a matching black lace bolero. The seams of the dress framed those juicy tits perfectly. No bra either. Such easy access. The dress was within her realm but fancier and sexier. He suspected that the outfit was his wife’s encouragement to get him in the mood. Heh. She was really enjoying orchestrating all this, wasn’t she? She knew what made him tick and how to frame this moment to make him want it within his grasp.

A challenge.

Yoongi couldn’t refuse to back down from a challenge to himself.

In contrast, he had arrived in his worn, black leather moto jacket, faded white-and-grey t-shirt, and distressed acid-wash slate jeans. Again, his wife’s doing. He had asked her what to wear. She had suggested for him to dress comfortably – probably to create this juxtaposition on purpose. Most times, he tended to dress up when visiting Seokjin’s home. The, uh, neighborhood seemed to call for it. But not this time. He hadn’t even tied up his hair, just left it shaggy and unkempt, leaving him looking more roguish than usual.

He heard his wife’s growling whisper in his ear.

Stop fucking around.

He let out a slow breath and flicked his eyes up.

Raised an eyebrow.

Seokjin’s wife was attempting to say something to him, red-faced and wringing her hands adorably, but Yoongi raised his hand and placed a single finger on those soft, glimmering pink lips. No matter what, he had to remind himself of her position. Therefore, he was going to avoid using her name directly unless it was absolutely necessary. He also preferred less talking. He needed to be in his head to pull this off.

He stared into those wide, expectant eyes.

Spoke slowly, using the lower octave of his vocal range.

“The safe word is tangerine.”

These self-imposed boundaries were not because Yoongi didn’t like her as a person. He did, but Seokjin’s wife was not his wife, so the emotional turn-on was missing. And, unlike his wife, his domspace was in a deeper place. He had been spoiled by his love and her energy. She always coaxed out his darker desires with ease, but this time he had to bring out his primal side by himself to lead properly.

“You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question.”

He raised his chin, volume barely above a whisper.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly.

A small spark raced down his spine and Yoongi licked his lips, removing his index finger from her lips.

In complete silence, he hooked two fingers around the hair elastic on his left wrist and pulled up, raising his arms in a creak of leather to tie back the top half of his hair. Partly to get it our of his eyes. He secured his ponytail and lowered his arms, trailing his gaze up the sheer thigh-high stockings to lush hips flush against the sofa cushions to small hands clasped tightly in front of her chest and then finally to shaking irises that were taking in his half-tied back hair.

Heh.

Her lips parted, simply staring at him.

The corner of his lips ticked upward.

Then he shot his arm out and grabbed her by the throat.

She yelped, hands flying up and gripping his wrist and edge of his palm, but Yoongi had done this many times. He immediately locked his hold but did not press inward. Instead, he pushed his shoulder forward, forcing her body to tip backwards slightly, suspending her upper body in the air.

 “Ah, Yoongi-oppa–”

He closed his other hand over her mouth, gripping her cheeks tightly.

“What did I just say?” he warned.

Stern, with an edge of danger. She nodded very quickly even though technically this was not a question to agree to. He let it slide. He tilted his head, still covering her lips.

“Scared?”

The terror in those eyes was not as honest as it could be.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He removed his hand and traced a line from temple to chin, keeping his touch feather-light and gentle.

“I’m only going to push the line of pleasure and pain,” he murmured.

Yoongi only had a vague idea of what was expected of him. He knew she wanted to be truly dominated as this was not usually part of her sex life. He didn’t really want to know specifics anyway. He only wanted to know what he could do that was different. The issue was that apparently his hyung couldn’t be detached and impartial. In short, Seokjin worried too much because he was too sweet. Sometimes he sacrificed acting so it didn’t affect his performance. He had strength and he could be overbearing, but not exactly in a rough take-what-you-want way.

Yoongi tucked a spare strand of hair behind that delicate ear.

“It might sting though.”

He noted the small gold hoops covered in diamonds. Hm. Pretty. Maybe he would ask for the brand later.

Then he smiled.

Calmly.

And choked her.

The sensation of power seeped into him. Thick, heavy, coating his senses, dripping like hot honey, drawing all of his focus into her surprised eyes, those petting fingertips stroking the exposed veins and tendons along the back of his larger hand, soft mewl calling for him, and Yoongi felt his lips curve into a knowing smirk, honing his attention on the submissive wordless plea falling from those lips.

He raised his body with one knee on the sofa, half-standing, hovering over her, adding pressure to the sides of her neck, slowing down the blood flow. A beautiful flower trapped in his clutches. He leaned in, tracing the edge of his teeth with his tongue.

He could almost taste the nectar.

“Hah…”

Let his breath warm those open lips, running his fingers through her hair.

“I would say, let’s play nice, but.”

His wickedness unfurled.

“I have no intention of playing nice.”

Yoongi tangled his fingers into her hair and yanked hard, relishing in the pained whine before taking it away by the throat, choking her into silence. Closed the distance, lips hovering over shaking lips, but he denied that too, dragging his tongue over her cheek, tasting flesh and anticipation.

“Did you really think I would kiss you?” he purred, letting the words stir and curl in the depths of his chest. “Let’s see if you can earn that gift, hm?”

He didn’t bother to be gentle. That wasn’t the point and, besides, that consideration was reserved for his love. He let go, simply releasing all the pressure instantly, and settled back onto the sofa, not even giving the grace of a glance in her direction. He heard her reel from the sudden punch of oxygen and freedom, collapsing slightly in wheezing coughs, and Yoongi immediately placed his hand onto her shoulder and shoved her to the floor, hooking his leg around her body and dragging her in front of him, on her knees.

She gasped, gripping his thighs, looking up with pained eyes.

He dragged himself forward, on the edge, and looked down with a grin.

“Pretty in pain.”

He let go of her shoulder and hooked his fingers over the edges of the bolero and the straps of the slinky slip dress, lifting and sliding them down her arms in one smooth motion. She squeaked, suddenly self-conscious but he knocked her hands away, tucking the upper half of the dress under her breasts, chuckling darkly. Nipples already hard, plush tits pushed up by the dress. He cupped his hand under her chin again, gripping tight. Lifted her up to set her back straight so her tits were pushed out, her exposed body between his open knees.

He made his voice was cold and as deep as possible.

“Show me how you play with your tits for your husband.”

Not choking yet, but her breathing was already short, whimpering. Slowly moving her hands from his legs and flattening her palms against her breasts, kneading them lightly, unsure how to proceed. He let it be humiliating. Not reacting, ticking his head and lifting his eyebrow. Did not remove his hand though, tipping her head back more in warning. She gasped, moaning softly as she pinched her nipples, pulling them out and toying with them more.

“Harder,” Yoongi growled.

Shaking whines as he watched her obey, pinching harder, squeezing her breasts so they spilled out against her fingers, her eyelids fluttering as he subtly applied pressure. He lowered his face, staring into her glazed-over eyes.

“What is the safe word?” he asked directly.

“T… T-Tangerine.”

Yoongi nodded. “Hm. Good girl.”

Her face lit up from the praise until he spat on her tits.

She yelped and her whole body jerked, glossy saliva dripping down the curves and sticking to her skin, but he ignored it, choking her hard as he raised his hips and unbuttoned his jeans with his free hand, speaking calmly and slowly.

“You said I reminded you of tangerines,” he mused, recalling the earlier conversation. “Soft on the inside, tough peel on the outside. Mmmm, but I don’t know about that.”

He abruptly let go again, sending her into a spiral of sensations. Rushing blood, tension broken, air flooding into her lungs, and he took the moment to lower his jeans and his underwear. He thought about removing more but honestly he enjoyed this power play more. He reached behind her and wound the lace bolero down, trapping her squirming arms. She was utterly confused and then suddenly frozen, staring at his hand around his hard cock. He ran his thumb against the side, locking her head in place with his other hand, spreading his fingers over the crown of her skull, bringing his hips forward without a word.

He licked his teeth, open-mouthed smirk dripping sin.

“Now, I know hyung wouldn’t marry a woman with a subpar mouth, so let’s see what you’ve got.”

He pushed her head down and thrust roughly into her throat.

He settled his other hand behind him before fucking her face, not fast but deep, enjoying the little jolt of her shoulders as he did so. Tight and soft, just as he liked. Not nearly enough tongue, but he didn’t fault her for the lack of technique. Probably not every day she got face-fucked in such an uncomfortable position. Therefore, he didn’t put the pressure on her to get him off but rather used her like a toy, back and forth, smacking his balls into her chin, tucking his tongue into his cheek as he looked down and watched her breasts bounce with his force. Her whimpers added vibration to pleasure, and he curled his fingers into her hair, imprisoning the position of her head so her mouth could serve his cock, each snap of the hips anchored by his torso and thighs, letting him put real force behind his action.

He remained silent and amused.

Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her hands were pinned down to her thighs. He saw her fingers twist into the hem of her dress, lifting it up. He kept the pace consistent, building his orgasm, feeling it to his core, wet, hot, tight, muffled cries stuffed back into her throat over and over again. He tilted his hips down, running the head of his cock along her tongue for more stimulation. The hardware of his moto jacket clicked with his repeated thrusts, the leather hot and stuffy, the kind of discomfort that only added to the mood. The whole situation reminded him slightly of how he had been back in the day, barely an adult thinking he could do whatever and whoever he wanted.

Feeling good by doing the wrong thing and getting away with no consequence.

He exhaled hard.

Small tears gathered against her lashes, the strain and desperation of being good blatantly evident.

“I see what your husband enjoys so much now.”

Her eyes opened a little.

Glassy.

Used.

Delicious.

He came down her throat, raising his hips to stuff it down.

Her eyes rolled back, whimpering and almost sobbing, hurriedly swallowing to breathe. He bit back his wince, oversensitivity crawling up his back, and pressed deeper, groaning as he felt his cock jerk in her tight throat, squishing more cum into her tongue. He pinned her head there, sucking in a hissing inhale to get his bearings, her breath warming his lower belly.

Good job, my darling.

Yoongi snarled deep in his chest. He knew his wife too well. Could nearly imagine her here, watching carefully and with that small smile that meant she believed he could do more. Be more. Push the limit. Fuck. He let go, throwing off his jacket as the woman between his legs gasped and moaned, spent from being used. But it wasn’t those hazy, lust-drunk eyes that were in his head.

However, you’re better than that, aren’t you?

He knew he was being stared at. He was a spectacle right now. His falling jeans, the tangle of chain and leather bracelets clinking on his wrists, the way the large t-shirt clung off his torso, his half-tied up long black hair, the faint sheen of sweat along his flushed cheekbones, and, finally, his furrowed brow and sharpened gaze, looking down at the pretty thing between his open legs.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

He didn’t waste time going to the bedroom.

He pulled the condom from his jacket pocket and yanked her up by the arm, bending her over the side of the ivory leather sofa. An unceremonious position for Kim Seokjin’s beautiful wife, but Yoongi didn’t give a shit. He peeled the lace bolero from her arms and tossed it onto the floor, shoving his hand down on her upper back. She squeaked, falling forward onto the cushions and his leather jacket, grabbing it tightly as he caught her waist, steadying her body just before harsh contact.

“Spread your legs,” he said coolly, borderline bored.

“B-But–”

Smack!

The flat of his palm instantly stuck her ass. She yelped and squirmed, stifling her cry by burying her face in his jacket, and he made no move to comfort, pushing down on her lower back so her round, inviting ass popped up more.

“You do not speak unless I ask you a direct question,” he sternly reminded.

She made a choked noise of agreement.

“Good girl.”

He couldn’t help but smile when she mewled softly at his words. So easy. He fanned his fingers over her ass, tapping lightly. Watched her fingers curl into his jacket, covering herself with his scent. He ghosted his touch over his half-hard cock and hummed, gently drumming his fingertips down, closer, leisurely.

Then he slapped her pussy.

Already wet, creating a loud squelching sound. She cried out, back arching, throwing her head back, and he continued, hard slap after slap, using the full expanse of his hand to amplify the sting to skin. She tried to close her legs and he forced them apart with his knee, casually stroking himself as he did so, unexpectedly interspersing hits between her ass and soaked pussy. No rhyme or rhythm, just deadly calm and his own soft sighs of satisfaction completely contrasting the force behind his hand. It was all too easy to slide his fingers down her slick slit.

Yoongi bent down, rubbing her clit firmly as he whispered above shaking shoulders.

“You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”

He only now noticed that he had slipped into his satoori, forgetting to speak properly. It didn’t seem to matter through, because she was clawing at his jacket and whining, yes, please, y-yes, a fresh wave of shuddering moans when he shoved two fingers into that tightness, viciously pumping them in and out. He kept her waiting, just for seconds longer, jacking himself off as he felt her walls suck him in, clinging and pulsating around his fingers, hot skin radiating against his.

Enough is enough, Yoongi told himself.

He debated on removing his shirt but decided he didn’t care. Reached back to his falling pants' pocket and pulled out the condom, pulling his fingers out to rip it open. Sweet honey clung to his knuckles but it didn’t hinder him. Seokjin’s wife gasping into the sofa, ass flushed pink, trembling legs struggling to hold herself up.

He rolled the condom down.

“Go ahead and scream.”

It was necessarily a scream per se, but it was a very loud feral cry that suddenly echoed about the living room the moment he shoved his full hardness deep inside, adding a snap of his hips to bottom out. He exhaled hard, gripping her ass and lifting it roughly to adjust the angle. Easy when she was melting against him, clawing at the sofa for some kind of hold. No need, but he didn’t say so, enjoying her euphoric agony. He could feel her ass grind into his crotch, inner walls gripping him tightly, and he secured his hold on her hips, locking his fingers, and began to fuck her right against her own sofa.

He hoped she remembered picking out the furniture.

Hoped she remembered discussing it with her husband and laughing as their butts tested various contestants before selecting this very particular one, only to be bent over it and taken like an animal, face against the cushions, the metal zipper of his leather jacket cutting into her breasts as she bunched it up under her chest, gasping and moaning from his powerful, deliberate thrusts. Yoongi made it last, choosing power over speed. He tensed his pelvis and leaned forward to get that depth, panting, pressing his fingertips into her waist hard enough to leave bruises.

“You wanted me to choke you, wasn’t that it?” he breathed out, heavy and raspy. “Where did you get the audacity to ask for something like that?”

“A-Aah, p-please… she–!”

He smacked his palm against the side of her hip and she cried out, throwing her head back, hands slipping against the leather. The answer didn’t really matter.

“And what make you think that you wouldn’t face the consequences?”

Yoongi was just in the mood to taunt.

He was nearing the edge so he gripped one of her shoulders, bending over her smaller body and slamming his hips into her ass, violent pleasure snaking into his veins. He looked down to see her face turned, cheek pressed into his jacket and the sofa, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, whining pathetically as he buried his cock deep inside and hissed, feeling her pussy pulsate and clench around his jerking length.

No time to breathe.

He spread his fingers over her upper thigh and held tightly onto her shoulder, lifting her upper body up. Reflexively, her hands planted onto the sofa to support her, quivering arms and all, and that was exactly what he wanted.

With some effort, Yoongi twisted his right wrist and choked her.

His left hand slid down and he rubbed fast, tight circles over her swollen clit.

“Your boldness needs to be punished.”

Moaning, crying, whining, her whole body becoming rigid and then ransacked by shivers. Strangled whimpers of his name but Yoongi didn’t stop, pushing for another orgasm that he could still feel even around his softening length. He was large enough that he hadn’t slipped out. She no longer had any control over her body, second orgasm incoming, the overwhelming pleasure eating up all common sense and the highs blending into one another, extending his own pleasure as her pussy convulsed, thick, honey-like cum sticking between their joined thighs. Her arms went limp, collapsing, and he had less than ten seconds to hold her up before gravity would knock them down.

He clenched his jaw and pulled back.

Standing was a loose term for what was happening. Yoongi had to grip the side of the couch so he didn’t stumble, keeping his grasp on her collarbones to press her hot body against his, still shaking from the intensity. The room reeked of sex. His cock was sliding out. He should have gotten rid of his jeans. They were a hinderance around his calves now.

Sigh.

Seokjin’s wife was fully leaning on his chest, gasping lungfuls of precious air.

His own wife was probably having her own way with Kim Seokjin right now, but she was a better planner and not this messy.

Right?

“Hey.”

He grabbed one of her tits and sank his fingers into it, kneading roughly to get her attention, but the eyes that greeted him were completely unfocused. Nice.

“Let’s take a break.”

She tried to rut into his crotch but his hand shot up, grabbing her chin and yanking it to his face, forcing her into an uncomfortable twist of her exhausted body.

“I will rephrase. Stop.”

She whimpered, unable to fight him. He softened. She was very pretty. Too innocent-looking and airheaded for him, but that didn’t matter. It was very clear that she enjoyed it, but now Yoongi could see there was hesitancy in asking if he did. Probably had something to do with the unapproachable air of his demeanor right now. He toned it down a little, closing in the distance. He wasn’t much of a talker, which didn’t suit everyone. He relied too much on his wife to infer from his actions but it wasn’t fair to apply that line of thinking to everybody. He had to do his best to be communicative even if he wasn’t saying something directly.

“Don’t give me those puppy eyes,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve earned one kiss.”

He tilted his head and kissed her deeply. Strands of his hair fell forward, loosened from his ponytail, drifting onto her temples. Gentle, delicate, sliding his tongue lightly against hers. He let it last. He could taste desperation. It made him smile into the kiss.

There was no rush.

He had a lot of time left.

His hand slid down, his long fingers decorating that neck.

“And more to do,” Yoongi whispered to trembling lips.

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[firewalkzwit]

arabella // hobie brown x reader (one-shot)

oneshot of hobie trying to pursue a reader who's effortlessly cool and has strong arabella vibes cuz i love that vibe. inspired some on slc punk and sex pistols lore, cool fic for the music enthusiasts

New girl's hip New girl's cool New girl's interesting New girl's hot.

"She came straight out of 70's New L.A. She's no rockstar's girlfriend, she's a rockstar herself! Crazy hair, mysterious bassist, she's from outer space."

AO3

And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams...

"Ay, who's the new girl?" Was the first thing Hobie asked as he nudged Pav's shoulder, not breaking his intense stare at the new recruit. 

"New girl? Oh that's YN." Pav shifted his narrowed eyes into Hobie's, a teasing grin drawing on his face.

"Yea' but what's her full name...?"

"Go ask her yourself man, everyone calls her YN." Hobie never got her name, she refused to be called anything but those particular initials.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was stunning, show-stopping, alluring. 

At least to Hobie, all adjectives were perfectly applicable.

She had this quirk, this confidence and these slight Chrissie Hynde vibes, boldness when she spoke that made her so attractive, and to top it she was a great musician. 

Back in her dimension it was the seventies, and she was the leader of a girl band where she played the bass, doing small gigs in downtown New L.A.

She wore flamboyant black cowboy boots and scandalous skirts, with chunky sunglasses that looked like the eyes of a bug. She had crazy hair and wore Vivienne Westwood's accessories on her pierced ears and fingers before it was even cool in the US. Her dark tights were always ripped but she didn't care, she called it a fashion statement. So did she call her Spidey suit, which had a unique design that caught anyone's attention. 

Love was for posers Hobie thought, but what's more punk than going against your own structures?

"Gwendy I gotta' talk to this girl more." Hobie's frustration was something Gwen wasn't used to seeing. His nature was often relaxed, only energic when invited to disrupt the order, but hardly ever frustrated.

"Well, you don't have to." Gwen shrugged as she tried to mask the frown that was forming in her face, but her wrinkled nose gave away her displease of jealousy.

"I know, but I want to." His attention was fixed on YN, how she moved and talked. "I wanna hear her play. You're a girl right? When you girls think a lad's fit, how much of that comes from his coolness?" He asked as he leaned on Gwen's side, resting his body weight on her. She scoffed in disbelief at the absurdity of his question, something only a man could ask. 

"Since when do you want to conform to the arbitrary standards of women?"

"I don't, I just wanna' know how many I can get away with breaking and she can still like me yea'?" Hobie chuckled before getting up again. "Don't get too jealous on me alright?" He joked, patting his friend's shoulder as he jumped down from where they were sitting, approaching her once again.

"He's never gonna give up is he?" Miles sat once again close beside Gwen, who sighed at the sight of Hobie attempting to come off as nonchalant with a girl who only seemed to curve his insinuations over and over. 

"That's such a man thing to do, no offense." Gwen spat as her hand slid down her face, pointing at what she could only describe as a humilliation show.

"Yeah... right." 

It's not that she didn't notice, she just dodged him. She thought there was more important things to do than let herself be conquered by some co-worker. But she was lying if she said he wasn't winning her over.

He also was so her type.

The funky hair, the spikes on his leather vest, the stickers and carvings on his guitar, his Iggy Pop vibes and his weird slang. But he thought he was so it, he was a nice guy but he needed some humbling. Their first conversation was about Bowie, and he played her a bit of Moonage Daydream as she recalled when she saw him live, getting all starry eyed whenever she'd narrate the part where she gave him a ride in her car.

"You gave Bowie a ride?"

"Spider's Tour, yeah..." She giggled, flipping her hair in a way that had him starstruck. "In my mom's car."

"In your mum's car? Oh get out." She went on to talk about how that changed her view on music, going on about her gigs in New L.A and how she moved there to make it big. 

Hobie was sure he was listening, but as much as he tried to contain himself, keeping in comments was not in his book.

"You always dress this mad? Like, all the time?" He bursted out with a smile, cutting her off. They were sitting on a counter table, with his guitar on his lap. He leaned closer to pick on the fabric of her coat. 

"Always. Do you always dress so pretentious?" She retorted with a smug grin, pushing her hair out of her face. His eyes shot up to look at her, puzzled. "I mean, aren't you like... rebelling against society?" Hobie let out a slight laugh, his head tilting in interest as he looked into her eyes. 

"Well, yea'. Why?"

"Don't you think it would be more of an act of rebellion if you didn't spend so much time buying stickers and pins and going out to get punky clothes? Stop me if I'm being offensive, I think the style's hip, but it just seems counterproductive to your cause."

"Na' its cool, keep going." He struggled to discern if he was actually listening, or simply invested in watching her mouth smart words as her long painted nails tapped on the counter.

"You want to be an individual, but it's like you wear a uniform. It's just punk fashion, not rebellion." Hobie's eyes fixated on her's, leaving a strong silence as she ended her phrase. 

"I'm not judging you, just kind of a general critique to what they call punk movement."

Hobie brushed her off with his usual humorous comments to maintain his pride, but he was dazzled. Even if she had criticized his way of thinking and how he dressed, she was so outspoken, without caring what he had to say or thought about her opinion, and he was crazy for his first impression of her, as much as he hated to admit it as he'd call 'Love is for posers'. Hobie was sure he was just trying to win her over, to prove a point he'd say, but deep down he loved the way she smiled and shook her head whimsically everytime he'd say something or take time off his schedule to nag her.

It was a few times that she gave Hobie the chance to play with her, to which she soon learnt that he did not know how to read tabs. Of course the punk kid is self-taught. Trying to lead, they would play messy numbers and solos. It was ocasionally just her and Gwen, who had let YN grown onto her sharing her love for girl bands, doing some jamming with their instruments as Hobie payed vague attention. But he would pound on any chance to be alone with her and try to take her out.

She didn't know what was in her that day, but she let him take her out.

He toured her around his universe, before taking her to what he called "his palace". 

The small canal boat was ridiculously a very Hobie place to live. If she were to guess, she'd think he lived in a tree somewhere in Birmingham. However it had it's charm, it was very humid and it wobbled when they walked, but it was unique and she loved it. Hobie showed her the collection of things he had stolen, proving himself to be a brilliant thief. He owed most of his 'talent' to his Spider-Sense and speed, but he'd never bring it up. 

As she sat on the mattress where he slept in, Hobie picked up one of his records, sitting beside her to show her the signed insides of the vinyl. Her eyes paced from the inscriptions to his face, as he ocasionally caught a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. He left the vinyl aside to go on about his encounters with the infuential musicians on the area, how he attempted to steal the microphone the Bowie of his dimension had used when he was touring in his city. Her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips back and forth. 

He was hesitant about making a move, afraid he'd mess up what had taken him so much work. But wasn't even given time to think it through before the proximity between them grew, and her hand softly caressed his bony cheek and down to his neck, inviting him to lean into a kiss. As they made out, his cold piercing was quickly warmed by her damp tongue and soft lips that sucked and kissed his. His hands caressed up and down her waist, undoing the buttons on her blouse with his slender fingers as she revealed her naked torso, no bra underneath. YN did her usual hair flip to watch him undress her, and himself, jumping on her once finished to continue what he had briefly interrupted.

"We won't sink, will we?" She asked between soft giggles as the boat quivered at his abrupt movement, Hobie nibbling down her neck and kissing her chest. 

"I wank pretty crazy here every night, we won't." He teased before crawling backwards, kissing down her navel. 

songs i listened to while working on this:

(ofc) arabella - arctic monkeys

moonage daydream, lady grinning soul and starman - bowie

hey, velouria - pixies

rhiannon, gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman: atsv #hobie brown #hobie atsv #hobie brown atsv #spiderpunk #spider punk #spiderpunk fanfic #spider punk fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x yn #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x oc #spider punk x reader #spiderpunk x reader #Spotify

[mhsdatgo]

Since GOT they’ve been using rape and abuse to humble or break a woman/Girl because they aren’t the “right” kind of woman. They don’t ride a dragon or yield a sword. They don’t fight against their period typical role in life that they were born and raised in. They’re not “A guys girl” or the “I don’t have any girl friends, they’re too much drama” types who prefer the company of men to women, who would rather train with a sword and not learn embroidery. They don’t have dialogue that vaguely sounds more 21st century than Middle Ages.

These women are seen as of less value than our little dragon riding, sword and fist fighting tomboys. So they need to be taught that if you had just been more like this or more like that you wouldn’t have been brutalized and abused. The things that were done to you by other people is all your fault and you deserved it.

This show/franchise is not even in the same room as feminism.

👏👏👏 Nothing more to add anon. No lie was told.

The sad thing is, this is not what I got from the books of asoiaf at all. Women's experience was never told in juxtaposition to others. There is no humbling or brutalizing other women as a "punishment" for not being better, more rebellious, or bolder than others. The books tell stories of suffering and that's it. The way shows and fandoms decide to try and force other characters into another one's story for the sole purpose of comparing them so they prove that stanning one means having a moral high ground over another character's stans is the most idiotic thing to ever have happened among fandoms, to say the least. Especially when the two characters in question don't even know each other.

Just look at the way Sansa and Dany are treated in the fandom. Have a shot for every time Sansa in King's Landing is called a tradwife as if this wasn't a girl in middle school trying to survive they're talking about, or for every time she's called jealous of Dany. Imagine if a stranger girl with three dragons cames knocking on your door demanding that you and all of your people and their mama bend the knee to her and you are the jealous one and the villain because you just... Don't? Also, you deserve to be threatened with death when you pose a reasonable question, and you need to take it and be better and shut up. Then you're a "girls' girl" deserving of respect, etc.

We want strong female characters to think for themselves, except when that "thinking for oneself" isn't the same thing as kissing the ground the fan favourite girl walks on.

If only fandoms paid more mind to what makes a character likeable or unlikeable in their eyes BASED ON THE CHARACTER ITSELF, and not on their perspective on their faves, interacting with them would be way more fun. Books/shows like asoiaf/GOT or F&B/HotD aren't places where you just choose a character you like and that's it, she's an icon she's a legend and she is the moment. If it was, it would either be a story for kids or a hell for Mare Sues' fans. As long as you treat asoiaf characters like deities that can do no wrong and everyone else as villains in need of redemption, you should step back and read something else.

This is something that needs to be accepted even between writers and directors, btw. Just look at what F&B was turned into. Girlboss vs Girlfail. Blacks got the Girlboss, the virtuous rightful heir, good mother fine ruler, Greens' got the Girlfail, the rape enabler, the boy mom, the tradwife, you name it.

No, it doesn't matter that the latter is doing everything she can possibly do. She was a piece of shit the moment she stopped toiling behind the former because everyone is meant to be like or kneel before girlboss with dragon. Only then are your ambitions respectable. If not, fuck you, you're nothing. Everything that happens to you is your fault. I'll be in the front seats cheering for when everything you love is ripped brutally from you.

Even when your grown-up son rapes a maid. Even when girlboss with dragon threatens to put your people to the torch because you won't bend the knee.

TL;DR: There's no need to compare/stone certain female characters for being what they are instead of a completely different type. If all of them were tomboyish with swords or feminine with embroidery, it would be boring. You aren't better than anyone for having preferences. Also, learn how to blame men when they fuck up. It's great for the bowel.

#hotd #got #asoiaf #fire and blood #daenerys targaryen #sansa stark #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

[redpanther23]

ESSENTIAL GAY HISTORY MOVIES (according to me, with a focus on the controversial)

The Wizard of Oz (1939) - Included because I actually met a young queer person who didn't believe me that this is a historical lgbt movie. I'm sorry but if you haven't seen this I'm revoking your gay license.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1972) - Another one I'm including just in case someone hasn't seen it and needs a reminder to do so (I know teenagers read my blog.)

Pink Flamingos (1972) - A John Waters movie. His films are bizarre, gross comedies and unlike any others.

Female Trouble (1974) - Another John Waters feature, this one has one of my favorite lines from any movie, "son, why don't you stop fooling around with these straight women and find yourself a nice queer to settle down with?" (paraphrased)

Desperate Living (1977) - My favorite John Waters picture, this one is bordering on epic fantasy. It's set in a shantytown in the woods, populated by gay criminals, ruled by an evil queen.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975) - Based on a true story about a guy who robbed a bank to pay for his girlfriend's gender reassignment surgery.

The Forbidden Zone (1980) - THE OINGO BOINGO MOVIE. Not only is the soundtrack Danny Elfman's best work (in this writer's humble opinion) but it's also a beautiful movie about love for the controversial and perverse. Obviously it was made by queers and people of color, but they were trying to be offensive, so they do shit like, have characters in blackface, but also black actors, sometimes in the same scene (an artistic choice as confusing to a modern audience as it was when they made it.)

Killer Condom (1996) - A German murder mystery/comedy about a gay cop. Very corny and lighthearted, it feels more like an 80s movie.

Velvet Goldmine (1998) - A sweet and poignant romance between two male rockstars. This one feels like it came from within my own heart.

Cruising (1980) - Another murder mystery, this time centered around a bisexual cop, only this one isn't a comedy. They shot footage in actual gay bondage bars in New York, but the hardcore stuff got cut because I guess god hates us ( lol). You can still tell in some scenes they're really fisting dudes and shit.

The Gay Deceivers (1969) - Two straight men pretend to be a gay couple to dodge the draft. They move to a gay neighborhood and have to blend in with their neighbors.

Feel free to suggest more, I'm sure there's a lot I didn't think of.

#pride #lgbt #gay movies #lgbt movies #lgbt history #movies #red panther speaks

[ofsappho]

Magindara

When invaders threaten your home, life, and people, you, a sirena, strike a desperate bargain with Dream of the Endless to save them all.

Dream of the Endless x mermaid!reader, one shot (for now)

Tags: war, gore, torture, death/murder, mentions of SA, slavery, things that generally come with colonialism

Inspired by the episode “Jibaro” from the Netflix show Love Death + Robots. This one shot draws heavily from Filipino mythology, culture, and history. I ENCOURAGE and INVITE people who don’t come from a Filipino background to read this story and enjoy! There is so much beauty to be had in cultures of color, for everyone. Just as I have read many stories steeped in Greek, Celtic, Norse, medieval England, etc cultures, without coming from those backgrounds, I humbly ask you do the same and entertain this little fic. Thank you. I may write a follow up if there’s interest. Glossary at the end.

-

From the banks of your river, you can hear the horses.

Metal plate clangs and screeches against itself, swords jostle in their sheaths, and shields bump where they rest on armored backs so loud that you want to scratch your sensitive ears out, just to make the sounds stop.

Your ates and kuyas hide deep below in the caverns known only to your kind. When you close your black eyes, you feel them tugging at the edges of your mind like little lights in the deep darkness of the sea. They believe that will be enough to save them.

Only you have braved the surface, because only you know what these strange men upon their strange beasts want.

They want the gold in the dark, fertile earth. You don’t understand why - it’s just shiny metal. Only the dwarves under the hills covet it. But the men who ravage your lands and your kin like wildfires, grasping everything and destroying it in the same breath, care very much. They want the never-dying orchids that line the banks and the brilliant emerald green vitality bursting from every leaf and vine that could keep a mortal alive for a thousand years. They want to feed their glory on your broken bodies. They want to take the people you protect for slaves, the women shamed and disgraced and the men subservient and humiliated.

You’ve seen it for yourself.

You’ve tasted the water of streams running red with blood, the iron like acid on your blue tongue.

You’ve swam farther and seen enough to make you hate. Families torn apart, children with their hair cut off and given names in an ugly language, forbidden to speak their own - the same language you speak. Fathers dragged onto large ships, larger than a butandíng, never to return. Altars burned. The men put your red sisters who live in the balete trees, their hair tangled with vines and lovely, fierce, flickering yellow eyes, to the flame. You witnessed their dying howls and curses for vengeance.

Some of the white-haired annani have already begun to clip their pointed ears, tear the crowns of flowers from their hair, and even cut out their tongues so as to lock away the magic these men desire, never to be spoken again. “There is no place for us,” Those tall, graceful elves told you. “We will be gone in a generation, by sword or by starvation.”

They’re coming.

The jungle is quiet as it has never been in a thousand years.

You could no more hide your tail, glittering blue and turquoise, with long, sweeping fins like ferns, than you could hide the long sweep of hair that reaches your waist, or the ink-black lines embedded on your skin, painting your face, your neck, and your arms with the story of your people and your home.

The calls that echoed from the depths of the river have stopped. It seems that your family has accepted that you won’t come back.

You look at your webbed hands, test your claws against your flesh. What is one magindara to a hundred conquistadors?

When the men spear you, they won’t just be slaughtering a mermaid. They’ll be killing the stories you keep. Centuries of stories. Countless names. Each pearl around your neck is a tribe, full of the old songs of grandmothers and the new rhymes of babies. You’re draped in thousands of shimmering strands of pearls.

You may not be the cleverest, or the most beautiful, or the one with the sweetest voice…

But you can be the bravest.

“Lord Morpheus,” You intone, frowning as the syllables ripple wrong and harsh from your throat.

You’ve never spoken to any of the gods beyond your islands before. “Dream of the Endless.” All you can do is hope and pray this one listens and comes to you in time. Will they be kind? Will it be merciful? Will he, or she, save your home?

Perhaps such a god does not exist at all, and you are praying to wind and sunlight, and soon your guts will color the cerulean water purple and black. The strange men will defile your body, no doubt. A week ago, you crawled from your river to cut down the corpse of a long-gone ate from a stake, jagged holes ripped into the tail of her corpse that made you vomit and her dead eyes full of pain.

Once you’d laid her to rest in the water, she dissolved into nothing. “Prince of Stories,” You sing. That is what faces everything you’ve ever loved if you fail.

“I beg you, save us. Save our stories, our dreams. We call for your aid.”

The men bark at each other. Any moment now, they’ll see you, your hands raised and your face tipped towards the heavens, inky flowers blooming on your forehead and cheeks and crocodile teeth tattooed on the sharp line of your jaw.

A new quiet falls over the world. Like nighttime, when things are resting, not dead.

You have called, and I answer.

A being stands on the banks of your river in the shape of a man. His hair is blacker than Bakunawa’s maw and his eyes are filled with gold and silver stars brighter than any you’ve seen before. His pale skin carries no markings.

He is as grotesquely, menacingly beautiful as the razor’s edge of shark teeth, as a great python curling in a tree, as an eagle with its claws stuck in the beating, bleeding heart of a monkey.

You feel the weight of his gaze on your brow heavier and hotter than the sun on the longest day of summer, burning out the truth in your heart. “I would bargain with you, Dream Lord. For my people, and my land, and my home, which I love more than my own life.”

What would you have me do? When Lord Morpheus speaks, his voice pours through your mind ringing like the purest, clearest freshwater.

The many jewels around your throat, pearls, sapphires, rubies, diamonds, plates of beaten gold, click as you swallow nervously.

The dream king stands so tall that he could touch the sky if he reached up. And he doesn’t look away or blink. You can’t read the inhuman planes of his face whatsoever, you can’t find any familiar sign in his long limbs that might bring comfort. For all you know, you’ve spelled your doom.

“Keep them alive. Keep our names and spirits alive. Bring our stories into your kingdom so that we won’t be forgotten. That is what the men want. They want to raze us to the ground and rebuild the world in their image but we will not go.” You pause. “We will never, ever go,” You growl, fierce and deadly, around a mouth full of fangs. In your words you pour the horrors you’ve seen, combined with the beauty surrounding the two of you.

The hot, muggy air, the warm rain, the scent of night-blooming jasmines. Orange mangoes, bursting with sweetness, bamboo sticks clacking as joyful youths dance in and out of them, laughing gaily. Rolling drums. Bright feathers tucked into black hair. A toddling child reaching out to her grandmother with a chubby-cheeked smile, pressing the back of the withered, ancient hand against her little forehead. Love, so much love.

I have not walked these lands before.

You found traces of Lord Morpheus scribbled in the margins of paper and in the back alleys of lost dreams. Your last and only hope.

When you went to Diyan Masalanta, she wept and showed how the soldiers bound her hands. When you cried out to her brother, Apolaki, the sun god called back and said the invaders took his shield.

Bathala is gone. Mayari is gone. Lakapati is dead. The conquistadors stripped her naked, cut her ribs from her chest, and planted her bones in the fields they set their slaves, your people, to work.

“They say you are Endless. You preside over all beings in all places. Please, I beg you, preside over us. Are we not worthy of your favor? Do we not deserve to live in your dreams and nightmares?”

If Lord Morpheus refuses you, you’ll cut your throat before you let your enemies have you.

He tilts his head like he can hear your thoughts. One shining hand stretches out, almost as if to touch your face. You sing prettily, little siren. You draw back with a start. Why is there hunger in his voice? A hollow, all-consuming, terrifying hunger?

You know what it feels like to starve when the fish are scarce. This is leagues away, a typhoon to your trickle of rain. Shadows bloom under his hollowed cheeks. His pupils eclipse his brilliant aquamarine irises.

He’s-

He’s aching.

Morpheus flashes his bone-white teeth as he bends at the waist to examine you further. His gaze traces your tattoos, your large, frightened eyes, and your body beneath the necklaces and bracelets.

As scared as you are, as convinced that you’ll bleed the instant his fingers brush your blue-streaked skin, your numb lips move.

“I vow to you now, Lord Morpheus, before every god and being I know, that should you render us this aid, I will give you anything within my power to grant that you wish.”

Anything?

“Name it, my lord, and it shall be yours.” With that, your eyes flutter shut as you await his judgment.

You can’t hide from him, even in your mind. You don’t see him, but you feel a straining pressure build where he prods at you, pushing on the fragile edges of your being like he’s cracking a duck egg. He claws and scrapes until-

I will aid your people.

You open for him like a sampaguita flower. Dream of the Endless picks through your soul like he’s picking blossoms, you feel how much he wants with every brush, every long moment where he sticks his fingers in and relishes the feel of you. Nothing has ever touched you like this before.

He’s on his knees on the riverbank, the dark soil pressing into his clothes. His hands clench the rocky edge of the bank. Your wet hair sticks to your back as you rise up, close enough that you can count his night-black eyelashes. There’s a dizzying amount of them.

“Thank you. Thank you. Salamat-po. And your price, majesty?”

You’ll do whatever he wants. Does his thirst demand souls? You’ll harvest them by the dozen. You can picture Lord Morpheus unhinging his jaw, swallowing those soldiers whole. Their swords wouldn’t even scrape him going down. Riches? You have no use for them if you’re dead. He can take every speck of wealth to be had.

You. I want you.

Your sisters and brothers wail. They sense the foreign king tearing at the flesh binding you together. They feel him taking a knife to your indigo heart and cutting it loose from your body. Your head tilts back as you gasp for breath and see him hold the organ aloft. Dark blood trails in rivulets down his wrists.

“I-“

There are no creatures like you in my realm. So I shall have you, in every way that I wish, and you’ll obey. Those are my terms.

Your tail lashes in the water as if you fight hard enough, you can swim away. The cavity pulses with searing, unholy pain. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve summoned- He is an aswang, a devil, a soul-eater, you’ll never see your home again, you’ll never touch the water you’ve known since birth.

Lord Morpheus brings your heart to his mouth. His lips are beautifully-formed. You can’t find it in yourself to hate such a wondrous creature. Even your amethyst ichor looks more beguiling when he’s covered in it.

It was never a question. “Yes, my lord. I accept these terms.”

His white teeth stain purple when he sinks them into your heart.

-

Glossary:

Ate (ah-tey) - sister

Kuya (koo-yah) - brother

Butandíng - whale shark

Balete tree - very cool large tree native to Southeast Asia

Annani - elves from the stories of the Ibanag people, who look like humans with pointed ears. They are kind guardians of the forest and often share healing knowledge with humans if treated with respect.

Magindara - mermaids from the folklore of the Bicolano people. Beautiful half human, half fish guardians of rivers/streams/lakes/the oceans, who sing to lure fisherman and warriors to their death but leave children unharmed.

Bakunawa - a great mythic serpent and god/goddess of darkness. Various myths place Bakunawa responsible for eclipses.

Diyan Masalanta - Tagalog goddess of love, war, childbirth

Apolaki - Tagalog god of the sun and war, patron saint of warriors, soldiers, modern day patron saint of Filipino traditional martial arts (Kali/eskrima/arnis) practitioners

Bathala - the Tagalog supreme creator god

Mayari - the Tagalog goddess of the moon, war, revolution, and justice. She fought her brother Apolaki for dominion over the heavens.

Lakapati - the Tagalog goddess of fertility, food, bounty, balance, and prosperity. She represents both male and female and has both male and female genitalia. Patron saint of queer/trans people.

Sampaguita - the Filipino name for sambac jasmine, the national flower of the Philippines

Salamat-po (sah-lah-maht poh) - thank you (utmost respect) in Tagalog

Aswang - overall name for the malicious/demonic/monstrous beings in Filipino folklore. Vampires, zombies, ghouls, organ eaters, cannibals.

I hope you guys liked this! Let me know if you have any questions or want to read more from this.

#the sandman #magindara #sandman #the sandman comics #sandman comics #the sandman tv show #sandman tv show #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #Dream of the endless #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x you #Morpheus #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader

[hot-astrology]

The Shunned Yoni

We all know creation and birth stems from somewhere. From the most sacred gateways that nature created The womb vagina or ; the female genitalia which symbolizes generative power. The woman is delicate, graceful and loving at same time, forceful, impactful, insightful, and a creator. How can we call this realm mother earth and not think women were here first or the creators only a true creator could create and be humble while their creation becomes egotistical while claiming to be the original archetype From their mesmerizing eyes calming vice diplomatic minds soft touch hypnotic walk and seductive aura. From the spiritual abyss, every angle, precise detail was made to flow with the oceans waves, their calming nature can settle the storms, or be fierce as the storm. So much history and powers lays beneath these ripples in the sea. As the tear drops of sorrow and betrayal fall upon the blueish lake. Shunned no more, openish enters the heart, truth reveals the veil, expressiveness leads way, acceptance is here to stay.

As an active plot to pacify her & her waters, her descendants, her priestesses, her daughters, her initiates, her love, but most disrespectfully her waters. She was made as an extension, and as the image of god. She started in darkness, she is the water they poisoned. Look inside, and you'll see that you are purely her mirror, because you are her. She was demonized, and in the end turned against. Hell hath no fury like a black woman scorned.

The deepest part in you resides, this is the sacrum area. You hold future generations and civilizations within you yet they seek to destroy and disrespect you. Let there be no mistake, that you are the force and the life way past than what science can understand or comprehend. Do you remember? Do you remember your throne, and those you taught. In the end, they turned against you. Used your teachings for their new world, and white washed yours away just for a seat on your throne. There's a part of you that lays deep in the water waiting to be awakened and take back what's hers. They took the seed of life and realized they could not imitate because they did not have it within them. There will be a storm that awakens that seed, she is abrupt and comes like nothing you've ever seen before. Deep Down, we as women have been taught to hide our sexuality or that it was a bad thing. However, these days feminine sexuality has been more accepted, and broadcasted for everyone to see. In a way, this is good but also bad, because the sacredness of this has been corrupted and the true meaning is lost in ignorance.

In the womb, we grow, and develop in water for up to 10 months. Our bodies are mostly water, and the planet we live on resembles this. All Life must be formed through liquid, it is the most fertile, and feminine. Think of a plant without water, and sun, but water especially nothing will sprout. Whether it be alchemy, or astrology, the most feminine elements will be water, and earth. water is the 1st element, signifying its power. water can heal, and destroy you. The yoni is simply a portal, entering into a sea of memory, and mysteries. When we look into the mystery of outer space, galaxies, stars, plane-ts, and black holes. Then you begin to look within yourself, your own body, you see the sayings, "As above, so below" " As within, so without", and the most telling " Your body is a temple". You see the answer manifest, and replicate inside of you.

The power of the yoni, is nothing to be taken lightly, and is actually a symbol of life and death. If all women collectively agreed to stop reproducing, that would simply be the end. For this reason, there has been a demonization placed upon women whether that be our bodies, hair, features, etc.

There is such a huge attack on the water spirits right now. Looking back to the astrological take on this matter, the sign pisces is the last and final sign of the zodiac. This is a water sign. In christianity, the symbol "Vesica Pisces" is a very prominent symbol representing Jesus Christ who "walked on water." Ironically, this symbol represents a fish, and the pisces symbol is a fish. If you look closer at the shape of this symbol, you'll realize this looks similar to the vaginal canal. Pisces is known to be the yin most, and the darkness which the creator resides in. In sacred geometry, there is the flower of life and seed of life, both using the symbol vesica pisces within those shapes. Within all of this, we begin the covering up of our primordial origins, within christianity, and many modern-day religions. the presence of priestesses, goddesses, empresses, and queens have been stripped and burned away. We know by now that the source of creativity, love, and rhythm comes from depths of the darkest waters, which pure yin. So what does that say about the bible or the said authors. let alone, the books, and the most important teachings that have been taken out of the bible, and also many others. This wasn't the only crime, but while erasing her presence, they tried to take away your magic, your creativity, and use your sexuality (which is your ability to manifest, and create) for their gain. As I ponder upon this, I am compelled to question: How many chapters of HIStory are indeed tales of men, or could they be the untold stories of women masked in masculine guise...

To close this out, let your mystical minds wander.... Think about how, in Christianity, to get baptized, you are laid into the waters to be reborn or cleansed from sin. Or, how a woman's water breaks signifying life & birth, or how you couldn't survive without water for more than 2 days.... Things like these make you wonder....

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔: 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐳 || 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢

#astro community #astrology chart #astrology content #astro notes #forbidden astrology #hot astrology #spirituality #spiritual community #astro blog #spiritualgrowth #spiritual awakening #water initiate

[flnpushy]

Helios A New Era: Multiples

Kara was now headed back to her office after assisting Felicity with her birthing experience. As she turned the corridor to enter the lab and office area she was met by Dr. Karens standing in her office doorway. With Dr Karens was a cart loaded with testing instruments and lab equipment. Dr. Karens motioned Kara to come to the office. Kara entered and sat down on her desk chair. Karens stayed standing. It was clear something needed urgent attention in the facility. 

“Ok I am here to fill you in on your next assignment.’ Karens said. “I have been conducting an experiment never before done on Helios. Its been attempted on Alpha Centauri and Martian turf, but never here. Due to the increased demand we need to start playing with the idea of impregnating multiples with our semen impregnation. 13 months ago I began an experiment with two second-time mothers that volunteered. I didn’t want this to be a first birth experience so i needed two mothers with at least some birthing experience. I selected a multiples semen for these women and it took. Both are impregnated with twins. Each baby weighs between 17-19 pounds. Both mothers have been on bedrest for the last 9 months as their bellies are really too big to walk any distance.” Karens briefed. 

“Ok where do I come in?” Kara asked.

“Glad you asked!” Karens said. “Handling two mothers and taking data for both accurately would be impossible. I need you to take the metrics and assist with one mother, while I assist the other. I have sent you instructions for the metrics that we need to take. We will be using all this equipment and taking every measurement and line of data we can. We need to know how to implement this on a large scale. but do it with welfare of the mother and babies in mind.” Karens said.

“Ok i think i can handle this!” Kara exclaimed. 

“Stay humble, we need this data, it’s vital to this facility.” Karens said. “And oh yeah, one more thing , both mothers are in accelerated labor to ensure the babies don’t get any bigger inside them. the should begin the birth process in the next few hours. Get there, and get started. If you need help i will be in the next room over, call for backup if needed.” Karens said as she walked out the office door. 

Kara was excited about this mission. Birthing twins was new for Helios and Kara was always excited to be a part of a new project! She gathered her tools, a bite to eat, and her personal items, grabbed the cart of testing equipment and headed for the mothers room. 

Navigating Helios was a chore in itself. The facility was large…. very large. Over 100 acres in size. It could be seen on the lunar surface from hundreds of miles up in the black space above. Kara however knew most of the facility like clockwork. She walked to her transport scooter, hitched on the cart and sped away. Of course being a vice president scientist had its perks, but it also came with its downfalls. Kara was constantly stopped by mothers with questions as she traveled around. This time was no exception. As kara turned down the Central Hall toward the gardens she was stopped by a pregnant mother asking about her birthing issues. 

“ Hey Kara, ive been in birth now for 3 days and I still cant feel any progress.” The women asked. “Can you check me?” 

“Of course, I am very busy, but I will always make time for a birthing mother!” Kara replied.

Kara got off of the scooter and grabbed her probe. The woman spread her legs. Kara pushed the tip of the probe into the woman’s opening until it stopped. 

“Well found babies head!” Kara said. “Little ways in there yet!” 

The probe gave back its findings. 

“Ok girl, babies doing good. 20 pounder, healthy, coming normally.” Kara reported. 

“ I just cant push her out of there!” The woman said. 

“You will hun, I suggest a birth stool and some hard pushing, She will come, just taking her sweet time!” Kara said. “Any issues, let us know.” 

Kara got back on the scooter and sped off toward the living quarters. 

The living facilities at the station were just as large as the station. Housing 2500 pregnant women as well as staff. All rooms were well equipped, but pregnant mothers rooms were among the finest. Helios wanted absolute comfort for pregnant and birthing mothers. 

Kara turned from the Garden Hall into the living quarters. She then drove onto an elevator. The elevator landed at floor 3. Kara left the lift and headed for 314-S-1M. When she arrived she scanned herself at the airlock door, and made her way into the room. 

Inside the room she saw a woman facing the other direction. She looked to be sleeping. Kara only noticed her blonde hair showing from under the thick white blankets. Kara approached slowly pulling the cart of equipment behind her. The cart suddenly made a clunk on the self-cleaning membrane floor below.

“Oops.” Kara said aloud.

She noticed the woman move. The woman turned and looked. 

“Hello?” She asked faintly. 

“Hello, Im Kara, here to assist you!” Kara said. 

“Karens must have sent you?” The woman asked. 

“Yes, she has appointed me to be your assist, as well as take data.” Kara said. 

“Ok, i am Sara by the way.” She said.

“Good to meet you Sara!” Kara said in return. 

Kara moved over by the bed and got closer to Sara. 

“So you want to see the full me haha?” Sara laughed. 

“Yeah lets see that belly!” Kara said 

Sara pulled back the covers to reveal herself in the bed. Sara was a small framed girl, maybe 5 foot 3. Her belly was massive! Even larger than Kara’s belly when she was impregnated with her 31 pound record baby!

“Wow two big babies in there!” Kara said surprised. 

“Yeah, i really haven’t moved much now in a couple months. Im just too big” Sara said. 

“This is your second time birthing right?” Kara asked. 

“Yeah second time, Thank goodness. Imagine pushing out two 19 pound babies for your first time?” Sara remarked.

“Yeah that would be crazy!” Kara said. 

“Have you started contractions?” Kara asked.

“Yes, been in labor now for a week, Im supposed to start pushing in the next hours.” Sara said. 

“Well are you ready?” Kara asked. 

“Yes! I want to get these babies out!” Sara said acting exhausted from supporting the babies in her belly. 

“Ok, well lets get you hooked up to the testing equipment and get you ready to do some pushing!” Kara said. 

“Karens warned me there would be a lot of testing and instruments.” Sara remarked.

“Yes there will be.” Kara replied. 

“Ok, I agreed to this haha!” Sara said. 

“Ok hun, lets have you raise up your top leg, you can stay side laying.” Kara said. 

Sara lifted her top leg and held it up. This opened her vagina area for Kara to begin working with the testing equipment. 

First Kara took a monitoring probe and put it in Sara’s opening. This was designed to come out as the baby did and keep track of many metrics including, the health of the baby, positioning, pushing force and exertion, movements of the baby, and more. The probe was now against the cervix which was dilated fully and ready for Sara to push! The next tool was attached to Sara’s belly with medical tape to monitor contractions and baby movements. Kara then loaded the devices which all of course were wireless. This was the year 3150, there were no cables! Kara took initial notes on her findings. Baby number ones head was now opening the cervix. It was time for this event to happen. However Kara knew birthing both babies could take several days. This wasn’t normally an issue, but with twins, this gave more time for baby number two to grow even larger while baby number one was being pushed out.

“Ok Sara lets have you try some pushing!” Kara said. “I want to test the equipment and make sure all is well.” 

Sara breathed in and made a grunt as she began her first push. Kara noted that the instruments were indeed working well, but she was worried. Sara’s push exertion was quite low despite putting obvious effort into her push. Kara knew this was to be a long birth.

As Sara wrapped up her first push she was still contracting. She bore down once more. Kara could see activity in her large belly. Baby number two was still fully in the womb and kicking around. Meanwhile baby number one’s head was starting to move through the cervix and into the vagina for Sara to start pushing it free. Sara was averaging a contraction every few minutes and according to the instrumentation was making slow progress. The pressure sensor that Kara had inserted was now touching the babies head. The sensor would then attach lightly to the head so that all metrics could be monitored, even if the baby slipped back. 

Two hours had passed now and Sara was still actively pushing. She was pushing hard, almost as hard as she could muster, but baby number one wasn’t moving. The head was now through the cervix but had been for an hour. Another 45 minutes passed. 

“Is he moving in there at all?” Sara asked.

“Yes, he’s moving, but slowly.” Kara said. 

“Well baby number two sure is active, i can feel him kicking and squirming wanting to get out!” Sara said. 

“Sorry baby 2 but baby one has to come out first!” Kara said. 

Kara was actively logging data as Sara pushed. Another 2 hours passed. Finally some progress was happening. When Sara pushed Kara noticed her perineum area bulging. This meant baby was getting close to making an appearance. Sara was toughing it out and she had been continually in the same position for hours now. Finally Sara Tired of her position and asked to be moved to a birth stool. Kara helped guide her safely to a birth stool in the room. Sara sat down and got comfortable. The birth stool opening was wide and this caused Sara’s smaller hips to sink in a bit. She Made a couple pushes.

“Im worried that the additional pressure from your seating position may restrict the baby from coming out.” Kara said. 

Kara decided that Sara needed to change position once more. It was decided that Sara had no choice but to lay on her back and push. Her belly was simply too big, and her hips to small to allow many other options.

Another 2 hours passed. Sara was still pushing triumphantly, but progress was crazy slow.  Finally Kara noticed movement of her opening as Sara gave a push. Kara noticed the lip of her labia curl out slightly with the push. The babies head was just inside now. Kara’s data instruments were constantly logging data of the birthing action. The biggest metric being logged was that of pushing force and how much it made the baby move. The lower the force the less baby should move, the higher the force the move movement that should occur. A big push with no movement was recorded as a struggle. The second was the data from the second baby. If the second baby was in too long it would continue to grow in size making it even harder to push out. With a decent diet from mom, the babies she carried could grow 1/4 pound to 1/2 pound per day inside. 

Sara’s next push yielded results. As she pushed she could see a tiny sliver of the head appear in the opening. It was surrounded by the bag of waters that still had not broken. It was likely this baby could be born in the sac. The little head wiggled from side to side before being sucked back in Sara’s belly. Sara’s tummy was a hive of activity. Baby number 2 was still kicking and squirming for a chance to get out. Meanwhile baby one with its head now in Sara’s vagina was kicking and having its own struggle trying to get unstuck and out of Sara. 

“Oh somethings happening…!” Sara said. “It feels different now.” 

Sara pushed a few times with nothing to show for it. However the next push brought forth the Sac. Sara pushed again and the sac came out. The sac was large and fluid filled, it dangled from Sara’s opening. 

“I need to stand.” Sara requested. 

“Ok what ever feels best for you.” Kara replied. 

Sara stood up carefully as to not disturb the sac that was hanging out of her. As she stood more sac came out and now dangled around 8 inches out of Sara’s opening. It was very full of opaque colored fluid. As Sara stood the sac wiggled and jiggled about. Sara took a couple steps but as she did the sac slapped the inside of her thighs. 

“Oh that tickles!” Sara said. 

“It must feel really weird.” Kara replied.

Sara made a couple pushes standing up but nothing much really progressed. 10 minutes later Sara laid back in bed. The sac still hanging below her opening. 

“Data alert.” One of Kara’s instruments said aloud.

“Hmmm let's see what going on here.” Kara said. 

“Baby 2 has gained 1/2 pound in last 24 hours.” The display read.

“We need to get baby one progressing.” Kara said.

“Im trying the best I can.” Sara said. 

“I know hun, but I’m worried about baby number 2 getting bigger in there.” Kara said. Sara made more pushes and Kara noticed her bulging. 

“Lets take a look in there.” Kara said. 

Kara moved over from the side of the birth bed to Sara’s open legs. She used both hands and spread open Sara’s labia. There, about 1.5 inches in was a tuft of babies hair. Kara let go and watched as the skin around the babies head closed and sealed it back in Sara’s vagina. The reality was is not much progress had been made in 12 hours. 

Sara continued to make pushes for another 4 hours till finally a small breakthrough. Kara watched intently as Sara grunted a large push, Sara could feel what was happening in her opening and knew the babies head was about to make its first appearance. 

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHMMMMMM!” Sara grunted.

“Good Good!” Kara said. 

A small tuft of babies hair poked out from Sara’s vagina. The push ended and the head was immediately sucked back in her belly. It was frustrating, but good to see progress. Time continued on and Kara kept taking notes and data. 

11:00 - Baby makes small appearance, withdraws. 

11:10 - Small bit of head comes forth, withdraws

11:15 - Mother closes legs and takes break. Baby assumed withdrawn.

11:30 - pushing actively, no head 

11:50 - head appears 

11:52 - head goes back in. 

12:10 - pushing 

12:12 - head appears

12:13 - head slips back 

12:20 - head visible with push 

12:22 - head slips back in 

The time continued to trickle by as Sara continued struggling to get baby number 1 out. Another 4 hours passed. Kara noted over 100 notes of slip ins and pushes in this time. It was clear that Sara was truly struggling to get the first baby to come out. Baby number 2 continued to wiggle around in the womb and grow, while its brother remained stuck in the birth canal. Sara helplessly continued to push to free baby number 1, but it was making zero progress besides slipping back in. Baby one was wiggling and kicking as Sara pushed in an effort to free itself from Sara. She could feel its kicks as it made desperate attempts to free itself. But it was no help, the baby was stuck, or simply to big to fit. Sara desperately needed to stretch more in order to free the baby. 

“You need to stand and walk.” Kara said. “We need to make room or get baby one to free up in there.” 

Sara struggled to get on her feet as her massive belly protruded from her small frame. Kara watched the babies head slip back in as Sara got up. The baby was once again sealed inside. Sara got on her feet and began to walk around a bit. She paced the room slowly, moving her hips and wiggling in attempt to get baby number one to come free. Meanwhile baby 2 was moving frantically in the belly. Kara could see it kicking rapidly, It also desperately wanted to come out. Sara positioned herself at a seat bar in the room after pacing for a bout 20 minutes. It was time to see if he walking had helped. She squatted down into full push. Sara continued pushing for a few minutes until finally baby one made an appearance in her vaginal opening. It stayed there momentarily until it slipped back in. 

“GET IT OUT!!” Sara yelped. 

Sara had finally become impatient She made a desperate push.

“AAAHHHHHHHHHGGGGG!!” She yelled.

The head made a quick appearance then slowly went back in.

“I cant do it Kara.” Sara admitted. 

“Um you don’t really have a choice Sara, You have 2 babies in you that need to come out.” Kara said. 

“Is there anything you can do?” Sara asked.

“No, you can only get the babies out under your own power.” Kara replied. 

Sara returned to pushing. After another hour the babies head was now staying down. The top of the head was now poking out a little ways. It was progress. Another hour passed and no matter the push, the babies head didn’t budge. The head remained poking out slightly. Kara received another update to her system link. Baby number 2 inside Sara’s tummy had gained another half pound in weight. Baby number two was getting only bigger, and harder to push out. Things were about to get worse for Sara. Another strong contraction came and Sara pushed hard. She felt a very painful searing sensation from her belly. 

“Ahhhh ouch ahhhh!” Sara yelped in pain. 

Kara’s sensors went mad with updates. Baby 2 had turned breech. 

This wasn’t a big deal however considering breech births were common on Helios. Sara was about to receive a break. After an additional hour of pushing she was actually beginning to crown. Sara was stretched to the max, the skin around the babies tightly held head was white with the pressure. Sara gathered up and made one massive push. The head popped free! Still riding the wave she pushed again popping one shoulder out. The other followed. This was super rare. Usually with a 20 pound baby the shoulders could take 12-24 hours to come out! This was rare, but Sara was delighted by it. Baby one was now out and taken to the next facility by helios security. Now it was time for baby number 2.

Baby number 2 was now almost 22 pounds and was turned breech. It looked like a tough go for Sara. However within a few hours of baby one. Baby 2 was moving its way into the birth canal feet first. Sara was getting strong contractions, but not needing to push much to advance the large baby. Another 4 hours passed. Finally it was pushing time for baby number 2. Sara now free of one baby felt more active and able to move around easier. She moved to an all 4s position on the bed to begin the pushes. Sara was beginning to have some effect on moving the 22 pound baby through her birth canal. Within 3 hours the baby had gone from in the belly to having its feet in the vaginal canal through the cervix. It was only a matter of time until the baby would be making its first appearance. Another hour of constant pushing came and went. Then finally.

“We have a foot!” Kara said as Sara grunts through a push.

Sara kept pushing until the contraction ended. The foot was sucked back inside. The next contraction brought the foot forth once more. Only to be pulled back in with the end of the push. A few pushes later, and a few more foot sightings, the second foot began to emerge as Sara contracted. After a couple more pushes, the legs emerged to the knees. A couple more contractions did nothing to progress, but finally the legs turned into a waist, and eventually the belly came out. Now just the shoulders and head remained in Sara’s birth canal. The shoulders were no big deal, two more pushes had them out. Now just babies head was inside. Sara worked at it a bit but without much luck. Being stretched out from baby one was helping progress, but the head was quite large. It would be a stretch to get it out. As Sara struggled the baby attempted to help. The baby, with its head still stuck in Sara, began wiggling around its legs and arms attempting to free itself. A few moments passed. It was decided that Sara needed to change position to assist the head out. Kara helped her onto a birth stool. The babies body hung below her as she stood up to make the move. Then baby continued to wiggle around. Sara sat on the stool and began pushing once more. The lower head was now coming a bit. Sara pushed hard and it came some more. Another 20 minutes passed. One more push had it. The baby came free and the experiment was complete. Kara had successfully tracked one more experiment. 

#birth #birth kink #giving birth #crowning #pregnancy #pregnant #birth denial #birth story #breech #scifi birth

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙄𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙏𝙤 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚? | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙉𝙞𝙣𝙚

WICKED EYES

🦋 — Read all the previous parts!

🩸— This is a dark romance with descriptions of violence, gore, racism, sexism, and NSFW themes. The reader is black in this AU but this story can be enjoyed by all walks of life. This chapter contains manipulation. (no smut, no gore)

Art Link Dividers 3.3k words

“(y/n), tell me, what does it mean to live?” 

You froze in the middle of your actions. “Dio, what are you talking about?” You furrowed your eyes with concern. He didn’t exactly adorn his typical cunning look, but instead, more sullen. His thumb rubbed your inner waist tenderly as he held you.

It had been an indeterminate amount of time since your lustful night with Dio. Being held captive here with a stand user warping the mansion to prevent your escape made you lose track of time. You had gotten Dio to soften up by offering your body to him from time to time. But sometimes, your body isn't enough. To him, you weren’t just a body; a means to an end for his sexual gratification. You were a person, with a mind, and he wanted to know your thoughts. Your personality and intelligence are why he’s chased after you for so long. After all, his goal was to make you more like him. Today, he humbly requested that you sit on his lap and feed him desserts in an attempt to bond with you. It was him trying to follow Pucci’s advice for being a good husband but failing to make any sacrifices on his own part.

“You’ve walked free for 100 years. I want you to tell me what it means to live.” He reiterated. “I asked Enyaba but her answer was worthless to me.” You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Worthless?” You stuck the fork you had been using to feed Dio into the slice of cake you were sharing. A sigh left your lips. “Why didn’t you like her answer?” You tilted your head. Dio rested his head in his other palm. “Because, how would an old hag like her know what it means to live? I could just ask the undying beauty in front of me.” You expected his mouth to curl into a sly grin as usual. You expected his eyes to narrow at you like you were a piece of meat but—he didn’t.

Dio’s face was somewhat neutral as if he were trying to think. It was almost—cute. Perhaps, you should try to humor him…for once.

“To live is to be happy. To be free.” You told him, somewhat thinking of yourself. You were trapped and hopefully, he’d get the message.

His nose crinkled up upon hearing your words. You feared he didn’t like your answer either. What was he expecting? You gave context, hoping that it would make him feel a bit better since he wasn’t exactly getting what you meant.

“While I was by myself, I did things that made me happy. New things that I didn’t even know I could be good at. Like singing.” You smiled softly, thinking back to your days when you’d go by many different identities to keep making new music.

“Singing? How boring.” Your husband rolled his eyes and shifted his weight in his chair so that he was now looking away from you. Your smile faded and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What’s boring is being trapped in a coffin for 100 years at the bottom of the sea!”

“Well, Darling, I didn’t have a choice. You did and you chose to entertain others. I want to hear more about your gluttonous adventures.” Dio began to smirk. He seemed to only be interested in what he liked and not what you liked. It sort of made you sad causing your neutral mouth into a frown. Your relationship was always just you trying to appease him and then he helps himself to whatever he wants, whether it be other women when you deny him, your attention, or your body when you’d finally give in.

“They weren’t ‘gluttonous adventures’ okay? I just can’t control myself sometimes—it seems.” Your gaze shifted to the ground. You were somewhat ashamed of your behavior. The more you tried to stop yourself from being a monster, the stronger that monster became. You heard Dio ‘hmph!’ next to you. “Well, for starters, you can stop starving yourself and feed freely.” His eyes returned to you before he instinctively got angry. 

“And if you didn’t know, you can always feed like this…” He raised his hand to your neck. His large hand wrapped around your dainty throat. His claws entered your skin but it didn’t hurt. “…so when it comes to feasting on those beneath me, use your hands and reserve your lips for me.”

“You’re certainly one to demand exclusivity while you go around and impregnate other women.” You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the newfound anger any time you thought of his unfaithfulness. Dio’s smirk returned to his handsome face. “Should I have punished you some other way? I would’ve taken your womb by force but…I already have it.” He chuckled darkly. He waited with anticipation of his first child with you. It would be just one of many and they would grow up to rule the world, just like him. He just hoped that they wouldn’t take after their stubborn mother. The last thing he needed were lions that had soft hearts like sheep. 

“And you’re oddly proud of taking away my autonomy.” Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. You still didn’t like the language he used when talking to you…but that wasn’t a "you" problem. It was a Dio problem.

You had begun to lift yourself off of him only to be pulled back down. He secured his hand around your waist even further. “Oh, don’t you even think of leaving me yet.”

Dio leaned close. So close that his nose brushed yours. A smirk was plastered on his face and, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss you…and you could tell he wanted to. His eyes were set on your plush lips that were already chapped from his excessive urge to press his lips to yours.

For a moment, it did seem like he’d kiss you until he pulled away. His eyes grew cold and he seemed annoyed that he needed to rip them away from your beauty. He looked around the room as if he heard something.

Enyaba suddenly entered the room. She mentioned something cryptic to Dio. Something about training the power of his stand. What power? The only thing you could call back to was your repeating actions the day you tried to leave him again.

His anger melted away before he released you. “I’ll come find you again.” He said as you got up from his lap. You wanted to ask what exactly he’d be gone for but you knew he wouldn’t answer you. The only way to find out would be to pry the information out of a servant..or use your stand on them.

You flashed him a charming smile. A smile that caused him to blush.

“Okay. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Oh. So that’s what it meant to live.

Your smile. Your approval. Your happiness.

Your attention. Your body. Your mind. Your soul.

Your…everything.

Your motherly instincts made you check on Petshop. The sweet bird was just as loving as ever. Although you loved him, you couldn’t help but wonder why Dio chose a bird and not something like a cat or…dog. It felt as though he was mocking you—almost. You felt like a small bird in a cage of bones. A trap with no return. But Dio’s gift to you was a large bird. One that was free and could fly wherever it wanted. It would go out every day but return back to you with free will. Just thinking about it made your eyes fill with tears.

But before you could cry…you noticed something particular about Petshop. On his talons were…ice shards? At first, it didn’t mean anything but then you remember that you were in the middle of Egypt. It was much too hot for ice to last, let alone form at all. The bird allowed you to remove them but you’d surely bring this up to Dio later. You couldn’t help but feel like he was keeping things from you. Pet shop was beautiful but you couldn’t help but wonder where he came from. It was also clear that Petshop wasn’t an ordinary bird. He was somewhat larger than any bird you’d ever seen and despite being gentle with you, it looked ferocious. It had to be a while animal…

It was enough faking your happiness. What you really wanted was to find out how Joseph and his grandson were doing. Judging by the obvious, the boys must be successfully defeating Dio’s minions. The only other people who were close to you and Dio in the mansion were Enyaba and Pucci. In reality, he was more of a “friend” to Dio than to you but he often extended his kindness to you as well. You didn’t have any friends here. Dio’s minions “worshipped” you but the person who ultimately listened to was Dio. Any one of them would turn on you at the drop of a hat.

Some time had passed when you were with Petshop. You were mesmerized by your stand. She was so beautiful and although she looked like a humanoid creature, it felt the same as looking in a mirror when you saw her. You wished that you could fully understand her power. Enyaba refused to help you by orders of Dio and he had isolated you so much that you didn’t get to exercise your power at all. 

That was until…

“Lady (y/n)…?”

An unknown person has entered Dio’s private study. Petshop’s relaxed body was not at attention, ready to attack anyone who dared come to hurt his owner.

“Yes?”

You were lying down in Dio’s oversized armchair by yourself when they had come in. You sat up, unable to make out the figure in the darkness. The voice and build let you know that it was a man but it wasn’t anyone you had recognized. As the man got closer, he gasped upon seeing you.

“You’re just as beautiful as Lord Dio described.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Who are you?” You questioned, seeing the person who came from the dark. It was a tall man with white skin. He was paler than Dio and he had brown hair. His outfit consisted of a purple jacket and leotard decorated with a similar heart motif that your husband’s new yellow clothes adorned. The ones that Enyaba had just begun tailoring for him.

“Please, my lady, call me Vanilla Ice.” The odd man got on his knees, clasping his hands together as if he were begging for mercy. “Lord Dio has assigned me to be your personal servant from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised. “My personal servant?”

Petshop observed your body language before going back to rest. It seems Vanilla Ice wasn’t a threat.

“Why would Dio send you now? I don’t need to be served.” You crossed your arms. Somehow, you felt less sympathy the more often you saw Dio’s minions. Perhaps, you were jaded from knowing Dio all your life because you couldn’t understand how he was able to charm so many when he was barely charming in your opinion.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Lord Dio insisted. I am not allowed to let you out of my sight.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Out of your sight? For what purpose?” You crossed your arms. “Explain yourself.”

Vanilla Ice began to sweat. You could see the droplets forming on his forehead. “M-My Lord has told me that I shouldn’t burden you with such details…”

“What? I just spoke to him. Take me to where he is right now.” You commanded, making the servant’s expression worsen. “But—” The man took a step closer to you.

“Now.” 

“Lord Dio doesn’t believe you should leave this room anymore. He’s told me that you may be jeopardizing his future plans.”

He was trying to lock you away again, huh? Well, you wouldn’t allow that. Especially not in this hot Egyptian Heat. 

“I don’t care! Take me to him right now or I’ll find him myself.” Just as you finished speaking, you felt a sense of regret. You didn’t know this man. Perhaps, you shouldn’t have yelled at him…but what is done is done.

Unbeknownst to you, Dio was only just training to harness the power of his stand, but he was taking time to create insurance for you and himself, solidifying the chances of his return. He knew you didn’t approve of his relationship with Pucci. You’d never stop pestering him about it and he didn’t want to risk your stand undoing any progress he’s made in grooming the boy into doing exactly what he wants.

Vanilla Ice couldn’t help but get antsy. He felt as though failing Dio’s orders would get him on his bad side.

Upon taking you to Dio, you saw that this room was much darker than most. Enyaba was there as well. If you were being honest, you began to dislike her. She filled Dio’s head with disgusting thoughts of plot and murder. You felt as though any progress you made in your relationship with him was undone by her. It made you want to kill her. That feeble old woman. 

“Oh? And what is this?” Dio’s voice held an innocuous tone. He didn’t see upset that Vanilla Ice couldn’t so easily contain you. Around his hands were purple vines with thorns. They looked slightly out of place as if they weren’t real. At least, you hoped that your husband wasn’t actually sprouting vines from his forearms. “I am NOT letting you lock me up again.” You hissed as you pushed your way into the room, disregarding anyone who may be watching. No matter how angry you’d get, Dio hardly saw you as a threat. He could even admit that he enjoyed it when you clashed with him. The thought of a pretty rose poking him with thorns kept him on his toes. No matter what, you fueled his love for you and his ego.

Perhaps, Ice was the wrong person for the job. 

“That’s fine. I won’t lock you away.” Dio manipulated his voice to sound inviting. Maybe he made a mistake. The two of you were doing so well together. The vibes that surrounded his hands and forearms grew and they subtly made their way over to you. Instinctively, you took a step back, not yet familiar with the variety of stand powers due to Dio’s constant sheltering of you and withholding secrets.

You backed into the chest of a large man. He held you by your shoulders, not allowing you to escape. The vines wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to Dio.

You weren’t able to resist the sensation filling your body right now. It was from the vines. You reached down to try to remove them but that only made them hug your waist tighter. A smug look covered Dio’s visage. He waited until your bodies were only inches away before he spoke.

“What is your stand power? As my wife, you must answer and you must do it truthfully.” His hands settled on either side of your waist as the ethereal plants layered themselves around you. 

You had no idea what Dio was referring to…

You didn’t know what your stand did. You just talked to people and things happened.

Dio’s eyebrows knitted together slightly at your hesitation. He opened his mouth to speak but you finally spoke first.

“Mother’s Mercy can cause its targets to make better decisions.”

The man raised an eyebrow. His fingers squeezed slightly before pulling you a bit more forward. “What else? Is that it?” He asked you. Well, more so, he asked Hermit Purple. The stand was forcing you to give information. “Better decisions?” He repeated. In a fit of frustration, he let you go. He stepped away from you and his face became one of disgust. “How worthless.” 

A stand is a manifestation of the soul. You were his Queen, his Goddess who would rule alongside him. So, why has the universe granted you such a gentle stand?

“Enyaba, can I shoot her again? Would that give her a more ruthless power?” 

The old woman shook her head. “Shooting the arrow again would not have any chance of improving her granted abilities and it could disrupt the pregnancy.” She grumbled, pointing her walking stick at your belly. It was protruding a little bit. Weeks have passed since you got pregnant and now you are beginning to show.

“No, Dio, please. Not again.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse and you shook your head, recalling the pain you were in when you were first shot with the stand arrow. It felt like you had been boiled alive. The sensations were unnatural. Even with your vampire augmentation, you were unable to resist its torture.

“What good is a stand that makes my associates join my enemy? I should just lock you up and be done with it.” He began to pace around the room. “Show her out.” 

You felt Vanilla Ice tug on you but you didn’t budge. Snatching your shoulder away from him, you stepped towards your husband. “I am not going back to that room. I’m not staying locked up. I want you to stop this and call off your henchman from attacking Joseph and his grandson.”

Dio didn’t turn to address you. “And why would I do that?”

“Because, they didn’t do anything to you, Dio.” Your furrowed your eyebrows. A “tsk” sound left his mouth once you said that. 

“Do you know what Jonathan did to me…?” His tone shifted. He sounded hurt but angered as well. Dio strode over to you and grabbed your delicate hand with force. He raised it to his neck and your fingertips tips grazed the scarred issue that kept his severed head on that stolen body. “He did this. On the night of our wedding.”

“What was supposed to be the most special night of my life that I waited years for…” He let go of your hand and you let it fall to your side. You couldn’t tell if he was being vulnerable or arrogant but it seemed personal. 

While Dio might've felt like you were the only woman to ever understand him, the reality was that you didn’t. You were just able to adapt well to his unstable personality. Perhaps, that’s why he clung to you like this. Maybe, he knew and simply didn’t care if the two of you understood each other. Maybe…all that matters to him is that he could be himself and you couldn’t run away.

“So, you’re going to kill a random child because you feuded with Jonathan?” Your thumb ran over the tip of your index and ring finger.

Already, you memorized the feeling of his scars. You barely touched them. You never wanted to even though it was clear Dio yearned for it. He was too prideful to beg for it too. You didn’t want to acknowledge the confusing reality that you could be having the child of Jonathan. It made your heart want to burst. It made you want to disappear.

“Jotaro Kujo isn’t a random child. I want to destroy what’s left of the Joestars…” He made Hermit Purple appear again. “And if my minions can’t dispose of him then what better way than to do it with Jonathan’s body?”

The stand snaked up your arm and you could feel its imaginary thorns sinking into your skin. “And if you love me, you’d understand. Do you love your God?”

The same sensation from before took control of your body. So many things ran through your head but you couldn’t form any speech. “E-Erm…” you purse your lips but soon find yourself unable to make eye contact with Dio. His face became increasingly more alert. His pupils retracted as his eyes widened.

Hermit Purple vanished. You couldn’t answer even while being forced to talk.

“Get her out of my sight and take her back to her room. If she resists, use force.”

hey. thx for the wait.

@z3r0art

i cant remember if someone else was supposed to be tagged so pls let me know if you're missed.

#the bride of dio #fluff #reader insert #dio imagines #dio x reader #dio headcanons #dio fanfiction #dio brando x reader #dio brando #jojo headcanons #jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Jojo Part 3 #dark romance #dio brando x black reader #dio brando imagines #dio brando headcanons #Jojikawa

[thelittleliars]

P.S. I Want You | Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of being sober (alcohol), fluff?

Words: 2.8K

AN: I updated the schedule for this series in the Masterlist post so check it out if you want to know when to expect something! P.S. I Want You Masterlist

You don't easily sweat but today was just so hot that it was almost impossible not to sweat under these weather conditions. It didn't help that you were on the road with your bicycle. You easily could have walked the distance from your apartment to the great market hall or taken the metro but somehow your bike seemed to be the best option that morning. You arrived with hot flesh, sweaty armpits and being out of breath at the gate to your apartment. The heat got to your brain fast, it messed with your brain so much that you almost forgot the code to open the gate door. After messily punching in the code you lifted up your bike and walked the one step up and through the door. It was a struggle to get inside with your bike being heavy and the open bag hanging on your wrist. You sighed in relief, finally back home after a long day in this hell of a heat. 

The day got longer though as soon when a person bumped into you, making you loose your balance and letting your bag fall to the ground. Your fruits and the postcards you bought for your family were now all scattered onto the floor. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." The woman who bumped into you apologized. She immediately kneeled down and helped you pick your up your stuff. "It's alright. The weather is making us all a bit-" You stopped talking the second you looked at the woman in front of you. Even though she looked very stressed and in a hurry, her beauty was something else and it just took your breath away. The red hair was nothing you had ever seen before, the same with those stunning green eyes of hers. Words didn't seem like words anymore. All you did was staring at her with a blush arising on your face when you saw her stare at you too. "Hurry up, sestra!" Both of you turned your heads towards the direction the voice came from. There stood a shortish girl with blonde hair. She wore grayish-black pants, a white tank top and a grey suit jacket on top. A one strap backpack was hanging from her shoulders. You turned your attention back to putting the rest of your stuff back in your bag and then standing up. The redhead also stood up, still having some of your postcards in her hand when she looked back into your eyes. "This might not be my best idea to ask but is there a chance you could hide us in your apartment for a bit?" You wanted to say no since your parents always taught you stranger danger but the desperation you saw in her eyes made you give in.

"Get on that elevator to the first floor and wait for me there. I gotta lock up my bike first." They both walked towards the elevator, arguing in what seemed russian to you while you went further in the building and locked your bike up. When you arrived on the first floor the two women stood there in silence. As you walked towards your apartment door you swore you could feel eyes on, you hated that feeling so much, it made you extremely nervous. Once inside the apartment, the redhead handed you the postcards with a small smile on her lips. "Thank you." You nodded. "I'm Natasha and this is Yelena." Natasha didn't know why but she had the need to tell you her real name and not just a made up name. Telling you the truth was important to her. "I'm Y/N. Welcome to my humble home. Do you want anything? Water, coffee, tea..?"

After Yelena took a stroll through your apartment she asked if you had anything alcoholic in the house. "No sorry. I only just got sober so I don't have anything anymore." She then settled on a glass of water which you happily gave her. You turned to Natasha who just shrugged off her black leather jacket, asking her too if she wanted anything. "A coffee would be nice." You took on last look at her form, gulping at the sight of her boobs that were now visible thanks to the black t-shirt she wore underneath that jacket, then went into your tiny kitchen to make her coffee. Breathe, you have to breathe. She'll be gone soon so don't get anything in your head. 

You took her coffee in one hand and a bunch of paper with a pen in your other hand. While the two women were sitting on your sofa, you made yourself comfortable, sitting cross legged on the chair at the table that you put in your living room. It was basically your kitchen table just in a different room. They were once again talking in a language you didn't know but you also didn't mind. Instead you took the paper and started writing a letter for your best friend. Non of your family and old friends lived here in Budapest with you. It was such a mess back home that one day you decided to move away. A move to a different state wouldn't have made any differences, you needed to move to another country for the abuse from your family to finally stop. You were just finished with the letter when the voice of Natasha's rang out to you. "I noticed you bought a lot of postcards earlier and now I saw them on a wall in your other room. Do you like to collect them?"

The sight of Natasha standing there with her arms leaning on one of your chairs was not something you were ready to see. It felt as if she had a spell on you. You were mesmerized by every single thing she did. You smiled sadly at the thought of why you even started your collection. "Yeah. It's just always a nice reminder of your stay in the city. One of my best friends collects magnets but it's not for me since they can easily break on your way home." The other woman nodded in agreement. "But I have to say that the magnets here are the most beautiful I've ever seen. Anyways.. do you guys need to stay the night here?" Yelena was already taking a nap on your sofa, you imagined that Natasha also must be exhausted. "If that's not too much trouble for you?" For a complete stranger she was being too nice and cute in your opinion. Sadly she was too good to be true. "Let me make the bed for you two. I'll take the sofa." Your grandpa was probably tossing and turning in his grave right now by your stupidity of letting these girls stay with you. They could be criminals for all you knew but one look at them and all your carefulness and awareness for danger flew right out of the window. 

After the bed was done being made by you, they thanked you both and went there to rest. You took a book from your bookshelf before retreating on the sofa to read for the rest of the evening and night. Later that night Natasha came out of the room looking incredible tired. "Ohh, you're still awake." She said with fake surprise that you didn't notice. She didn't want you to know that she still heard you turning the pages of your book. "It's a great book." Was all the information you gave her. She saw right through you thought, how could she not, she was a trained spy after all. "Can't sleep?" You sighed and let your guard down. "Bad case of insomnia. What about you?" Her eyebrows soften up. She knew how awful insomnia could get. "Nightmares." You drew in your feet to make space for her to sit. "I can't help but wonder if you're Hungarian or moved her for different reasons." You almost couldn't answer her after looking into her stunning eyes once again. This won't end well for you if you keep getting distracted by her. "I think my wall of postcards and my great range of only english books on my shelf gives away that I am in fact not Hungarian. You're also not from here nor are you completely english, so which nationality are you?" Natasha was split into two, one half of her wanted to be tell you as little as possible, the other half wanted to be open with you since she felt a strange connection with you. You saw the struggle on her face so you were about to change the topic when she answered the question. "I'm from Russia." As far as she knew. "I'm assuming your partner is from there too?" She was taken aback, she somehow interpreted you saying "your partner" in a romantic sense and not as a companion. "M-my partner? That's my sister. I haven't had the time for romance yet." You couldn't believe that a stunning women like her was still single even with the whole no time thing. "For me it was always that you'll find romance when you expect it at least. So maybe it'll be soon for you even if you don't have the time yet." 

"My job is standing in the way. The last girl I dated accused me of being married with my job more than taking time for her." You see a longing in her eyes. Longing for somebody to love, for somebody to be hers. You knew the feeling of longing for somebody too well. The emptiness in your chest never leaves you alone. "What is your job?" She whispered the word Agent, as if she's embarrassed about it. You didn't know that she only said the half truth. It was the truth that she once was an Agent but SHIELD fell two years ago, on top of that she just wasn't one anymore once she joined the avengers. "She should try dating a CEO, then she'd know what it means to be married to the job." You snorted. "That would be hard since there are not enough queer woman in a ceo position for her to date." You nodded in agreement. "There are not enough queer women in general for my taste." 

"So.. what's your taste in women? What is your type?" How badly you wanted to tell her that she was your type but you shook your head instead and told her you got no type. Your were awful at flirting so you don't even start with her. She of course picked up on the lack of your flirting, it was disappointing but she hoped it was only a bit oblivious for you.  "Listen, I honestly think that I don't have a type but I can be really picky at times. Maybe that's the main reason why I struggle to find love." To make the conversation a bit lighter again Natasha teased you with your own words. "Like you told me, love will come when you least expect it. Don't worry your pretty little mind about it." 

"Do you have a favorite color?" The other women was stunned, nobody ever dared to ask her such a simple question. Since she never had to answer the question, she genuinely had to think about it. "Though I like black and red I honestly think that my favorite color is green. What is yours?" Green. Like her beautiful green eyes. You wondered if that was a coincidence or not. "It changes between grey, purple and narancssárga." It took you a second to realize that you said the last color in hungarian. "Oh wait, what's it called in english? Uhh wait a second. I got it in-" Natasha smiled at your struggle to keep simple words in any language. "Could it be orange?" She asked you, thinking about how that word reminder her of the spanish translation. A smile made its way on your face. "Yes, thank you! I want to add that orange is kinda my favorite color recently." 

Natasha noticed that since she saw a couple of orange things laying around in your room."I saw an orange hoodie in your room. I have to say it seemed very comfy." Your eyes lit up at the mention of your absolutely favorite hoodie. "Ohh yes it is. I honestly can't wait for autumn to come. Hoodie season is one of my favorites." 

"Speaking of autumn, it's great for a Pumpkin Spice Latte, don't you think?" You shook your head. "Never tried it but still no thank you. I rather sit here with a normal coffee and a book than going to Starbucks for that seasonal drink. Starbucks is also fucking expensive!" The way she intently held her gaze on you made you a bit nervous. You weren't used to have attention on you like this and especially not from such an attractive women. The beat of your heart was beating faster with every second that went by where no words were said. The redhead bit her lip, your eyes were immediately staring at her action, the air got more tense when you looked back up into her eyes. But the moment was over the second you both heard Yelena's loud snores from your bedroom. Louder giggles broke out of you, soon followed by Natasha's soft giggles. After hearing her giggling something inside of you had the sudden urge to made her laugh. The sounds she made were just heaven to your  ears. 

You didn't know how to crack a joke around her so you just smiled at her. The silence between you two wasn't awkward but it still made you uncomfortable to a certain point. You searched in your mind for a good topic to talk about but nothing came up, you were frustrated with yourself so you looked away, your smile suddenly gone dry. Natasha didn't like one bit what just happened, she also did not know what the hell just happened. One second you were smiling at her and the next second you were like this small child hiding herself from the world. "What's your favorite animal?" She knew from previous conversations with the Avengers that talking about animal will always lift up anyone. "What?" You were so in your head that you got confused why she'd bring up animals out of nowhere before you realized that you two were asking questions not long ago. "Oh umm I think it's red pandas or red foxes." Her eyes were on you when you looked at her again. "So you have a thing with red beings huh? Does that mean I fall into that category too?" She teased you not expecting a retort back from you since you seemed so shy at her teasing. "A goddess like you is above them all." You were not sure where the confidence came from and you didn't think about it when you saw the face of women in front of you turned as red as her hair. For once Natasha was speechless and that happened rarely to her. 

"Anyways.. what is your favorite animal?" She was glad that you decided to speak up, she knew she didn't have it in her after being stunned by you like this. "I always wanted to have a black cat so I guess cats?" The conversation then turned into stuff about how you saw yourself in the future and which cities you guys wanted to still visit and other things that weren't deep talk. Around 3:30 am Natasha decided to go back to sleep, she also saw that you finally got a bit sleepy and left you to try falling asleep. It took you another hour to finally fall asleep. 

The alarm clock on your phone woke you up at exactly 7am. As you walked from your living room through your bedroom to the bathroom you noticed that the two women were already gone. Sadness settled inside you like a brick, you were hoping to see Natasha one last time before you yourself had to go to work. After a shower, brushing your teeth and got dressed for work you walked into the kitchen and made yourself coffee. You were sipping the hot liquid as you walked around to gather your wallet, a bottle of water and some lunch you made the day before. It all went into your bag before grabbing your keys. But right there you noticed a postcard, one you bought only yesterday. You picked it up and turned it around. It looked like someone has written on it in a hurry. It made you smile nonetheless.

Dear Y/N, We had to leave early and in a hurry. I was hoping to say goodbye in person. Thank you for last night, I will cherish that memory forever. Also thank you for taking us in and hiding us without asking any questions. 

May we meet again. 

~ Natasha R.

Taglist: @dcrogoy , @arcturusseer , @comet-forgot-you , @arualdcg , @kksalexa , @imnatobsessed , @presser24 , @00alycia , @wannabe-fic-reader , @lonewalker17

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader #yelena belova

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

Beautiful Black Women 👑

essence:

Halle Bailey, how lucky are we to be part of your world! There have been waves of unsolicited opinions about you and it’s time to silence the storm! The comments aren’t just nosey - they show entitlement to Black women’s bodies and the last time we checked, no one owes us an explanation for anything. To any and everyone who thinks otherwise, swim along but more importantly - stay out of Black women's business! 🫶🏾 #ESSENCE 📸: ESSENCE Archives Getty

essence:

They say laughter is the best medicine and if that’s the truth, Regina Hall is our resident doctor. But it’s more than just the jokes for us. It’s the kind soul that shines through. Thank you for putting a smile on our face and showing that pretty girls can be funny too!

teyanataylor:

Father God, Let me tell you something about your FAVOR, your favor can’t be stopped! Lord, You told me in John 8:12 that, you are the light of the world & if I followed you I wouldn’t have to walk in darkness, because you would have the light that leads to life! Amen. You promised to protect me from the evil In the face of adversity, & you rescued me. So I humbly submit to you with a thankful heart. Thank you for reminding me that your Love & blessings don’t come with conditions and as the flames dance upon 33 candles, I find myself immersed in the profound reflections of a journey shaped by growth and artistic evolution. Embracing the present, I stand at the threshold of the unknown, ready to inscribe new chapters in the book of life. Here's to the intricate dance of time and the wisdom it unfolds. In Jesus name, Amen🌹🎂🌹 THANK YOU to all my family & friends that came out to celebrate me on such a special day for me. I feel so full ❤️🌹❤️ #33 12.10.90 🌹📸: @insurgovisuals @destinyfulfild @kvnhrtlss @oneshotmia I will be sending out all my special THANK YOU’S to everyone involved with making this beautiful night unforgettable in part 2.🌹

issarae:

🔥🏡 @hauteliving 🔥🏡 By @laurainwonderland Photography @kanyaiwana Styling @therealwourivice Fashion Director @adriennefaurote Videographer @jeanlondondia Hair @felicialeatherwood Makeup @joannasimkin Jewelry & Watches By @bulgari

victoriamonet:

I had the honor of having such a beautiful conversation with two of the most legendary producers of our lifetime at the @grammymuseum about all things JAGUAR II !! I am in awe and so grateful for the opportunity to share words and space with you both @flytetymejam and @dmile85 thank you so much for this incredibly special moment!🤎🥹\n\nPLUS my mommy surprised me and came to the event @themommymonet you’re the best!!!🙌🏾 Styled by @kollincarter in @area @jimmychoo and @alexisbittar jewelry Glam: @mua.alexander Hair: @theassassin 📸: @mr_dadams @rachelle_jl @danameyerson @1sweetlotus thank you so much for all of your work behind the scenes on this!!!🙌🏾 it all truly takes a team and I got the best one ✨✨✨

#halle bailey #regina hall #teyana taylor #issa rae #victora monét #beautiful black women