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nariism · 5 months

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across the violet sky — lyney

"you look beautiful in the moonlight."

synopsis. all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

wc. ~1.5k

— for @rintosei smooch 🫶🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

"You did what?"

Lyney flinches at his twin's harsh tone, the words seething out through her grit teeth. He pauses in his rummaging, deflating with his hands hovering over the open box.

You had originally agreed on helping them set up for their next show, even going so far as to personally arrange for all the props to be transported to the Opera Epiclese. But you're nowhere to be found now, leaving the magician sweating under the cold gaze of his dear sister.

"Lyney—" She sighs, fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose. And he knows he's messed up big time to elicit such a powerful emotion from her. "How could you do that? Y/N has been nothing but amazing in helping us through all of this."

It was true that you had been supportive to a fault ever since you first stumbled into a performance way back when. Since then, you'd always looked at the pair with stars in your eyes, perhaps hoping that one day your beloved would pull you onto the stage despite his repeated worries about props misfiring or sabotage.

He had never worried about that sort of thing until he was framed. He'd be damned if you were to be injured during one of his shows.

So he banished you to the audience, swore to himself that he would never endanger you by pulling you into the spotlight of the stage. And he upheld that promise to himself, until you finally broke him down with such honeyed smiles and even sweeter words.

Because he was weak when it came to those he loved, he caved in just to see the joy shining in your eyes. He didn't have time to regret his decision—not when you were already leaping into his arms with a chanting prayer of thanks on your tongue.

And now...

"I know, I know..." he huffs in frustration, resuming in busying his hands with the contents of the box. "But what was I supposed to do? I owed Father's friends a huge favour and this—"

"Are you really choosing Father's approval over your relationship?"

He stops again, eyes cast solely on the props in his hands. One of the associates of the House demanded that his child be put into the show as an assistant. You were visibly hurt when he had informed you of the last minute change, and hadn't heard from you since.

While he would have normally chased after you in such a moment, he was too preoccupied with preparing everything for the changes made to the performance to worry about where you'd gone or the extent of how upset you were.

"What would you have me do?"

Lynette saunters over to her brother's side, crouching down beside him. Her hand gently guides his own down to place the props back into their spots.

"Making sure they're okay would be a good place to start."

The magician makes a face, lip jutted out in a half-pout as he considers it. Yes, he would be distracted if you were on his mind this way after all. It would be better to clear the air before the show started. His sister was always the more level-headed of the two of them—the soft yet stern voice of reason when he was being careless.

"You're right," he concedes. Lynette was always right.

He doesn't find you at your home.

After knocking at the front door until his knuckles hurt, he deems that you must not be here. Clutching the bouquet of Rainbow Roses carefully to his chest, he makes his way to his next destination: the Fountain of Lucine.

With nearly everyone tucking away for the night, there's hardly a peep in the plaza. He approaches slowly, watching your figure come into focus.

Ah, of course you'd be here. You always came here when you needed to think.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you. He'd practiced on the way here: how to apologize, how to grovel for forgiveness even though you were so kind that he was sure you'd accept it in a heartbeat.

Still, you were the love of his life. He seldom expressed his vulnerability to you, but he truly did feel horrible for bailing you out of the show last minute—especially when you seemed so excited to finally be a part of it.

"Sweetest," he calls you. You don't respond, instead opting to quietly swish your bare feet around in the shallows of the fountain. His heart plummets at your lack of interest, so he takes a cautious step forward. "It's late. You'll catch a cold sitting out here."

Again, you're silent. He swallows, trying to think of a way to get you to even look his way.

Lyney has always been good with words—talented at misdirection and deceit. But he has no reason to be like that with you, to be dishonest or closed off or misleading. It leaves him tripping over his own tongue.

He loves you with all his heart, yet he doesn't even know how to talk to you without making a fool of himself.

His whole life has been about buttering up an audience, making a spectacle of words and dance and magic. But you're real. How does he handle that?

Slowly, he sheds his coat before draping it over your shoulders. He sits beside you facing away from the running water, the paper holding his beautiful bouquet together rustling with each movement.

The noise makes you look his way, eyes curious as ever. It was what he adored so much about you.

For a second, he sees the undeniable softening of your expression—a small but unmistakable smile gracing your face before it vanishes again.

"You'll catch a cold," you scold.

"That's okay."

Your gaze flickers between his eyes and his lips. He can feel the heavy tension melting away with every shameless glance up and down, smugness firing through his veins when he realizes you've missed him despite your avoidance.

"I'm sorry I made such a big deal about all this," you whisper, tearing your attention back to the way the water ripples with each movement.

Lyney reaches over quickly, hand swiftly turning you to look at him again by the cheek. "Don't apologize," he argues. "I was being stupid."

You nod, mouth opening then closing as you wait for him to continue.

He doesn't. He can't.

The whole walk here he had planned out exactly what he wanted to say, all the ways he wanted to tell you that he only gets so protective because his work can be dangerous. There were a million ways he planned to apologize, a dozen scenarios where he imagined you would walk out of his life for being so careless with your feelings.

But all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

"You look so beautiful in the moonlight."

You blink at him in surprise, instinctively burying your face into the warmth of his palm as you lean forward. There's a knowing in the way you look at him, as if able to read the words in his heart that he can't seem to get out.

"You're not trying to butter me up, are you?" You ask teasingly, an attempt to relieve his racing mind.

"Just being honest," he laughs. Another silence fills the air before he continues, "I'm really sorry. Next time, I promise to drag you onto the stage with me."

You stifle a giggle, pulling away to watch your feet prod at the surface of the water. "It's alright. I know I'm not exactly cut out to be a star."

The magician shuffles closer to you until your shoulders are bumping, then he places the bouquet of Rainbow Roses in your lap.

"You are a star," he mumbles. "The brightest star in the sky."

Dancing in the moonlight, bathing in it so beautifully. Lynette would hurl at him admitting something so corny, though.

"Really?" You ask with a laugh in your breath.

"Really really."

You hum softly, hand settling over his. Your bodies are turned opposite ways but he can imagine the smile spreading across your face, the warmth of it. You were always poor at hiding when he flustered you.

The soft sound of streaming water fills the comfortable silence. It's a stark contrast to the applause he's grown so accustomed to but he would choose this a million times over.

Your hand squeezes his. He realizes, then—you're a star no matter which spotlight you're under, whether it be under the weight of a thousand eyes or just for him under the quiet moon.

("Stop gagging! It wasn't that cheesy!"

"A star?" Lynette pales further, placing her head into her hands. "A... A star?"

"Oh, quit with the dramatics already!"

"I have a lovesick idiot for a brother... I'm going to throw up."

"Lynette!")

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fic #genshin drabbles #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney x gender neutral reader #lyney x gn reader

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sluttywoozi · 6 months

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Adore You | Chapter 1 | kmg x f!reader

I'd walk through fire for you, Just let me adore you

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2k | Genre: rom com, fluff, smut, office au

Warnings: power imbalance bc reader is his boss but he’s the one doing the pursuing, personal assistant!mingyu, he’s such a simp, mention of food, suggestive thoughts

Reader Notes: wears a skirt and heels, boss bitch, touch starved, gets nails done, wap, referred to as a woman

Mingyu glances at his watch, noting that it’s near lunch, and shuffles around the papers on his desk wishing he didn’t have bad news to give you. The end date of the project you’re overseeing will have to be delayed again, and he knows you won’t be happy.

You won’t take it out on your team - you understand that things happen - but it means you’ll have to explain to the higher ups why you need another month and talking to them always puts you in a sour mood.

It’s likely because you and everyone else in this building knows you’re more qualified and better suited to the role than the six old men in that big conference room are, but until one of them retires or dies, you’re stuck where you are. That means Mingyu is stuck where he is too, but he truly would be happy to stay here forever.

Mingyu has been your personal assistant for six months now. He’s a bit clumsy, and he tends to order the exact same coffee as you so he has an extra just in case, and he once forgot his own strength and knocked so hard on your frosted glass door, it shattered, but he’s still good at lots of things!

He’s attentive, eager, sharp, and he can always anticipate what you need before you even ask for it. He’s a pro at taking care of you, making sure you don’t work yourself too hard and that you drink plenty of water and eat regular meals.

He does everything for you, everything but your job, and ensuring that you’re happy and content and well cared for is one of his greatest strengths.

Which is why he’s borderline devastated when he overhears you on the phone. Your voice isn’t loud from his desk, but he’s trained his ears to listen for you and listen they do. You’re not talking about him, thank God, but you are talking about the boyfriend you just broke up with.

You were dating him when Mingyu first started, and from the one and only time he met him at the office, he knew he wasn’t anywhere near good enough for you. Apparently, he even turned out to be bad for you, stressing you out and hurting your feelings and, worst of all (to you), he couldn’t make you cum.

That’s shocking to Mingyu. He’s always been a giver during sex, gaining more pleasure from making someone else feel it rather than taking it for himself, but he knows not all guys are like that. This one didn’t even try, it seems from your complaints, and he can’t believe you lived like that for all these months.

He doesn’t doubt you’ve cum in the meantime, he knows women masturbate just like men do, but hearing that you’ve been so neglected has his stomach churning.

If it were him, he’d have to loosen you up with two or three orgasms before he could even fit his cock inside you, and if you let him in without a condom, he’d obviously have to clean you up with his mouth after, guaranteeing a grand total of four minimum.

To think that you’ve been giving yourself to that man and getting nothing in return…

Mingyu doesn’t think he can let that stand.

So, he comes up with a plan.

Step 1. Show you how well he knows you.

Mingyu starts by rescheduling your non-essential lunch meeting, recognizing in your voice that you need some time to yourself, and orders your favorite from the place down the street. He’ll run out to pick it up in half an hour, leaving him just enough time to break the bad news to you. He hates that he’ll have to put even more of a damper on your day, but it’s better that you know now so you can adjust accordingly.

He rolls his chair back and stands, reaching his hands up to the ceiling in a stretch before straightening his clothes out and running a palm over his hair to ensure it’s all in place. There’s a piece that always breaks free from the pomade and drives him crazy, but he doesn’t want to use too much and look all greasy. Predictably, the lock falls against his forehead and he rolls his eyes before popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing on some lip balm.

You hung up with your friend a few minutes ago and he can’t hear you anymore, just his own footsteps on the marble as he walks the six feet to your door and knocks. You call out a low, “Come in,” and he turns the knob as gently as he can. You have a corner office on the fifteenth floor and the view is spectacular, but when he steps foot inside, all he can see is you. Your eyes are rimmed in red, your lashes are clumped together, and your lips are puffy, the smile they stretch in forced and false.

“What’s up, Mingyu?” You ask, your voice a bit scratchy and your tone overly bright.

“So… Joshua sent over the project report, and it looks like they’ll need three more weeks.”

He imbues his words with apology, finishing with his eyebrows pushed together and his lip bitten between his teeth. You heave a great sigh, your perfect posture melting as you set your elbows on the wood of your desk and drop your face into your palms.

“God, can just one thing go right today?”

He shifts on his feet, staying silent as you process what exactly needs to be done. It’s fascinating to watch the thoughts play out on your face, the frustration and urgency and finally, the acceptance.

“Okay, I’ll have to call Terry and let him know. He won’t be happy but I don’t fucking care,” you turn and stare out the window as you speak, sinking back into your chair and kicking off your heels. “They have their three weeks, and if they need to extend it again, I need to know now. Is there anything else?”

You sound so weary, like if he placed one more burden upon your shoulders, you’d collapse under the weight of it all. If Mingyu could, he’d carry all of your problems for you, hell, he’d carry you, but he can’t so he just squeezes his hands into fists behind his back, his fingers tingling with the desire to reach out to you.

“Nothing bad,” he promises. “I pushed your 1 PM meeting to tomorrow and I’m picking up your regular from Diane’s. I thought you might want a breather, I hope that’s okay.”

You usually don’t mind changes to your schedule, as long as they’re not last minute additions that keep you here later, but he still worries about doing things without your permission. Your eyes leave the window, your gaze finding him, and he does his best not to shrink under your intense stare. Until tears start to gather on your lashes, that is.

Then, he rushes to you, his hands hovering over your form, desperate to comfort you but not wanting to cross any boundaries. He speaks all at once, his words flying out so fast, they’re almost unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can move it back! I’ll move it back, it’ll be okay,” he soothes, petting the air around you as if that could do anything.

“No, don’t move it,” you warble, your hands coming up to cover your face. “That’s just so thoughtful of you, Mingyu. That’s exactly what I need, a breather. Can I tell you something personal?”

Mingyu rushes to nod, his eyes wide and his breath stuck in his chest as you wipe away the tears on your cheeks. You glance away from him, your lips tightening and your brows tilting in a frown, “Derek and I broke up last night. I broke up with him, at least, but it still hurts. I mean, I wasted seven months on him, and the most thoughtful thing he ever did was throw an extra beer in the fridge for me every once in a while. I don’t even like beer.”

Defeat is clear in your voice, as is some measure of self-hatred. He doesn’t know what to say, beyond being sure he shouldn’t mention what else Derek wasn’t good at. He could tell you about his own disastrous breakup last year, or how it’s actually easy to do nice things for you, or that he’d be happy to do some very nice things for you, if only you’d ask.

Instead, he says, “You deserve better,” and clenches his fists again when you just send him a sad smile and nod half-heartedly.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, likely a text letting him know your order is ready for pick up, and he wishes he had a personal assistant of his own to send out so he could stay here with you. But he doesn’t, so he looks down at you from where he stands in front of your desk, longing to bundle you up and put you in his pocket so nothing and no one can ever hurt you again.

That would be inappropriate, and impossible, and likely something you’re too independent for anyway.

“I have to go get the food, can I grab you anything while I’m out?” He asks, his voice much softer than his words.

You shake your head again, “No, thank you, Mingyu. Did you get something for yourself?”

“No, I brought my lunch today,” he smiles, canines pushing against his bottom lip.

“I should probably start doing that,” you sigh. “I bet yours is delicious, people still talk about the cake you made for Wonwoo’s birthday.”

“I could start making a lunch for you, if you want,” Mingyu offers before he can actually think about it, about how intimate and domestic it would feel, packing a lunch for you and knowing you’re eating food he made with his own two hands.

“Oh no, that’s way out of your pay grade, I couldn’t put you out like that.”

“I insist! Please let me,” he begs, clasping his hands together and bringing them up under his chin as he widens his eyes and pushes out his bottom lip. It takes less than thirty seconds for you to fold, your polite refusal defenseless against his expert pouting skills.

“Fine!” You throw your hands up. “If you really want, you can make me lunch too. But you have to stop as soon as you don’t want to do it anymore, and that’s an order.”

God, he loves your stern voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mingyu beams triumphantly, rocking back and forth on his heels to contain the excited energy flowing through him. He’s already brainstorming recipes in his head, taking into account your allergies and preferences, and he thinks he’ll have enough ideas to at least last him the month.

“I’ll be back in twenty with the food,” Mingyu assures you as he backs up to your door, not wanting to take his eyes off you for a single second. You return your attention to your computer but look at him just long enough to smile gently and say, “Thank you, Mingyu. You’re the best.”

That little bit of praise from you makes him float all day.

All the way through your afternoon meetings, all the way home on the subway, and all the way up to his apartment, where he immediately sits down to start a pinterest board for your daily lunches. He doesn’t even undress, just gets right to work searching for recipes and making pins of ideas he already has.

He also maybe buys new tupperware and a classy little lunchbox to bring your containers in, and pays extra to have it arrive tonight.

One can never be too prepared when it comes to seducing one’s boss.

Next Chapter

Adore You Masterlist

Adore You Taglist

My Masterlist

AN: yayyyyy so excited to post the first part of this lil mini series!! i had this idea around a year and a half ago when i started writing so it's definitely been on my mind for a while and i'm so happy i finally put it to words so i could share it with y'all! i'm just about finished writing it and i'm planning on posting once a week, so it should be fully complete by the end of november!

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading!

please please please reblog!! likes do nothing to spread my work but reblogs are a really easy way to support me! and if you add your thoughts in too i'll love you forever 💖

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yikimiki · 1 year

Note

Can I please request;

King eren who's been lusting after his personal maid for the longest time. Smut when he has her clean every inch of him during a bath and tells her to clean his cock with her mouth.

I LOVE fantasy aus, this was heaven-sent. Note! Eren is older here, around his early 30s, and I imagined reader to be around early/mid 20’s (though age isn’t specified). Also this is LONG! I don’t know WC Bc I wrote on tumblr but i guess around 4-5K!! 🪦

>> of marble and gold

⚠️ warnings: smut, obvious power imbalance/abuse (so dub-con), dark content because Eren is… obsessive, heavy objectification/degradation of reader (“whore” and such), oral, creampie, bruising/marking

—

The brown leaves twirl to the ground as a new season begins, and King Eren’s patience — and self-control — has reached its limit. After almost fifty years of the Jaeger family negotiating with the neighboring kingdom, the new ruler broke tradition like it was nothing more than a frail wax seal. The message is clear: no more commercial settlements, no more food trade, until they returned with the treasure they had stolen nearly a century ago. Until the vaults are full, and his people are once again able to enjoy their own crops, friendly conversations are off the table.

Surprisingly, it works. After panic has subsided and a tense meeting is scheduled, the threat of an upcoming war is larger than the power of negotiation — with that, a new system is at play, and the table dips a little more towards Eren’s kingdom.

It’s one of the easiest years in a long, long time — plates are full, the people are happy, and the small economy is finally blossoming into something more substancial. Eren is constantly surrounded by all types of people who seek to impress him (or take his newly found riches), little annoying flies buzzing around him during the day, then trying to enter his chambers at night.

But Eren is difficult to impress. He’s a serious man with serious goals, and a short dress skit or an inviting deal isn’t enough to make him pay attention. However, amidst all that calamity, you manage to make him double take.

The influx of people to his lands came with the news of a fruitful economy, so it isn’t a surprise that he doesn’t immediately recognize you. There are countless new servants in the castle, some of which are constantly out of his sight, so your random appearance is, in a way, expected. And, yet, amongst so many faces, his gaze stills in yours.

Once again, Eren is a serious man with serious goals — and with even more serious needs and desires. The switch of your position (from a kitchen servant to his personal maid) is swift and direct, leaving no room for objection. It’s not typical for women to assist royal men in such personal affairs such as bathing or clothing — not officially, at least — so he expects that the change with cause a little fuss. But no one has the guts to go against him.

The first time you see King Eren, he is a giant in front of you, watching closely as you kneel in front of his throne. There are dark shadows over his face and his green eyes shine with amusement, long brown hair falling like a cascade over his features. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he tells you to stand, and countless scars on his hand as he holds yours and orders you to be at his chamber at nightfall, so you can help him bathe. You agree and leave hurriedly, heartbeat booming in your ears.

Eren is a handsome man, that much you knew. But what you didn’t know is how massive and overtaking his very presence is — well, you suppose that is expected of any monarch, but it’s different when you witness it yourself. He is the center of the galaxy and everyone else, yourself included, is simply gravitating around him, moving aimlessly through life until he, even if briefly, gives meaning to it. To have someone so great, so respected, to personally chose you amongst so many to serve him… is strange.

You’re not naive — the years being both a commoner and a woman have taught you more than most maids in the castle would’ve dreamt of living. You know what men want, especially powerful ones like Eren, and you know your position is extremely delicate. Even if, now, you don’t wish to deny any of his advances, you know that the mere possibility would mean death to you. So you accept, even knowing you’re placing a noose around your neck. Even knowing you’re only getting out of this if he loses interest or, somberly, dead.

The first night you spend in Eren’s chambers you know that the first option is nearly impossible. He looks at you like you’re a mythical being, the finest piece of art, watching your movements closely as you help him bathe — your hands moving up and down on the water, keeping the circle of wetting the rag, cleaning his skin, and wetting it again. You’re strictly professional, never staring at his body, especially the parts beneath the water. From your peripheral vision, you see his defined muscles and deep battle scars, but don’t dare to look at it directly.

“Where did you come from?” He asks eventually, scaring you and making you drop the piece of soap in your hands. Eren’s voice is deep and commanding even in such intimate situation, and you feel yourself shrinking. “You’re not from here.”

The second part isn’t a question. “I came from the East, my king.”

Eren isn’t satisfied by your answer. “Why did you come?”

“My family’s farm was burnt down and I needed to work, my king,” you tell him, placing the dirty rag aside as you move to reach for the soap. Thankfully there is a layer of bubbles on the water now, and there is nothing else to see. “So I came here.”

He hums, laying back against the cool material. “Look at your king,” he orders. You blink, overwhelmed, and do as he says. His eyes are looking directly at your soul, one wet strand of hair glued to his forehead, and you squeeze the bar of soap so tightly that your nails dig to the surface. “Better. What is your name?”

You tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. You gulp and sit back against your heels, watching as his hand moves closer to you, pushing your hair behind your ear. Shadows and candlelight reflects on his face like a dream. “It’s quite obvious you’re a foreigner. We don’t have women as beautiful as you.”

“T-Thank you, my king.” You look down. Your heart hammers like a caged bird against your ribcage, your lungs fight against expectation. His touch lingers. “I believe your bath is finished, your highness, do you wish for me to help you into—“

“Finished?” He raises one eyebrow, and you feel the noose around your neck tighten. “It is not. You forgot a place.”

You lower your head. “My deepest apologies, your highness.”

He hums, then startles you as he abruptly rises from the water. You use all your force not to look up at him. “Come. Dry me.”

You blink. “My king, what about…”

“Don’t argue, sweet girl. Your king commands you,” Eren says. There is poison dripping from his lips and you nod, getting up to your feet. “Dry me.”

You swallow. “Yes, my king.”

The pace in which you dry Eren’s body is torturous, your gaze glued to your own hands as you move the dry towel over his skin. First his face and hair, where he stares at you intently, then moving down to his chest, his arms.

Eren himself is enthralled, unable to cut his thoughts of you. Up close, you’re flawless, divine. Every movement you make is perfect, even the way you bite your lip and blink at him makes him dizzy with desire. He has never seen someone as beautiful as you, a young maiden with plump breasts and a delicate face; someone who listens to him so closely yet keeps their distance, respectful and fearful of their king — as all should be. He must have you. More than this, more than as a worker, he must have you, body and soul.

Your body arches as you move closer to his abdomen, touches becoming clearly more clumsy as your hands approach his private parts. The mere anticipation of having you so close makes Eren’s cock grow, thick and heavy, until it’s almost fully erect and you pause, startled.

“There, love. That’s where you missed a spot,” Eren says. You gulp and look up at him, wide eyes searching for something in his expression. He signals towards his erection with a movement of his head. “Clean it.”

“M-My king,” you speak, nervous. “Do you wish me to… clean you? There?”

He nods. “With your mouth. Be a good girl and clean it all up.,” he says. You lick your lips and look down at his large member — you knew it would come down to this and, yet, you are taken off guard. You didn’t think it would be this way. “And it’s Eren. These titles are making me mad with rage.”

You kneel in front of him — Eren realizes he is quite fond of that position. “Yes, my- Eren.”

Your hand seems so small against his cock, now fully erect, barely taking him halfway before your lips touch his crown. Eren is both long and thick, throbbing in your hand as you suck on his head, humming around him before daring to go a little deeper. The size makes you choke up slightly, but you prevail. You want to pleasure your king, and if this is the way, so be it.

“Don’t be afraid to put it all inside, love.” He sighs. You do as you’re told, fighting against the tears as you push more of his size inside your mouth. It touches your throat and you gag, but you don’t stop. When Eren starts to moan, a deep groan in his throat, you start to set a rhythm. “There it is, there’s my obedient whore. Just as perfect as I had imagined.”

There’s wetness building between your thighs at his filthy words, a growing desire inside you as you look up at him. Eren is a god above you, made of marble and gold, looking down at you like you’re nothing but a hole for him to use. The defined muscles of his abdomen are contracting as you suck him harder, his eyes focused on your stretched-out lips as you struggle to take him.

“Fuck… what a perfect little mouth you have,” he breathes out. You close your eyes and take him even deeper, making a string of curses and threats fall from his mouth. His large hand meets the back of your head and pulls a handful of your hair, moving your face as he likes on his cock. “Good fucking whore,” Eren moans. “My fucking whore from now on. No one will fuck you. Only me.” You gag around his cock, but he doesn’t stop. Eren fucks your mouth until you’re sobbing, until he’s about to spill inside it — and then he pushes your head away. “Get on the fucking bed. I’m going to make you mine forever.”

You’re so overwhelmed that you barely process the walk between his bathroom and the large bed — in fact, you don’t even have time to think about how that is the single largest piece of furniture you’ve ever seen before you’re thrown on the bouncy mattress. One second you’re standing next to your king, and the next Eren is looming over you, kissing you like you’re the air that he breathes, like your mouth is made of honey. His hands are all over your body, literally tearing and ripping your dress in a desperate, animalistic attempt to get you undressed.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles before he latches onto one of your breasts, sucking as his hand squeezes the other one. You’re fully naked now, lying in a bed of rags — rags that used to be your dress.

Eren marks you up with his hickeys, spanks the skin of your thighs until it’s bruised and you’re whining for him to stop. You sob and cry, but he shuts you up with another kiss just so he can tear those pretty sounds from you again.

“M-My king, please,” you beg. The wetness between your legs is embarrassing, and your body is all marked up by the time Eren is done with exploring it. He is lost in the mission of making — of marking — you his, barely even hears what you say. “I need…”

Then something clicks. He holds your face in his hand and pushes it closer to his, squeezing your cheeks together. There is fire burning at the bottom of his eyes, and you know you’ve said something wrong. “You don’t need anything, you don’t request anything. Understand? I’m your king, and you’re my whore. Act like it.”

You swallow — your throat hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

Eren is a serious man and a man of his word. You can’t even think about what to say to redeem yourself before he starts pushing his cock against your pussy, rubbing the tip against your folds once, twice, before slamming himself deep inside you. You sob at the feeling, walls fighting to adjust to his size, but he doesn’t even let the burning sensation subside before he starts fucking you.

“What is it? Did you not need this?” He coos. You half-nod half-shake your head, not even sure of it yourself. Eren sneers at your pathetic situation — all teary eyes and messy hair, holding onto his arms as he drills his cock in and out of your tight hole. And, yet, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly thing he has ever seen. “Your pussy feels so fucking… so fucking good.” He moans. “I’m going to fill it up every night. Get you all full with cock and cum every chance I get.”

Your eyes roll back at his words, as promise feels like a dream. You’d like that — after so many years of struggle and hard work, you would love to be a brainless little hole for your king to use and abuse whenever he wishes. You’d love to be dressed in the finest of silk and kissed with fervor, be treated like royalty, even if it isn’t true. You would love it with all your heart.

“Look at me when I fuck you, whore. Look at your king,” Eren brings you back to reality. You do as he says, meeting the savage look in his eyes as he fucks you harder, deeper, hitting all the sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “Who do you belong to?” He asks, frowning. “Tell me.”

“Eren— I belong to you, Eren, my king,” you answer without hesitation. Your cunt squeezes him tightly as you cum hard, moaning loud and unashamed. You’d regret it in the morning but now… now you’re made of gold and marble too.

“You’re your king’s. Remember that,” he says. You nod, barely aware of the world around you as you dive deeper into pleasure. “Going to cum,” Eren strains. Forget that — now he looks like a god. Muscles tensing and jaw clenching as he uses your body however he pleases, plunging his cock inside you again and again until your wet pussy milks him dry; cock throbbing as he cums inside you. “Fuck, fuck,” he moans, hips faltering as his cock releases inside you again and again. “God, that’s so much fucking cum.”

A whine escapes your mouth as you feel it soak the sheets beneath you, but you say nothing. You dive into the moment like it’s your last one on earth: a moment in which you’re monarchy, loved and fucked into bliss, not a care in the world but the feeling dripping between your thighs. Though, the illusion never lasts long — you watch as Eren finishes and then rolls around next to you, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

Even after everything, it feels wrong. Like you shouldn’t be here. “M-My king,” you speak after a second of silence, “should I go?”

He turns to you, somber as always. You can’t decipher his tone as he answers. “Not yet,” Eren speaks. “Only when the sun comes up. If I’m done with you by then.”

#aot smut #eren smut #attack on titan smut #eren x reader #eren x you #snk smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you #king eren #eren fic

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hey-august · 26 days

Text

i was supposed to go to sleep, but here we are...

WC: ~700

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, buggy x f!reader, fingering, multiple orgasms, "good girl," bit of misuse of devil fruit powers bc it just makes things easier to imagine

"Shhh..." Buggy hushed you before flipping a page.

Your teeth clamped harder on your lip, biting back the sounds that he deemed "too distracting." When you offered to help the captain with his paperwork, this wasn't what you meant.

---

Buggy quickly lost steam when it came to bureaucratic drudgery. Anything he could delegate was passed off. Work that had to be done by him was also passed off. This worked until it didn't. Until the crew learned about his deadlines and his ploys.

Suddenly, everyone was busy. There were emergencies that needed immediate help. Excuses were said in between breaths.

"Excuse me, Captain, someone's stuck in the rigging." "Richie broke a claw and I need to check on him." "I broke my hand and have to go to the infirmary." "I have to get past you and do something else, sorry!"

Maybe no one said the last one, but that's what they all boiled down to.

And that's how Buggy ended up laying in bed, boots on, suffering through a packet that was actually important and couldn't get lost at sea.

You could nearly see the pirate's life fading away when you stepped into the room. His spirit was being replaced by unnecessary acronyms, legalese, and superfluous writing. With each word his eyes skimmed over, a sparkle died.

It was pitiful. And adorable, but you wouldn't tell him that.

You offered to help, figuring Buggy would be more than happy to hand you the papers, accidentally give you a paper cut, and wander off to get drunk.

Instead, he patted the spot next to him. You sat down, sinking into the divot he created, and leaned against his body. Buggy put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer.

You peered at the paper, ready to assist, when you realized Buggy had a different plan. A hand slithered it's way under your clothes and was finding a nesting place under your panties.

Buggy's fingers explored the area cautiously, chasing away the sensitivity and luring out arousal. He circled your bundle of nerves, avoiding contact and admiring from a distance. Buggy's warmth dipped lower, teasing you with how he almost touched the areas he usually attacks with passion and hunger.

"I thought you wanted h-help?"

"You are helping, now keep quiet so I can focus."

He kissed your forehead just as his fingertips collided with your clit. You gasped as the sweet electricity shot through your body and curled your toes.

Buggy stopped moving.

"I really do need to focus."

"I'll- I'll be quiet."

The movement started again and you sunk into your own body with a sigh.

Buggy knew how to play your body like an instrument. When to press harder and when to pull back. When you wanted small movements and when you needed something grander. When to keep tempo and follow the pattern, and when to create his own music.

The trembles in your body increased until the silent crescendos that left you twitching and panting. But with still more work to do, Buggy kept you underhand.

At first, you could pick out the shapes he traced. Numbers and figures to tally. Long digits that carried on longer than you did. Short numbers that brought about aftershocks of pleasure. Then the letters and words. At least, they were probably words. You couldn't hold onto them long enough to decipher the messages.

Buggy drew climax after climax from you body. You could feel how slick you were, a puddle collecting under your body. Every so often he'd pull out the hand and one of you would lick his wet fingers so he could turn a page.

"How much more?"

Buggy rifled through the packet.

"Three more, then it's done." He glanced at you. What a beautiful mess, covered in sweat and chest heaving. "You're doing such a good job for your captain. You deserve a reward for being such a good girl, huh?"

You nodded eagerly. A reward sounded nice.

"Keep being good for three more pages and I'll give you a nice big reward."

You nodded again and let your eyes close as Buggy picked up where he left off. A big, hard reward. That's what you wanted.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut

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holylulusworld · 30 days

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TOL - I’m your daddy now (2) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, trouble, mentions of cheating (her ex), groping, breeding kink, smut, unprotected sex, implied oral (fem rec), sex on a table, doggy style, daddy Lloyd (not the kinky kind of daddy), Lloyd mentions anal sex (implied)

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It’s the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine. It will lead toward Ari’s story. We will see their relationship throughout all other stories.

TOL - I’m your daddy now (1)

“Hands off, Mr. Hansen!” You slap Lloyd’s hand away. He tried to grab a handful of your ass, but you won’t have it. “Your filing system is a joke, and I don’t have time to deal with your libido while sorting all the files your former assistant hid under her desk.”

“Take the rest of the day off,” he stands behind you to press his firm body against yours. “I know your boss won’t mind. He pays you to look pretty and keep him happy.”

“I took the job for the money, not a limp dick. I already had a limp dick. He’s the reason I’m here. He wanted to push his useless dick into some new snatch. So, keep it in your pants. I don’t need dick. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh sunshine,” Lloyd brushes his hand over your ass,” don’t you want to feel the healing power of my cock fucking you six ways from Sunday? Only Lloyd Hansen can fuck you so good you forget all of your problems.”

“If that was true, I’d gladly ride your dick every time of the day,” you turn around to push against Lloyd’s shoulder. Since the day you walked into his office two months ago, he tried to get into your pants. – Or rather between your legs.

“Sunshine, be careful what you are wishing for,” Lloyd leans closer. “Tell me the problem that needs solving, and it’s gone. After I solved all of your problems, I want you to fulfill your promise and let me get my hands on that juicy ass and inside your sweet cunt.”

“My car broke down. My husband ran off with some skank and stole my money. I’m struggling to keep the roof over my baby boy’s head. And my son will grow up without a dad,” you huff and glare at Lloyd. “I don’t think you’ll be able to solve any of my problems.”

“Hmmm…” He nods and turns around to grab a piece of paper and a pen. “Car, deadbeat ex, money, house, daddy,” Lloyd notes. “Give me a month, cupcake and you’ll see all of your problems will vanish.”

“Sure-“ you grunt and shove against his chest when he tries to kiss you. “I got work to do, Sir. We have an appointment with your next victim in not two hours.”

“Victim? The ladies get money and grand-prime dicks they can choose. I force no one to fuck one of our clients. They come here to make money and get their pussies pounded like never before.”

“Just tell this to yourself,” you stick your tongue out. “Now, chop-chop. Get to work. We don’t have all day. I need to pick my baby boy up after work.”

“I’d like to work that body of yours,” he grins but turns around to walk into his office. “I hope you know that you got me rock-hard again, sunshine. The moment I solved all of your problems; I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

“Empty promises won’t make me wet,” you call after Lloyd. “If not for the money, I’d quit. And just you know, I hate that mustache!”

“You love it here, and working for me,” he grunts. “Just you know, if you ever get to ride my mustache, you’ll scream my name!”

“What the…?” You look at the keys of your cars in your hands and then at the parking lot. “That’s not my car!”

“Ah, there you are cupcake,” Lloyd purrs while you look around the parking lot to find your car. “Do you like your brand-new car?” He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pecks your cheek. “It’s a BMW X7, safe for kids and the ladies love it.”

“I don’t understand,” you lick your lips. “That’s not my car.”

“One problem solved, four more to go,” he kisses your cheek again, lips lingering a little longer. “Go ahead and pick your baby boy up. I bet he’ll love it too.”

Lloyd drops the keys to the car in your hands. “I—I can’t… where is my car?” You look at the keys in your hands.

“I got all your shit from your car and got rid of it. The papers are in the car. It’s yours, sunshine,” he grins. “I got work to do.”

You don’t get to protest. Lloyd walks away, whistling as you stand in front of the new car.

“You can’t just…what?”

“I don’t understand,” you rub your tired eyes. “I had fifteen bucks in my bank account. Now it says I got two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in my bank account. This can’t be right!”

“Miss, I checked your account thrice. It was there for almost five years,” she snaps at you. “It’s not my problem you have bad eyes.”

You blanch at her words. “If you say so,” you’re too tired and shocked to argue. You grab your things and walk out of the bank. This can’t be true. Your balance has been negative since your husband left you.

“Morning sunshine,” Lloyd greets you with a smack on your ass. “So, did you buy something nice?”

“What?” You glance at the paper bag filled with his breakfast and the coffee you got him on your way to work. “It’s your breakfast and the monstrosity you call your coffee.”

“Baby cakes, I didn’t get all of your money back and gave you a bonus for your hard work only for you to not buy you shiny things.”

“What? I—” You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “That was you?”

“I told you,” He grabs the bag with food and coffee to place it on your desk. “That I’ll solve all of your problems.” You end up in his arms, his face buried in your neck to nuzzle you. “I can’t wait to pound that pretty pussy. I bet you are hiding a hungry beast between those thighs.”

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen!” You try to push Lloyd off of you when someone enters the building. “We have company.”

“Let them watch,” he purrs and nuzzles you again. “Did you ever take it up your ass, sunshine? I bet you didn’t.”

“Lloyd, a word,” a tall man with a thick beard, and dirty-blonde, shaggy hair steps toward you and Lloyd. He rolls his eyes as your boss shamelessly gropes your ass. “Lloyd! We need to talk. I need your help with something.”

“Not the ballerina girl again,” Lloyd sighs against you. “Ari, I told you to forget about her. She’s not one of my girls.”

You push against Lloyd’s shoulders to make him budge. “How can we help you, Sir?” You ask. The man doesn’t look like he has the patience to wait or to put up with Lloyd’s antics.

“Levinson, follow me to my office,” Lloyd finally turns his attention toward the impatient man. “I’ll see what I can do to get you laid.”

“I don’t want to get laid,” Levinson grunts. “I want her to be mine. She’s perfect for me. I just know it.”

“Perfect,” Lloyd hums. “Did you already get a taste of her cunt? I bet you didn’t and that’s why your aching dick tells you to marry her.”

You shake your head and try to focus on work, not the fact that Lloyd’s profession revolves around getting guys laid.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You growl into your phone. “You have the nerve to call me to ask for forgiveness? How about you ask your son for forgiveness? No, forget it!” You snarl. “If you dare to get close to my baby boy, I’ll cut your limp dick off!”

You throw your phone against the wall, watching it shatter to the ground. Your chest heaves up and down and you’re close to attacking anyone coming to your path.

“Cupcake! What happened?” Lloyd pokes his head out of his office, aware that you are not in the mood to get messed with.

“He dared to call me to apologize!”

“Who?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“My ex-husband,” you grunt. “He told me that he transferred the rest of the money he stole from our accounts back and that he’ll sign the divorce papers.”

“That’s good, right?” He slowly steps out of his office, keeping an eye on you. “That’s what you wanted. To get your money back and his dead weight off of your back.”

“WAIT!” You round your desk to stalk toward Lloyd. “That was you!!!”

“Guilty,” Lloyd grins. “Problem number three is solved. And I roughed him up a little for you.” He shrugs. “I’m getting closer to the honey pot.”

Your mouth falls open. You don’t have a comeback this time.

“Don’t tempt me to shove something more than my tongue into your mouth. You better close it or you’ll be choking on my dick, sunshine.”

“You can’t just…” You throw your hands up when Lloyd turns around to walk back inside his office.

“I can and did, cupcake. Now get back to work. I’d hate to let you work overtime,” he grins and closes the door. “Only if it includes you impaled on my dick.”

“He…and then…” You can’t believe Lloyd roughed your douchebag of an ex up for you.

Why would he put so much effort into seducing you?

He’s a good-looking man if you ignore his personality and his annoying stache. Lloyd could have any woman, but he wants you – his chubby assistant with a kid and more problems than you can count.

Something must be wrong with him…

“Lloyd? What are you doing here?” You stare at your boss standing in front of your door. “My son is here! I can’t have you grope me or shit!”

“Relax, cupcake,” he grins. “I come in peace. I wanted to talk about a few things with you. My latest client needs our help, a special service.”

“Special service?”

“We must attend a dance class to help him,” Lloyd says. “Can we discuss this now or do you want to slap my ass for coming here first?” He furrows his brows. “What will it be?”

“Dance class?”

“Yup,” he nods. “How about I invite you for dinner and we can talk about joining a dance class to help him.”

“I got my son here, Lloyd.”

“Perfect,” he claps his hands. “I’m burning to get to know you mini-me. We will order food then and your kiddo can watch me do my job.”

“If you curse in front of my son, I’ll castrate you!” You point your index finger at Lloyd. “I’m warning you.”

“I’m a saint in the streets and a devil in the sheets,” he smirks. “I’ll behave. Promised.”

While you wait for the delivery service, Lloyd looks around your living room. He hums and sits next to your son on the sofa. “So, bud. How are you holding up?”

Your son looks up at Lloyd, squealing as he stares at Lloyd’s mustache. “Dadda?” Your son clumsily gets on his feet to stand up and grasp Lloyd’s face. “Dadda!”

“Hey, watch out, bud!” Lloyd grasps for your son before he can drop off the sofa. “Phew, you’re a handful, just like your mommy, huh? Let me get a good look at you.” Your boss smirks. “Look at you, you little shit. You’ve got your mommy’s eyes and damn me; you’d look good with a mustache.”

“What are you doing?” You gape at the scene. Lloyd is lifting your son to play airplane while your son squeals and babbles.

“Daddy!” Your son blubbers, making your heart ache. “DADDY!”

“Yeah, bud,” Lloyd looks you straight in the eyes, grinning. “I’m your daddy now. That deadbeat piece of … “ He clears his throat and reconsiders his choice of words, “crap can get fucked!”

“Lloyd!”

“Sorry, I meant he can ride into the sunset, and I hope a truck runs him over,” he grins and lifts your son up and down. “You are a cute little shit. No one will know you’re not mine. I’ll just make you mine.”

“What are you up to?” You try to fathom what’s going on, but the doorbell rings and you must get the food you ordered.

“One spoon for daddy,” Lloyd smirks watching your son shovel the food he ordered for him into his mouth. The peas and some of the meat end up on the table, but Lloyd doesn’t care. “And another one for mommy.”

“This isn’t funny, Lloyd,” you snarl. “If you fuck with me, fine. But keep my kid out of this.”

“Cupcake, no swear words in front of the kid,” Lloyd tuts. “I’m not playing games here. I want you, and you come with a cute little package. So, I’ll claim him as mine too.”

He turns his attention back toward your son. Lloyd grabs a napkin and wipes your son’s mouth. “We will teach you how to eat without dropping everything on the ground. Soon you will steal all the ladies’ hearts, bud.”

You shake your head and huff. This must all be a game to Lloyd.

There is no way he is interested in playing daddy for your son…

“Another problem solved,” Lloyd lazily leans back on your sofa and groans. “Damn, that food was great. I’m full.” He pats his perfectly defined abs. “I’ll raise your cute little shit and he’s got a daddy staying for longer than it takes to fill your cunt up.”

“Is all a joke to you?” You throw your hands up. “I get that you like to toy with me, but bringing my son into this shit is a new low.” You kneel on the sofa and bend over. “If you want to fuck me, do it now and leave my son alone. Come on, get it inside.”

“Y/N,” he gets off the couch to grope your ass. “I’d love to stick my dick into this perfect cunt, but I’m into this for the long haul.” He slaps your ass. “Stop being all mopey. I told you I like the little shit. He’s my son, and you are my dirty little slut. But you can call yourself my fiancé from now on.”

“Your—what?” you look over your shoulder. “Lloyd, my son cannot watch another father leave his life. You’ll break his little heart. Don’t do this.”

“I told you,” He huffs, “I’m here to stay. The boy is mine, just like his needy mommy.” His eyes drop to your ass, and he licks his lips. “All the dirty things I’m going to do to you. Like spoiling you like the perfect slut you are for me.”

“You’re so…”

“I know…” He grins and moves his hands to your ass. “Now, where can Daddy sleep? He wants to make breakfast for his little shit in the morning.”

“You can stay in my bedroom,” you lick your lips. “But only if you stop calling my son little shit.”

“We can rename him and call him Lloyd Jr. from now on,” Lloyd chuckles at your pissed expression. “You know, that’s actually a great idea.”

“His name is Y/S/N!”

“Debatable…”

Shit, you are in trouble. No – in deep shit. Lloyd easily made you melt in his arms when he told you he wanted to raise your son with you.

Now your boss has you bend over your dining table, ready to claim your cunt with his cock too.

“Hmm…dessert was nice,” he purrs in your ear, wet mustache tickling your ear shell. “I never ate a sweeter cupcake, Y/N. Now you’ll get the best dick of your life. This is the last dick you’ll ever get, sunshine.”

“Nghh…” You try to give him a snarky comment, but he stuffed your soaked panties into your mouth when he pushed you onto the table to eat your pussy like a man starving.

“Do you feel this,” he holds you down with one hand while he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “What would your husband say if he found us here, fucking like rabbits?”

You don’t have an answer for him.

“He’d love watching me destroy this snatch,” Lloyd slams home with one hard thrust. He moans loudly and shudders feeling your walls open up to him. “Fuck, that cunt was worth the wait—” He groans into your neck.

You whine at your own weakness.

He’s an infuriating man, doing nice things for you and your son and you let him not only crawl between your legs to eat your cunt, no – you let him mount you like an animal at your home too. “That snatch is gripping me so tight that it almost hurts.”

Lloyd nuzzles his face in your neck, and purrs. “But it hurts so damn good, doesn’t it?” You whine again, smothered by his body pressed against yours, and your own neediness.

He slowly rocks his hips, forcing you to feel every drag of his thick cock against your walls. Your legs quiver. Lloyd is not your passionless husband, nor the vanilla guys you fucked before him.

The man rocking into you came to conquer and he won’t do it halfhearted. “I can feel your pretty pussy cling to my cock. She’s as desperate for me as you are. But don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of her.”

Lloyd is having a blast destroying all of your defenses. He dismantled your defense and now, you lie on your table in your dining room and get railed by the man with the mustache.

“Nggh,” you groan against the makeshift gag. Lloyd picked up the pace and you end up bumping your hip against the table.

“Fuck, yes,” he curses loudly. “Never took you for someone wanting me to fuck you on your dining table.” He stills his hips to nip at your neck. “Do you want me to cum inside of you, and give you another little bundle of joy?”

You shake your head, but your cunt flutters around his thick length. If he wants to fulfill his dirty fantasies about breeding you, so be it.

You push back on him, taking Lloyd by surprise.

He eagerly grips your hips to move his hips in sync with you. Flesh claps against flesh, and he groans loudly as you don’t just take it.

“Fuck,” he curses and grunts while you start to go faster. “Shit, yes…”

A little too fast for his liking you clench around his twitching cock. He groans and stills his hips. Lloyd can’t move or think. This is the most intense orgasm he felt in a long time, or like ever.

“Fuck, take every droplet, sunshine.” You close your eyes and shudder feeling his seed coat your walls. “I hope I put a little Lloyd in you.”

“Goodnight, bud,” Lloyd covers your son with the blanket. “You need to sleep now, okay. Your mommy is very tired.” He grins when you enter the room to take care of your son. “Shhh…I wore her out. She’s so out of it, that I need to take care of you.”

“Daddy?” Your son grabs Lloyd’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Don’t worry, little shit,” Lloyd looks down at your son, a smug grin on his lips. “I’ll be there in the morning to make you breakfast. And in nine months, you are going to have a brother or sister.”

“Lloyd, not again,” you swat his hands away when he tries to spoon you. “I’m tired and sore.”

“Relax, I’m satisfied for tonight. Three rounds are enough for our first time,” he plays the big spoon and wraps his arms tightly around your body. “Little Lloyd is asleep, and my cock too.”

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t keep your promise. I’ll still lose the house because my bank is a bitch.”

“Oh, about that,” he nuzzles his face in your neck. “You and little Lloyd will move in with me. I have already arranged everything. Tomorrow the moving team will come around and grab all of your shit.”

“What? No. Lloyd,” you sigh deeply. “Y/S/N needs a nursery and a garden. We can’t just move out of our home only because you are crazy.”

“I’m not crazy cupcake,” he nips at your earlobe. “I claimed you and little shit as mine. This pretty mommy is all mine now, and your son will wear my name too. He’s going to have a better father than I ever had. Soon he will forget about his sperm donator and call only me his dad.”

“If you hurt my son, and don’t keep your promises, I’ll castrate you…”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #smut #lloyd hansen x you #plussized reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #TOL - I’m your daddy now (2) (Lloyd Hansen)

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right.

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist.

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone.

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging.

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it.

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude.

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound.

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls.

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you.

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth.

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice.

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe.

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.”

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good?

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.”

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you.

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air.

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.”

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.”

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue.

“This might sound dumb—”

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.”

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.”

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats.

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low.

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.”

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.”

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion.

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance.

You visit his office almost every night.

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose.

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar.

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job.

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk.

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—”

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue.

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—”

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.”

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves.

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you.

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.”

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you.

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up.

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.”

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath.

“Get on your knees.”

You snort, “Excuse me?”

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees.

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.”

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax.

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.”

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg.

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .”

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he?

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them.

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now.

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?”

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand.

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either.

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters.

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice.

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?”

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.”

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.”

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.”

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead.

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.”

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further.

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes.

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are.

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.”

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.”

“Will you repeat your sins?”

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.”

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.”

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right.

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow.

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you.

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone.

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically.

“Thank you, Father.”

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x fem!reader #priest!ezra #tw dark content #tw dubcon #pedro pascal characters #hauntedhoedown #pedro pascal character fanfic #prospect fanfic

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sluttywonwoo · 4 months

Text

instead of you [part thirty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

“Nice hat.”

You gave Minho a sideways look. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s cute.”

You tipped the brim at him, grinning. “Thank you. Jisung picked it out.”

“He has good taste.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to the double entendre so you didn’t, choosing instead to direct your attention forward, where your fake boyfriend was teeing up.

Back at school, Jisung had gone off to play golf with a few of your mutual friends once or twice, but it was an expensive hobby, and as broke college students, they couldn’t exactly make a habit out of it. For a little while, Jisung worked as an assistant chef at a nearby country club for a couple of months which allowed him free access to their course in his off time, but juggling the job and his studies quickly became too much to handle and he couldn’t even keep up with his responsibilities, let alone have any free time to take advantage of the course.

Considering how long it had been since he last played, you weren’t expecting much from Jisung’s first swing, but when he stuck the golf ball with his club, it actually went relatively far. Of course, you didn’t have much knowledge of the sport to go off of when it came to gauging how well he was actually doing, but from the looks on his brothers’ faces, you assumed he’d done pretty well.

“Good job!” you cheered, running up to your best friend and kissing him on the cheek. “That was good right?”

He caught you with an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Thanks, baby. It wasn’t bad, but it could have been better.”

“Whatever, you’re just being humble.”

“He’s not,” Felix piped up from behind the two of you. “Let me show you how a real golfer plays.”

You rolled your eyes in unison with Jisung but stepped back to let Felix tee up anyway, both watching as he took a couple of practice swings.

“How much do you want to bet he comes in last?” Jisung muttered in your ear.

“I’m not willing to go bankrupt over this, sorry.”

Jisung snorted and tried to muffle his laugh in your shoulder but it was still loud enough for his twin to hear.

“Oi! I don’t want to hear it when you’re up thirty points over me.”

“Yeah, we’ll see, Lix,” Jisung scoffed. “Just swing already! We don’t have all day, mate.”

Felix shot his brother a look but did as he was told. He rolled his shoulders and focused in on the ball, huffing out a breath and drawing the club back over his shoulder. He put more power into his swing than Jisung had but hit the ball with the edge of the clubhead instead of the center which sent it flying a little off to the left. From what you could see, the ball still landed on the pitch. It hadn’t gone into the trees or the lake, it was just in a trickier spot to clear.

“What was that you were saying about points?” Jisung asked smugly.

Felix groaned and turned back around to argue with him as Minho came up and took his place at the starting point.

“It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?” you muttered to Minho.

He gave you a tight half-smile and shrugged. “You have no idea.”

It had only been an hour since the boys started and you didn’t think you’d ever heard so many insults and curse words thrown around in such a short amount of time, which was saying something.

Jisung, Felix, and Minho were all neck and neck with each other, with Dom far ahead of all three of them.

The course itself was beautiful. It was just across the street from the resort you were staying at, right on the edge of the water. You were able to see the ocean from the tops of the faux hills on the green, sparkling with the reflection of the sun. The waves were dotted with little boats and surfers all enjoying the good weather and making the most out of the afternoon.

You would have been content to spend all day there if it wasn’t so hot and you weren’t forced to stand around listening to your best friend argue with his brothers.

“How many more holes are there?” you asked Nikki, leaning over and whispering quietly so that the others wouldn’t hear you.

“Too many.”

“Kill me now.”

“Why don’t we get ourselves a drink when the cart girl comes around? It’ll make the time go faster.”

You grinned. “I like the way you think.”

You weren’t a stranger to day drinking, not by a long shot, but you didn’t want to get too sloppy while the sun was still up. You had long since given up on the little pact you’d made with yourself not to drink for the remainder of the trip— not that you’d ever really followed it in the first place. Nikki got herself a High Noon when the aforementioned cart girl came by, so you did the same, insisting on covering the tab for both of you.

“Please?” you practically begged. “It’s literally the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

She seemed to think about it for a minute. “Fine. I’ll let you do it this one time. But don’t get used to it.”

You did a little dance in celebration and handed over some cash to the cart girl after she popped the tabs on both of your cans.

“Want anything?” you called to the boys. “It’s on me!”

Felix was the only one to take you up on the offer, both Minho and Jisung making a fuss about not spending your money on them. Where was this attitude back at school? you asked yourself, scoffing at Jisung’s refusal.

“I’m in the lead, I can’t afford to lower my inhibitions now!” Dom said. “But when I win, I’ll treat you to a pint, even though you’re canoodling with one of my opponents.”

“I’m starting to think you guys have something against me,” you accused the two non-participants as you handed Felix his beer. “What, do you think I’m broke?”

“We’re just gentlemen,” Minho said pointedly, shooting Felix a look.

“You are broke,” Jisung muttered.

“Watch it,” you shot, waving your drink at him. “You’re not getting a sip now.”

“Babe, I didn’t want a sip to begin with.”

“Okay, well even if you change your mind you can’t have one.”

He laughed and shook his head at the ground, walking back over to the teeing-off point with his hands on his hips.

Nikki was right, the afternoon did indeed pass a lot quicker with drinks in your hands. They kept you cool in the heat of the sun and the alcohol made the hours blend into each other.

In the latter half of the game, you started to pay more attention. You had finally begun to pick up what was good and what was bad from everyone else’s reactions to the shots and could actually tell for yourself.

“Baby, can you switch this out for the driver?” Jisung asked, holding his current club out to you.

“Which one is that?”

“The big one.”

You selected the club he described and passed it to him, taking the one he’d just used to put back in the golf bag. He kissed you when you met him in the middle to swap the two, smiling against you when he noticed Minho looking on.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whispered in your ear. “It’s too fun to fuck with him.”

Confused, you turned around to see what he was talking about only to see Minho standing a few feet away with his tongue in his cheek.

“Thanks, baby,” Jisung said, putting his hand on the small of your back to remind you of what you were doing. “You make a cute caddy.”

Minho mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t catch but you figured that was probably for the best.

After golf, you hung out with Jisung’s family at the pool for a few hours before heading back up to the rooms to get ready for dinner.

“Do we need to dress nice?” you asked.

Jisung peeked out from the bathroom to answer you, shaking his wet hair dry with a towel.

“Uh, not like nice, nice but nicer than just jeans.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

You turned back to your open suitcase and rifled through it in search of something that fit the dress code.

“By the way, where did you go last night?”

“With Minho?”

“Yeah, you were gone for like hours. I fell asleep and then woke up randomly and you still weren’t back.”

“Minho took me to some beach.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

You looked up. “Yeah. Why?”

Jisung shrugged. “Just wondering.”

You could tell he wanted to say more but you didn’t push. If you did, you’d only be hurting your own feelings. He had told you that himself. Jisung had been very clear that he wasn’t ready to talk about the Minho thing with you so all you could do was be honest and answer the questions that he asked, even if it was awkward and uncomfortable.

You were so used to guilt by now that you almost didn’t notice the fresh wave that washed over you. You knew it was wrong to still sleep with Minho after everything— hell, you knew it was wrong before everything, but neither of those facts stopped you from doing it.

You realized Jisung was still looking at you so you shook it off and picked up a random sundress from your luggage.

“How’s this for tonight?”

“Looks good to me.”

An hour later, you and the rest of the Hans were seated around a table in a dimly lit restaurant. The sundress had been the right choice. The place was right on the water and open to the outdoor air so all of the other patrons were dressed pretty similarly.

Jisung ordered for you after you looked over the menu together like always. Your hands rested on the table, fingers entwined for his family to see. You had been doing this for so long now that it was almost second nature to you. You had fallen into the routine a long time ago but you didn’t even have to think about it anymore. You probably wouldn’t even be giving the action a second thought had it not been for Minho staring at your hands from across the table.

It looked like he was zoning out, like he wasn’t actually glaring at you holding hands with his brother but you couldn’t be sure. You kicked him gently in the shin to get his attention. He jolted and locked eyes with you immediately, erasing any trace of subtly.

“You okay there, son?” Dom asked, patting Minho on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine. Just got a chill.”

Thankfully, everyone seemed to move past it and the conversation resumed. Dinner was otherwise uneventful. The boys recounted the golf game and Dom’s landslide win, while you just listened and nodded along when it felt right. It was a relief not to have to add anything to the discussion. You didn’t have the energy to.

Dom stayed true to his word from earlier and bought everyone a round from the bar at the restaurant. You weren’t a big beer drinker but you didn’t want to be rude so you suffered through the whole pint, ignoring Jisung’s worried glances from the side.

“You know I could have finished that for you,” he muttered.

“I don’t want to look like a pussy in front of your dad,” you hissed back. “He bought it for us. And I didn’t want to be left out.”

Your best friend scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll do anything to prove a point, won’t you?”

“You know me.”

Minho pulled you aside after dinner, once you were back at the resort.

“Think you can ditch your ‘boyfriend’?” he whispered as you both fell back a couple of steps.

You stopped. “What, why?”

“I just want a moment alone with you.”

“A moment or several moments?” you challenged.

He smirked. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“I can’t keep blowing Jisung off,” you sighed, “and neither can you.’

“You know he doesn’t want anything to do with me right now.”

“That doesn’t mean you should stop trying!”

“Look, can we not do this right now? When they’re literally right there?”

“You’re the one who pulled me aside right in front of them.”

You watched his jaw clench in frustration but he didn’t say anything else because he knew you were right.

“Can you ditch him or not?”

You sighed again and looked back to Jisung. He was in what looked to be a heated debate with Felix. You didn’t need to hear it to know it was over something stupid.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Jisung barely bat an eye when you told him where you were going.

“Okay, be safe,” he said as he kicked off his shoes.

That’s it? That’s all he had to say to you? You wanted to ask him just that, but you were afraid of creating another rift between the two of you. Jisung had said he wasn’t ready to talk about it so you shouldn’t push, right? But was it wrong to keep leaving like this?

Going back and forth with yourself was only wasting time and Minho was still waiting for you downstairs. Fuck it.

You grabbed a spare room key from the dresser, shoved it in the pocket of your dress, and left without another word before you could change your mind.

Minho was right where you left him, leaning against the wall by the elevator hub. He grinned when he saw you.

“Thought you’d never escape.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you let him lead you through the lobby by the hand. You were still wary of people seeing you together but the lobby was seemingly empty.

“Jisung didn’t care. It was me who took forever.”

Minho paused, letting go of your hand as he gave you a concerned once over. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about it. So, where are we going?”

He frowned, but only momentarily, quickly covering it up with a smile. “I- okay, um... remember how you said we don’t do ‘couple stuff’?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought maybe I could take you somewhere where we can do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m taking you on a date, silly.”

“Really? Where?” When he didn’t answer, you groaned. “You and your stupid surprises.”

“It’s more fun this way and you know it,” he insisted, tugging you along by the hand.

“I like being prepared,” you argued.

He grinned. “So be prepared for a good time.”

The drive wasn’t far at all this time but you were confused when he pulled into a crowded lot. You were even more confused when he didn’t turn off the car or more to get out of it.

You turned to him in confusion. “Minho?”

“Y/n?” he parroted.

“Where are we?”

“We’re on our date.”

“Yes, but where?”

“Did you not see the sign when we turned in?” You shook your head. He grinned. “It’s a drive-in.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think no one’s getting out of their car?”

“I didn’t really notice, to be honest.”

“Too distracted by your hot date?”

You didn’t spare him a reaction. “How’d you find this place?”

“I did some research the other night,” he explained, “when you, you know, we talked about it. I figured this is about as close as we could get to a real date. At least right now.”

“That’s… really thoughtful.”

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s nothing, really.”

“Well I was going to kiss you, but if it’s nothing—”

“No, no. I want the kiss. Give me my kiss.”

You chuckled, relenting as you leaned in. He met you halfway over the center console and kissed you sweetly. It was short but eager, just enough to leave you wanting more.

You had to remind yourself not to get your hopes up. Sure, Minho was showing interest in you now, but what about when this was all over? Would he want to do long-distance? Did he want to date you at all? You had been telling yourself that it was just sex all this time but now you were on a date... but what did it mean? You could just ask but you were scared to ruin the moment, ruin whatever it was that was actually going on.

You’d been asking yourself the same questions for weeks now and the scary thing was, it seemed like Minho was serious about you. He had all but said it outright to you. And here he was taking you on a fucking date. It was you who kept pushing back. You told yourself it was because of Jisung, but if you were being honest with yourself that was only half of it. You were afraid of getting hurt. You had never been in a real relationship before for that very reason. Well, that and you liked being single. It seemed favorable considering the dating pool of your university.

“I want another one,” Minho murmured, leaning in again.

“Nope, that’s all you get for now,” you teased, even though you did very much want to kiss him again.

His lips parted in surprise. “Wha- why?”

“Because I only promised you one! I can’t just go giving my kisses away, can I?”

“Sure you can,” he argued.

“That would lessen their value. I can’t wager them to get what I want if they’re not worth anything.”

“Your kisses are very valuable to me,” Minho insisted.

“Because I’m sparing with them.”

Minho inched even closer to your face, eyes trained on your mouth. “So I can earn them,” you started to nod, “if I’m a good boy?”

You almost choked on nothing, swallowing a moan. Minho watched your reaction with a self-satisfied smile and then settled back in his seat, turning his attention to the giant projector screen at the front of the parking lot.

“We’ll see,” you muttered hoarsely.

He hummed, still looking forward. “I’ll be good then.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lino x reader #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #lee know series #stray kids series

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drnikolatesla · 3 months

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X-Ray Image Taken By Nikola Tesla (1896)

Though not widely known, Nikola Tesla spent a great deal of time intensively researching X-rays, publishing his results during the period between March 11, 1896 to August 11, 1897. He also gave a lecture on April 6, 1897 presenting designs of several different devices that could generate these powerful rays. During this lecture, he shared similar data and conclusions from his earlier experiments with Crookes tubes in 1894. Crookes tubes were invented by British scientist William Crookes in order to study electrical discharges in vacuum tubes. During Tesla’s experiments in 1894, he observed that some of the tubes that produced only feeble visible light had more effect on photographic plates than tubes which were brighter. Since it was obvious that there must be some kind of energy coming from the tubes with feeble light, and their properties were still unknown, Tesla used the term “radiant matter" to describe these radiations. With these tubes, Tesla produced some of the first X-ray imaging, which he called “shadowgraphs,�� due to their dark nature, but still did not realize the importance of these radiations. To him, the photographs taken seemed to be spoiled due to unaccountable marks and defects. In March of 1895, a fire broke out in his laboratory, destroying practically all of his equipment and experimental data to date. It took several months before he could resume his work, and in the meantime, a German scientist named Wilhelm Röntgen made his X-ray discovery in the same year (December, 1895). Roentgen first detected the radiation by accident in his experiments where he was testing whether cathode rays emitted from Crookes tubes could pass through glass, and or other solid objects, but was astonished to find that the rays emitted would pass through thinner objects and leave shadows of the more solid objects behind (such as with skin and bones). When Tesla heard this news, it was immediately obvious to him what had been problematic in his laboratory work. Realizing and regretting that he had missed out on making a major scientific discovery, Tesla would say, “I realized that my guiding spirit had again prompted me and that I had failed to comprehend his mysterious signs.” He repeated Röntgen's experiments, and came to much better results than Röntgen and others since he had his newly developed Tesla Coil. With this apparatus, he immediately realized the importance of high voltages for producing powerful rays and suggested using his newly developed single-terminal tubes and connecting them to the secondary coil of the transformer. In 1896, Röntgen acknowledged Tesla’s discoveries and in a lecture before the Physical Medical Society in Wurzburg, Germany, discussed the advantage of using Tesla’s high-frequency transformer in generating X-rays. Tesla would also become one of the first scientists to point out the harms of these rays and developed safer ways to utilize them for medical use. Methods we still use today. On the other side of town, others like Thomas Edison thought these newly discovered rays could cure the blind. Many patients who were experimented upon starting showing terrible illnesses, one being his assistant who later had to have both arms amputated. Edison was quoted in an interview saying, “Don’t talk to me about X-rays…I am afraid of them.”

Nikola Tesla would later give all credit to Röntgen for the discovery, and throughout the next few years, produced some of the best X-ray imaging that even Röntgen praised. In a letter to Tesla, Röntgen wrote, “Dear Sir! You have surprised me tremendously with the beautiful photographs of wonderful discharges, and I tell you thank you very much for that. If only I knew how you make such things!”

#nikola tesla #science #history #x ray #X-rays #technology #invention #medical #electricity #quotes #ahead of his time #ahead of our time

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

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Gods & Monsters

pairing: Soldier Boy/afab!fem!reader

summary: delivering coffees to Vought’s crisis management team brings you face to face with Soldier Boy—who has a different job in mind for you.

warnings: pure, filthy smut (blowjob, fem penetration, slight predator/prey; slight orgasm denial) so 18+ only content; Soldier Boy b/c tbh he’s his own warning; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long hair (hair pulling); drug mention (coke in detail); title kink (sir); pet names (doll-face, sweetheart, doll); dubcon (coercion, imbalance of power); use of slut degradingly; choking; (light) slapping; spitting.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka bestie

word count: 3.3k

this is my first time writing for The Boys!! would love to hear feedback & requests are always allowed :)

—

Even before finding yourself at the mercy of a power-drunk supe, you’d had yourself a pretty fucked up day.

After spending your morning hunched over your desk at Vought trying, in vain, to piece together a script for the new upcoming Crimson Countess film (with a team of useless douchebags hooked on uppers) you had all but quit your job.

Then, of course, the afternoon came with its own set of troubles. Your supervisor had hurried over, wild-eyed and raving, to break the news of a PR scandal—you guessed one of the twins, it was always one of the twins—which called for all hands on deck; including yours, which were delegated to the indispensable task of retrieving coffees for the crisis management team upstairs. If you weren’t flat broke and more of a risk-taker, you’d never engage with anything supe-related ever again—but you were, and you weren’t, so you find yourself in the later hours of the evening delivering lattes to your higher ups on floors of the tower you’d never heard of before.

The elevator doors open and you come face to face with the poster-boy of the company. Your heart leaps as you recognize his face; it settles when you realize he’d never recognize yours. After all, you’d only met briefly once before: just last week, you’d finally spent time on set for one of Payback’s shoots. Assistant duties only, of course, but it had been thrilling to watch the supe and his team, nonetheless.

Needless to say, seeing him up close, now, is a completely different experience. No mask, no makeup—just his chiseled, gorgeous face and entitlement simmering in his green eyes.

“Good, you’re here. I was gonna go looking for you,” Soldier Boy says, unfazed by your paralyzing shock. Amused, he adds, “And you brought the coffee, too.”

You stand in the elevator, unmoving. Then, ever so slowly, you hand him the tray of full, steaming cups.

He laughs, wrinkles next to his eyes forming as he takes the tray. Your mistake seems obvious once the image of the company’s most expensive asset holding a tray of five cent coffees is on display before you.

He calls someone over from down the hall, and a wiry young man comes scampering over. “Take these to the assholes down the hall,” Soldier Boy orders. “And tell them not to fuckin bother me tonight.”

The young man nods fervently and speed-walks, tray in hand, back in the direction he’d rushed over from.

The elevator dings and the metal doors begin to close, but a large palm slaps them back in place. You watch as Soldier Boy peels his hand back, leaving indents in the steel.

“Where have they been hiding you?” He asks, leaning against the metal frame. His eyes flash with amusement as he scans your body up and down, making you wish that you’d worn a nicer skirt or ironed your shirt just a bit more carefully this morning.

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “I work in the creative department. Writing,” you say, determined to regain some composure.

“You the one that writes those fuckin’ anti-drug ads?” He asks, ever-so-nonchalantly.

“No,” you answer, trying not to meet his imposing stare head-on. ”I write the movies, the television scripts, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, you don’t look like a complete prude,” he jokes. ”Though I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” the supe adds with a wink.

He looks at you expectantly, something unidentifiable in the way he takes you in.

You don’t respond.

“Really? Nothing? Thought you worked in the creative department,” he taunts.

You clear your throat. “I do, sir,” you respond, your voice faltering with fake confidence. “And I really should be getting back,” you quickly add, reaching for the button that would take you back down to your floor.

A massive hand blocks your own, and you look up at the supe, frustrated.

He whistles softly. “Whoo, ‘sir…’ I sure like hearing you say that.”

Adrenaline courses through your entire body as he takes a small, controlled step towards you. Your mind races, trying to come up with some sort of escape plan, but it goes blank the moment you glance at that pouty bottom lip or notice the rugged curve of his jaw.

“Well, today’s your lucky day, doll,” the stranger says, his voice suddenly low and quiet, “‘cause we need you up here.”

“For what?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Something about the glint in his eye makes you want to run down the hall as fast as possible—to get away from this madman. He reminds you of a wild animal; you sense something ferocious and tense coiled up inside, begging to come loose.

And yet, something about the grit in his voice and the shape of his shoulders makes you want to play his game, to close the distance between the two of you.

See where it takes you.

He smiles and steps into the elevator, easing his way behind you and placing his palm against the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he grumbles into your ear. “You’ll love it.”

You look up at him, unsure of what to do and intimidated by his overwhelming presence, his demanding words. Like prey caught in a trap, every instinct screams at you to get away.

You don’t move.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, twisting a strand of your hair. There’s an edge to his voice you’d only ever heard between cuts, when the cameras weren’t rolling. “Wouldn’t want to upset an American hero, would you?”

You give in, allowing yourself to be guided out of the elevator and down the hall by his palm’s weight against your spine. He doesn’t even look at you; he only steers you forward into an enormous suite, lavishly decorated with all sorts of expensive fabrics, paintings, and furniture. It’s nicer than anything you’ve ever seen, yet Soldier Boy saunters in like it’s no more impressive than a dingy motel room.

The first thing you notice is a heap of white powder out in the open on a massive wooden table. The supe walks over to it and does a line through a rolled up twenty, jerking his head back and shaking his head.

“Want any?” He asks, turning his gaze back to you.

“No, thanks,” you respond, wary. “I like to be sober on the job,” you add, not wanting to sound judgemental.

He shrugs.

“What, exactly, did you want from me?” You ask, cringing at the naivety of the question. What he wants hangs thick in the room, it was heavy in his eyes from the moment you’d first met them.

He closes the distance between you and flashes a taunting smile.

“You don’t like coke? I got benzos, oxy, weed… really anything a girl could want.” He plays absentmindedly with the fabric of your skirt, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“All I want is for you to tell me what you want.”

“You sure have a way with words, doll-face,” his right hand finds its way to the front of your throat, stroking the skin there, gently. Every part of your body responds to the touch and unwelcome arousal clouds your thoughts as you try to keep yourself together.

He ducks down, his lips lightly brushing skin of your ear.

“I want to watch you take my cock in every way you can, sweetheart.”

Your body responds before your mind can process his words; suddenly, you’re having trouble standing upright as heat spreads across your core.

“I know you’ll be so good for me,” he adds, fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“Can I say no?” You ask, cursing how small your voice sounds. Despite your efforts, you’re sure he can hear your reluctant desire dripping off your every word.

He looses a low chuckle. “‘Course you can,” a pause as he places his palm against your cheek, “but you shouldn’t,” he finishes, flatly. “Besides,” Soldier Boy continues, his voice husky and deep, “all I’m asking is for you to get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use.”

You don’t know what makes you do it. Perhaps it feels inevitable; after all, you happen to be alone, cornered by the most powerful man in the world. Or maybe, just maybe, some twisted part of you wants to be at the mercy of this man.

Almost as if in automatic response, you feel yourself sinking to the ground, holding his stare like a tether to reality—a lifeline. He smirks with satisfaction, and, celebrating his win, unhooks his buckle for you to pull the length of him out. Your eyes widen, astonished by the sheer size and girth of him. He notices, of course, and gives you a lazy grin.

Asshole.

Begrudgingly, you accept that you want him. Still, you struggle to admit to yourself that this desire is quickly becoming much more than that.

Some starved part of you is desperate to satisfy this stranger in any way you can.

“Take all of it,” he orders, nodding down towards you. You obey, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and feeling him push down to the back of your throat.

“That’s fucking right, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy groans as you slide down the length of his cock, over and over. “That’s what this mouth was made for.”

He tugs at your hair, taking a fistful of it and forcing your eyes up to meet his. He thrusts forwards, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper—you give him everything you have. His intensity only builds and you find yourself choking, spit gathering in the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth.

“Fuck yeah, doll,” he groans. “You fuckin’ love that.”

You melt into his encouraging gaze, your eyelids heavy, your panties soaked completely through.

You nod in agreement and he loosens his hold on your hair. You pull off of him, gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting the two of you in pure need.

“Don’t you stop,” the supe warns, using one hand to guide his cock back into your mouth, the other pushing at the back of your head.

You go slow, now, blinking the well-earned tears from your eyes, savouring the feel of him against your lips, your tongue, the roof of your mouth. You put both hands to work and watch him remove the top of his suit, near swooning at the sight of his bare torso.

“You want me to fuck that pussy of yours?” He asks, making your clit throb in response.

Breathless, you utter a quick “yes,” before taking him back between your lips.

“Fuckin’ course you do,” he responds lazily, placing a hand on your cheek, running his thumb down your face, tracing the bone as he smiles.

“Then tell me you’re a slut who loves sucking cock,” he says gently, his torturous hand behind your head always guiding you to take more and more of him, keeping you desperate for air. “Isn’t that true?” He continues, arrogance soaking each and every syllable. “Don’t you fucking love having my dick in your mouth?”

You nod, dazed with lust, his low and gravelly voice undoing you in every way.

“Say it,” he commands, his voice severe—degrading.

You slide off of his length, continuing to please him with the use of your hands.

It comes out as a plea. “I’m a slut who loves sucking cock,” you tell him, earnestly, meeting the challenge in his eyes head-on.

His length twitches in your hand and you know you’ve done a good job.

Soldier Boy laughs. “Get up, sweetheart,” he orders, “bedroom’s on the left.”

You obey, lifting yourself onto shaking legs. Your kneecaps burn from the friction.

You round into a room with a huge bed, unmade silver silk sheets and a thin duvet cast upon it like something out of a movie. The moon’s glow shines through a massive window, illuminating the surrounding luxury. You hear a loud sniff followed by a sigh, then footsteps approaching your direction.

It’s impossible to take it all in. Barely five seconds pass before Soldier Boy is behind you, unbuttoning your blouse.

“You got a favourite way to take it?” He asks, ridding you of your shirt. “With tits like this,” he groans into your neck, roughly squeezing your breasts and running a calloused finger over each nipple, “I could watch you bounce.”

You shiver at his touch, aching for more. The feel of the supe behind your back is nothing short of maddening; his hardness pressing against you fills your head with thoughts so sinful they’d make the devil blush.

“I want to watch,” you decide, surprised at the strength of your own volition. “I want to see you fucking me.”

You wind up on your back at the edge of the mattress with Soldier Boy between your legs. Desire simmers into your very bones, threatening to undo you before even being touched.

He bunches up your skirt and slides a thumb down the middle of your panties. “Fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers to himself with a smile, shaking his head. He pulls them off roughly and sets himself up at your entrance, running his tip along your swollen clit one, two, three times.

“Stay up on your elbows and don’t look away—got it, sweetheart?” The stranger orders. You respond with a fervent nod. As he slides himself between your folds, you let out a soft gasp, watching his cock disappear inside you. He groans, then flashes you an arrogant smirk.

“Fucking desperate for it,” he says. “Look how good your pussy takes it.”

Placing his hands on your upper thighs, he sets a rhythm, slow and hard; all you can do is stare, open-mouthed, at the sight of his cock slamming in and out of you. You meet his eyes for a moment—his full of mockery and satisfaction, yours likely full of wild abandon.

“You like seeing me ruin you?”

Struggling to form words, you merely gasp out a desperate “yeah” and it sounds more like a question. You try to stay propped up on your elbows as the brutality of his thrusts intensifies—he fucks you harder and faster with every movement.

“Ohhh, fuck, yeah you do,” he answers, throwing his head back, a winner’s smile spreading across his face.

It feels so good you can hardly string together a cohesive thought. You reach out for something to grab onto and your fingers find his forearm, the indestructible muscles underneath tensing as you struggle to stay up. Soldier boy smiles down at your dazed expression, placing his hands on either side of your head as he leans forward.

“Open that mouth just a little wider for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, contrasting the roughness of his thrusts.

You obey, and placing his thumb on your chin, he spits in your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue.

“Swallow, baby,” he says, and so you do, moaning as his spit slides down your throat.

He ducks his head down. “Fuck that’s so hot,” he groans, finding your clit and drawing lazy circles on your pulsing, swollen bud.

“You’re a fuckin’ superstar, sweetheart, the way this pussy takes cock.”

The stimulation overwhelms you entirely. “I-I can’t hold on,” you gasp out, feeling a familiar warmth spreading from where his thumb plays with your pulsing bud.

He wraps a hand around your throat, forcing you to look deep inside his heavy-lidded eyes, his dilated pupils.

“Tell me how much of a slut you are for this cock and I’ll let you come,” he orders with a mocking smile.

You can feel yourself going, seeing stars from the feel of his thighs slamming into your ass, his length reaching deep inside you, and the hand wrapped around your throat.

The man certainly loved making you talk in moments where words were impossible to form.

Soldier Boy laughs. “What, fuckin’ cock-drunk already?” His hand momentarily leaves your throat to collide with your cheek, waking you out of your stupor, before wrapping around your jaw. His grip is controlled—it inflicts no pain but allows for no negotiation, either.

“Tell me you love it.”

“I love it,” you moan, barely above a whisper. All you can focus on is holding back your climax as his fingers continue to work at the apex between your thighs.

“Scream it,” he orders, slamming himself inside you. The violent sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, fills your ears.

“Please-“ you beg, the word coated in desperation.

“Fuckin’ scream it,” he demands, unbending.

He leans in deep, his cock grazing the sweet spot at your core.

Warmth and lust erupt from inside you.

Words become easy, now. “I love it, I love it, oh my god I love your cock,” you half-gasp, half-cry as your orgasm blossoms through your body. You tremble underneath him and he laughs, continuing to fuck you through the waves of bliss.

“Just a desperate fuckin’ whore,” he taunts, running his hands along your sides, your breasts, before reaching your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He pulls out quickly, leaving you panting, shaking, dazed, empty.

“On your knees one more time for me, doll,” he says with surprising gentleness, pulling you by the arm off the edge of the bed. “I wanna see you taste my fuckin’ load,” the supe says with a smile, again using a large hand to guide his length into your open mouth.

You take him in slowly, registering your own acidic taste on his cock. There’s a low groan from him, and then he’s holding both sides of your head steady and thrusting into the back of your throat.

“Fuck. Yeah.” He says, throwing his head back. You keep your eyes up, locked on him. When he meets your gaze, he groans, “god, you look a fucking mess.” He grins down at you, “I almost feel bad for getting you up here.”

You freeze and look up at him, his length still halfway down your throat.

He scoffs and smiles. “You really think they’d get someone from your floor to bring fucking coffees up here?” He palms your cheek, shaking his head. “I knew from the moment I saw you at the shoot last week—your little fucking clipboard and that short ass skirt…” he trails off, stroking your cheek as you stare up into his daring eyes.

“I knew I had to see you like this.”

His words send shivers down your spine. You know you should feel used, tricked, or stupid, but all you feel is grateful, special, at his having noticed you. That desperate desire to please him simmers fiercely in your blood.

Slowly, you begin moving again, running your tongue down the length of his cock before circling the tip, tauntingly, slowly, adoringly. He shakes his head and grins: a god between your lips.

“Good girl.”

You grab his hips to steady yourself, trying your best to stay still and take his whole length without choking, lightheaded from the lack of air.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You feel his cock twitch as a stream of warmth slips down your throat, salty and thick. He relaxes his grip and slowly pulls his length out from your mouth. “Look at me and swallow, baby,” Soldier boy whispers firmly, holding your cheek in his hand.

You close your mouth and swallow, trying to steady your breath as the taste of him lingers in your mouth. He smiles and wipes a thick finger along your lips.

“‘Could keep you here, you know,” he says softly, holding your face up to meet his drunken look. “Tie you up, fuck you till you forget who you are… you’d like that, wouldn’t you, doll?” He asks, his voice low, dark, and gentle—you ignore how sinister it sounds, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, turning into his palm and smiling.

Soldier Boy’s soft chuckle fills the room, and he leans down to take your face in both his calloused, firm hands.

“You’re a fucking star, sweetheart,” he says. “You’re my fucking star, right?”

You gaze into his darkened eyes, wondering how in the world you came to be in this position.

It didn’t matter.

You were here now, and you wanted more. Needed more.

“Right.”

Your answer is met by a look of utter male satisfaction, Soldier Boy’s eyes filling again with animalistic hunger.

You’d be his for as long as he’d have you.

#soldier boy #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys s3 #jensen ackles smut #the boys x you

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292pantone · 1 year

Text

Okay! Time for some Glass Onion analysis bc I'm already obsessed with this movie.

GLASS ONION SPOILERS AHEAD READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

I've seen people saying that it was unnecessary for the movie Glass Onion to be set in May 2020 during the height of the pandemic, and that it took away from the movie, but I disagree. The specific setting is relevant because of all the movie's subtext about the Black Lives Matter movement and its resurgence in May 2020. Hear me out- there are several parallels between Andi's death/Helen's avenging her death by wrecking the mansion, and the riots in 2020 following the unjust deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and many others.

To begin with, there's the power dynamic between Andi and Miles. A mediocre, unexceptional white man stole the contributions of a brilliant black woman and got away with it because his influential friends closed ranks around him in a system designed to benefit him. He got the benefit of the doubt and weaponized the legal system to financially ruin her. Even though she was telling the truth, no one believed her, and Miles fully expected this pattern to continue once her sister Helen took up the cause.

Miles burns the incriminating evidence of his lies and flat-out tells Helen that no one will ever believe her with only circumstantial evidence. Even Benoit Blanc acknowledges that his skill as a detective can only go so far without the police and courts on his side.

In the case of police brutality, cops similarly weaponize the legal system and avoid accountability for their murders by closing ranks through police unions that invoke "qualified immunity" (aka shielding the cops from legal liability). The privilege of white men, compounded by their wealth and connections, makes it difficult for them to face actual consequences for the harm they do.

We see the concept of avoiding consequences again with Miles' crew of "disruptors", all of whom rely on his money to bail them out of trouble. Birdie was implied to have done blackface, made tone-deaf comments comparing herself to Harriet Tubman, completely ignored all COVID restrictions, and tweeted ethnic slurs to the point where her assistant had to take away her phone, but her line of loungewear still takes off thanks to Miles' financial backing. In response to the latest scandal, personal assistant Peg says "We will do what we always do! Deny, half-apologize, then go silent awhile." Despite her litany of offenses and half-assed attempts at accountability, no consequences stick to the privileged Birdie either.

However, Helen refuses to accept this unfair state of things. In a situation where she appears powerless, with her sister gone and the valuable napkin burned, Helen essentially goes "fuck that" and makes Miles pay for what he did anyway. If the law won't take her side, she has to take it into her own hands. This is where the parallels to the 2020 riots come in.

We see her smashing the symbols of Miles' wealth, starting with his glass sculptures, and at first the other characters don't mind. They cheer her on from the couches, even though they all just refused to testify for her in court. This parallels the performative activism seen in many celebrities, who would rather watch from the sidelines and say vaguely supportive things rather than do any meaningful action to change the system. The other guests are happy to break the glass sculptures alongside her, saying how cathartic it feels, but they get antsy when she moves on to breaking more valuable things instead of giving up after a short while like they did. The camera shots of Helen smashing things and lighting a fire linger uncomfortably long as it starts to sink in that this isn't just a momentary temper tantrum. The so-called "disruptors" wince and gasp and exclaim how a piano belonged to Liberace and so on, completely ignoring how THE DESTRUCTION IS THE POINT, because if Helen only broke safe, acceptable targets, then it wouldn't actually mean anything. Similarly, when people rioted in 2020, there was a huge amount of pearl-clutching by people saying rioting is going too far, and can't we all just be nonviolent and have unity and forgive each other? In both cases, there's a veneer of support from people who just want the victims of injustice to "get their anger out of their systems" and move on without any serious changes being made.

I find it very fitting that Helen burns the Mona Lisa with Miles' own unregulated hydrogen fuel cell, using the override switch that he carelessly installed. She exploits the natural consequences of his self-centeredness so they all catch up to him at once. In the end, Helen's acts of protest do disrupt things and lead to change, even as people tell her she is going too far. Once Helen does the actual work of tanking Miles' reputation for good, only then do the "disruptors" jump ship and promise to back her up in court. They're willing to take the side of justice only when things have shifted to the point where it's the better act of self-preservation. If there was any chance of still hanging onto Miles' golden titty and making his reputation their hill to die on, they would've done it.

Blanc, the protagonist of the movie, gives Helen tacit permission to burn everything down by handing her the chunk of hydrogen fuel. He stands by her the whole movie and takes her seriously, demonstrating a path to better (non-performative) allyship.

Glass Onion shows that lasting change has to be demanded, not wheedled, and that sometimes things have to reach an undeniable crisis point to do so. In other words: protest is necessary.

#discussion #glass onion #knives out #glass onion analysis #black lives matter #knives out analysis #benoit blanc #miles bron

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imaginedanvrs · 5 months

Text

my demon gave me everything

part 4 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 5.2k

warnings: established kidnapping, abuse, power dynamics, degrading, strap on sex, manipulation

Natasha was proud of herself when she heard you cry behind the very much not soundproof door. For one, she liked how you looked when tears were streaming down your cheeks and she could imagine it picture-perfect just from the sound, it was too pretty of a sight not to have glowing in her head. For another thing, she had been worried she broke you too soon.

The way you had let the redhead fuck you the night before was…different. None of the other girls had given in so quickly, not to mention been so soaked. You hadn’t even been with her a full twenty four hours and you were practically begging to have Natasha’s fingers inside you. She wasn’t necessarily disappointed in that because it had been quite the sight to be the first one to touch you, but if anything that should have made you even more wary about it.

The spy had wondered if perhaps your lack of experience with relationships and intimacy had made you too innocent, that you were so naive that the first sign of physical affection was one that you perceived as good. But then again, that hadn’t been your first impression. You had fought back only hours beforehand. Then the following morning, nothing. The numb look plastered across your face in the shower was one that Natasha only saw once she had completely broken someone down to nothing, void of all sense of self or hope. But you weren't wet so Natasha didn’t pursue, there was no fun in that for her. She much rather enjoyed making a woman wet so that they could be far more ashamed after.

Yet even after that, giving yourself to the Avenger and becoming so broken after, you still wanted to leave. She hadn’t gotten to you yet, she wasn’t sure why, but Natasha was glad of it. She had put a lot of work into getting you in that building with her, what a waste it would be if her fun was over so soon. She could only hope your turmoil lasted at least another month. It was hard to tell. Usually Natasha could precisely predict how long someone would last after the first day, but for you she just wasn’t sure.

A single chime from Natasha’s phone pulled her from her thoughts, knowing what it meant before she even took a glance at her device. A brief message from Tony explained S.H.I.E.L.D were having some transportation issues and needed the Widow to assist them. The redhead sent off a confirmation text before putting out her cigarette and heading towards the bathroom where you were still sitting on the shower ledge.

You didn’t look up when Natasha opened the door and strolled in, observing the burn you were nursing with concern. So precious. “I’ve got to go out.” The redhead announced. You kept your attention on your leg. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be but if I’m not back by the evening don’t bother trying to make some dinner, most of the electricity is turned off when I’m not here.” She continued, you listened carefully to that but showed no signs of acknowledging. Natasha knew you heard. “There’s crackers if you get hungry.” She said finally as she walked away, leaving the door wide open so you could hear her retreating footsteps and the beeps of her unlocking and relocking the main door behind her. You figured you should at least try and get a general sense of her security system but knowing that so much power went out when she left was definitely a blow. You scowled at the irony you were sure wasn’t lost on the redhead.

Once you figured you had put the burn under cold water for long enough, you left the bathroom and studied the apartment before you. Still adamant on finding a way out, you strolled around the wide space scanning for anything you hadn’t spotted before. You knew the kitchen and the bathroom were a bust and the living room was too vast to provide any help to you, so you set your eyes on the impressive stairway and made your way up. The steps were especially chilling under your bare feet but you tried to ignore the sensation once you reached the door and examined the thick barricade.

You tried the handle for some dumb luck and was unsurprised to find no lean way so you scanned the keypad for any signs of continued use of specific keys. Again, you went to try the first combination you could think of but on the first number the light flashed red and an abrasive sound of denial came from the lock. Confused, you tried every number but every time you were met with the same sound and light. Defeated, you carried on down the steps, knowing it was useless to wait outside that door in hopes of surprising Natasha when she got back.

Continuing back into the bedroom, your gaze fell to the balcony door and you immediately rushed to it thinking it would give way but it was of course locked. You sat back on the bed, feeling defeated and emotional again. You were just so tired and homesick and cooped up. You began wishing you hadn’t pissed Natasha off before so that you would have enjoyed more time outside but swiftly denied myself to ponder on that. I will not strive to make that psycho content just so she can give my ‘outside time’.

You despised the feeling of being some common animal that was being kept in a cage to adjust to a new life. You weren’t her pet and you refused to stay there any longer, so with a sudden burst, you charged at the window and kicked it as hard as you could. Nothing. So you kicked again, and again and again. Not even a scratch. You kept going until your legs and foot grew undeniably sore and collapsed against the glass in a heap, beginning to sob once more.

You spent the entirety of that day on the sofa wrapped up in some blankets you had found in the bottom of Natasha’s wardrobe. You had wanted to stay in bed, but laying there only reminded you of what you had done in it with the redhead, stirring up feelings and thoughts you didn’t want to process. So instead, you stayed on the sofa and watched how the sky and city transformed throughout the day, too tired to grow bored of the sight.

The TV didn’t work and you genuinely weren't sure if it was because the spy had turned the power off or if she had just never used it and therefore hadn’t ever set it up. You assumed the Avenger had an excessive collection of computers and electronics in the flat, but none of them were anywhere you could access them so you were limited to the windows for your entertainment.

You had thought about asking Natasha for a clock or watch of some kind. You hated not knowing exactly what the time was as you were only able to make a rough assumption based on the sun’s position. The time you had spent wondering had started to make you irritable. You aimed to bring it up to the redhead organically although how easy that would be you weren’t sure.

It was strange not having her there. Even when she was out of sight, Natasha’s presence filled every inch of the space in the apartment and without her it almost felt like there was too much space for yourself. You had no idea what to do with it, so you confined yourself to one spot and strived to not let her overtake your thoughts. You knew you needed to keep thinking of a way to get out but you just wanted some peace from anything to do with her.

The sun was setting when Natasha got back, so it must have been at least seven. You didn’t lift your head in her direction when you heard the two beeps and locks opening, or even when her boots thudded against the staircase as she made her way down. You made a point of keeping your eyes trained on the city while hers examined your state as she trudged across the room towards you. You wondered if she was tired.

You finally looked up at Natasha once she stood in front of you within arm’s reach. She had a white plastic bag in hand that seemed to have two small boxes within it. “I’m back.” She announced. You clenched your jaw and looked away, wishing she could’ve given you peace for an hour longer. “Come eat.” She made it sound like an invitation, but you both knew she wasn’t really offering so after a beat you dragged yourself from the makeshift security of the blankets and towards the table.

Natasha had put the food onto some plates that she laid on the table and went to grab some cutlery while you sat down to inspect the contents. It looked to be an italian salad with a small amount of dressing drizzled over without touching the croutons or tomatoes. Just how you liked it. A large part of you was suspicious of the dish in front of you, especially as you hadn’t seen the redhead prepare it and had no clue what could be secretly hidden in it, but you hadn't eaten all day and the colourful salad was undeniably tempting. But also, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care what could be in the food. You were too tired to play Natasha’s mind games and timidly roll the dice she put before you. So as soon as she put your cutlery down you dug in and finished the meal in a matter of minutes.

You felt perfectly fine after you swallowed the final bite and took the time it took Natasha to finish to study her as subtly as you could. Her auburn hair was plaited with a few loose tendrils hanging loosely infront of her face. Any other time you would have admired it. Apart from that, she looked no different and while of course you had no idea what she had been called away for, she had been gone a long while so naturally you were curious. You wondered how often she would be away for such a long period of time and if it would ever be longer. Would it be something you might be able to see a pattern in after a while? Unlikely. Threats to national, international and intergalactic security wouldn’t be so threatening if they had a rota to abide by.

“Clean up for me, malysh,” Natasha said with an unexpected gentleness. She didn’t look at you as she said it, nor while she walked past you but there was no doubt it lacked her usual demanding undertone.

You took both your plates and cutlery and brought them up to the sink to begin cleaning but caught sight of the kettle before doing so. You didn’t have any bad intentions with it, you genuinely just wanted a cup of tea for some familiarity but the last you had looked there had been no tea bags anyway so you sighed and continued to wash up. By the time you were done Natasha was back though you hadn’t seen her walk past you and once you stepped away from the kitchen you found her sitting on the sofa in the exact spot you had been lying in. You glared at the back of the spy’s head but eventually began trudging over.

The closer you got, you noticed that the redhead was reading a book she must have been keeping upstairs. The cover of it suggested it was a French murder mystery set in Paris, not usually your thing but you were so eager for something to do you would read any similar novel she might be keeping upstairs.

You perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa as far away from the spy as you could while her eyes ran across the page swiftly. You glanced at the TV and wondered if it worked now that Natasha was back so you picked up the remote you had left nearby and tried the main button. A blank screen stared back at you so you looked to Natasha to see if she had acknowledged it. Her attention stayed on her book.

“Could you turn the TV on?” You asked after half a minute of awkward silence. Natasha turned over another page. “Please?” You forced out after a beat but the redhead continued to ignore you. You sat back slowly and pondered your next words. “You know it’s pretty hard to tell what the time is…” you started. “Maybe I could have a small clock or watch or…something,” you suggested but it fell on deaf ears. You stared at Natasha for a short while longer, waiting for any indicator she had even heard anything you had said because you knew she had just like you knew she could feel you watching her.

As soon as you could feel yourself grow frustrated again, you got up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom, figuring that putting space between yourself and the older woman was the best way to stop yourself from doing something reckless. So instead, you started brushing your teeth and washing your face as you knew you weren't going to be doing anything else, you might as well go to bed. You didn’t really want to, but you also didn’t want to be near Natasha and that made your options very limited.

Some time later you heard the Avenger enter the room though with your back to her you were confused by the sound of a heavy thud followed by Natasha dragging something across the floor. You frowned but didn’t turn to look, aiming to appear asleep. Even when the redhead disappeared into the bathroom you didn’t dare sneak a glance and what she had brought in and felt the ever present sense of unease grow, like a child during bedtime convinced there's a monster in their room.

When Natasha returned you could hear the sound of a lock turning, helping you imagine some kind of box the redhead had brought in. You strained your ears more and just about caught the sound of a buckle and something else being tossed on the bed before Natasha removed her clothes and put them for the wash. More shuffling and eventually she was moving the covers back and shuffling towards you. You froze until you were suddenly being shoved onto the floor. You braced yourself for impact just in time but still dazed nonetheless. This time, you gaped back at Natasha just as she grabbed a handful of your hair and dragged you up to your knees to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for you to kneel between them and stare openly at the black harness she wore and sizeable dildo attached.

“Get it wet for me, detka.” Natasha instructed, her voice as husky as it was the last time she had you in such an intimate place. Your eyes snapped at hers and you could immediately sense that she wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer. Her eyes were dark and drunk on a power she knew she held every second that you were in that apartment but particularly when she had me like this.

She grabbed the silicone toy with her other hand when you were too dazed to respond and slapped it a little across your cheek impatiently. “I- I don’t know-” you stammered at the unpractised scene you found myself in. Of course you had watched porn and read smut with this but you had never done it and now that you actually could you found yourself intimidated by the toy presented to you. It was bigger than anything you had ever used on yourself and you were suddenly very unsure of what you were even meant to do.

“It’s not hard, malysh,” Natasha huffed and pushed the head past your parted lips without any warning. “Even a dumb mutt like you can do it,” she said before taking both hands to the back of your head and forcing you down on her strap. You immediately tried to brace yourself by grabbing at Natasha’s thighs but this proved no help when the toy hit the back of your throat and you began to cough and gargle. Through tear filled eyes, you tried to look at the redhead pleadingly for some leanway, not understanding that this only worked her up more and she continued to push you down until your nose was against her stomach.

You hit her thighs with as much strength as you could muster as she held you in that position, desperate for air and a break on your burning throat, until she pushed you off her toy and let you gasp for air while she kept you close. You coughed and wheezed in a panic, not even noticing the tears streaming down your face or the spit on your chin. All the while Natasha soaked up the view until you had gotten enough oxygen back into your body. Your breathing still wasn’t normal and you weren’t ready to try again, but the more experienced woman forced her strap into your mouth once more, this time guiding you to roughly bob your head on her toy. She didn’t make you take the whole length every time, easing the pressure off of your throat and instead making your jaw ache from the unfamiliar action.

Her fingers had a hold of the majority of your hair and tightened every so often just to make you whine at the painful sensation of her pulling on your scalp. Just because she could. “That’s it, we just gotta loosen up that sensitive little gag reflex of yours, don’t we?” Natasha cooed and bucked her hips just to hear you gag and prove her point. You gave a muffled protest around the toy and the redhead chuckled.

“God, I could keep you like this for hours,” the spy breathed out as she watched a fresh set of tears start up in your eyes. “I bet that would just turn you into a cockdrunk whore, huh?” She spat and when you didn’t even try to respond she pulled the strap away and slapped you. Your head didn’t spin too far to the side due to her unwavering grip. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you said, voice hoarse and weak.

“That’s yes daddy,” Natasha corrected and your cheeks heated up.

“I…” you started but one warning look from the redhead was enough for you to correct yourself. “Yes daddy,” you said and was ashamed to feel your cunt clench around nothing as the words left your lips. Natasha smirked and hauled you back onto the bed before pushing your face into the pillows and lifting your ass up. You went to squirm away but she placed a firm hand on your waist as she lined her cock up with the other and ran it through your embarrassingly wet folds.

“Wait!” You tried but Natasha was already dragging the dildo up and down your slit, allowing you to hear just how wet you were for her and making you bathe in shame before she pushed the thick toy inside you.

It was a strike of blazing hot sensations. Every inch of Natasha’s cock was thrust inside you within a split second and just like that, she was anchored inside you and you were bound to her. Every nerve in your body was ablaze while not a single cell in your brain could respond. Everything was alight and it was blinding yet you could do nothing to stop it and would do anything to keep it. Then suddenly Natasha withdrew and forced herself in again and you became entirely too aware of the stretch, of the size, of the fullness. It was all far too much but you were trapped between the redhead and her bed and not a single muscle within you was strong enough to even attempt to move.

To add to it all, you could feel your slick on your thighs and heard yourself moan into the pillow. You couldn’t help it. Any of it. It hurt so much but it felt so so good. It was entirely too easy for Natasha to pump her cock into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim every time and sending your nerves into a frenzy.

“I knew you’d fucking love this,” the redhead grunted as she planted her hand into the back of your head and used it as leverage to fuck you better with. You clenched around the toy the moment she did and she smirked, thrusting her hips wildly against you and revelling in the mess she had made you become. You were a puddle in her bed and could only rely on Natasha to build you back up again. Not yet though. She wanted to play with you first and took her time in doing so.

Natasha was insatiable, never getting enough of your desperate whines every time she pulled back too far or waited a moment longer to push her cock back into your cunt. She edged and teased you relentlessly for hours, making you beg for things you never dreamed you would. You gave yourself to her and allowed the spy to do whatever she liked with you under the illusion that she would make it all better if you did, that she would set you ablaze in the most euphoric way imaginable. She was everything.

You passed out after cumming numerous times, collapsing in a heap and letting the exhaustion clock you out for the night. Luckily, Natasha was too and content to let the rest of her attention to you be for the sole purpose of cleaning you both up, not wanting to have to deal with it the next day. She was amused to find she was even able to change the bed sheets without you stirring. Granted, it was your first time in some sense of the word and the redhead had worked you far past my limits as she had intended to.

Natasha watched you sleep for a while before she even considered it for herself, knowing you were going to be flat out for a long time. She was glad that you weren’t still numb to sex, that that morning had just been some disassociated state that she wondered if she would find you in the next morning. She didn’t much care if she did, but she was still curious to know because Natasha was still finding you challenging to predict. She hadn’t expected you to become so willing again so soon yet seeing that you were allowed her to think about how she could take things with you. There was still some trial and error to be done, but Natasha was gradually figuring out the best ways to break you.

You felt nothing but achy when you woke up. You grimaced at first until you realised the main area of the discomfort and sunk further into the bed and found yourself more mortified than you had been the morning before. How had you let that happen again? Except it was far worse than last time because Natasha really hadn’t had to use a knife to threaten her way into your pants.

You were grateful to find she wasn’t lying next to you but listened out for any signs of her in the bathroom or kitchen, getting nothing. You hauled myself from the bed, set on the shower as quickly as possible to try and feel clean again and hoping it would be more effective the second time around. Thankfully it was, though that may have been partly due to the absence of any unwanted company as you lathered myself in soap, even washing your hair as swiftly as possible.

Staying in the shower, you felt your muscles start to relax under the steaming water and were able to focus on the sounds and feelings surrounding you for a few moments of bliss that you wouldn’t end up regretting later on. It was only once the heat started to make you light headed that you dried yourself off and headed back to the bedroom.

That’s when you noticed the notepad left on Natasha’s side of the bed. You started towards it with some apprehension and as you got closer you noticed there was a HB pencil and square rubber laying next to it. No sharpener. The notepad had no lines inside and was the type that was held together by two thin pieces of cardboard on either side.

“Behave and I’ll get you a treat.” That was what Natasha had said. “Like a notepad.” You scoffed and threw the ‘gift’ back down on the bed next to the clothes the redhead had lain out for you. Instead, you made your way over to the wardrobe to get something else and rummaged through all the options.

You were tempted to piece together an outfit with the spy’s leather jacket and combat boots, just to piss her off, but you thought it best to try and stay on her good side for a while until you could figure out a stable plan to get out. Sure, not going through her clothes would be a good way to do that, however you were getting tired of walking around without trousers so you grabbed the first pair of sweatpants you saw and paired them with the shirt and fresh underwear Natasha had left out. You yearned for the comfort of your own clothes and headed for the kitchen.

There was still no sign of the redhead as you searched her cupboards for something to eat and settled on some fruit left in the fridge. As you began eating, you wondered if you would be able to use the pencil as a weapon. Sure, it wouldn’t be as good as the knife, but used with enough force it could be something promising. Natasha clearly didn’t deem it much of a threat or she wouldn’t have given it to you. Then again, you figured she had left you the knife just so she could use it against you. You couldn’t underestimate her again.

When you finished your breakfast and washed up the bowl, you paused next to the oven for a moment, remembering that Natasha said the power would be off whenever she wasn’t there. You turned the dial and waited for the sound of something igniting and upon hearing nothing determined that the redhead was out. You smiled at the small victory of knowing you could use that method to determine her whereabouts in the future. It was progress.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for your mind to wander back to your night with the redhead, replaying the very vivid memories of the degrading ways she touched and talked to you. And how you had reacted. So you soon caved and went back to the bedroom to retrieve the notepad and supplies and brought them back to the sofa that still had several blankets over it but had since been folded neatly. At least you could both appreciate tidiness.

You tapped your pencil against the notepad as you studied the city before you. You already spent countless hours staring out at it, you just weren't used to sketching landscapes. It took several attempts to start, but once you realised you weren’t going to be sharing the final result with anyone, you allowed your hand to roam freely across the page and began collecting the buildings together with your pencil, eventually becoming immersed in the art the way you often did.

You gave voice to the chaos of the city and the confidence to the skyscrapers that acted as the foundations and the awe of the people below. You sauntered around the apartment to get all angles and different insights, different stories, different ages. All expressed across numerous pages in the notepad until the sun dispersed behind the buildings and the true nightlife got to shine across new pages.

You didn’t even realise Natasha was home until her shadow fell over the notepad. You jumped, knocking everything off of your lap and backing away from the redhead who watched you with a bemused expression. Her hair was still in a plait. You liked it like that. She trudged over to the kitchen and put a pack of beers in the fridge, keeping one for herself and taking it through to the bedroom where you heard the balcony door slide open and partly shut.

Trying to ignore the redhead’s presence, you turned back to the notepad and put pencil to paper only to see the stump of lead had come out. You tried to put it back in like you used to when you were too lazy to fetch your sharpener but the lead was too short and kept falling back out. You huffed and glared in Natasha’s general direction before gathering everything and taking it to the balcony with you where the Avenger sat smoking.

You leant against the sliding door, facing the side of Natasha’s profile, as you spoke. “Thanks for the notepad and pencil,” you wondered if it sounded as forced to her as it did to your own ears. “And the rubber,” you added dutifully. “The lead just fell out of the pencil though so…” She didn’t respond so you let the statement hang in the air as you tapped the notepad against your leg and thought of something else to say and realised the redhead hadn’t acknowledged the additional clothing you were wearing. You glanced at her and registered a far away look across her face and wondered if she had a bad day.

No. You refused to feel bad for her if she did. She deserved it. Well…wishing a bad day on her felt uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be upset, you just wanted her to stop making you upset.

You didn’t know what else to say. Small talk was never a strong suit of yours. “Shall I…make some food?” You tried. You weren’t hungry yourself, you didn’t have the biggest appetite at the best of times and the past couple days didn’t make it any better. You also weren't planning on making a meal for the redhead out of the kindness of your heart. You just wanted something to do after a day of nothing but drawing. Natasha didn’t reply and you realised you didn’t really know what dish you could make out of the ingredients the spy had anyway. Cooking wasn��t one of your strong suits either. At least you could draw buildings.

Figuring there wasn’t much more you could do or say, you went back inside and got yourself ready for bed, surprised to see that Natasha fell shortly behind and you were somewhat thankful that she didn’t want a meal prepared. Perhaps she had had dinner with the Avengers. The thought almost made you bitterly laugh.

As soon as Natasha was in bed, she was on you. Mouth everywhere, hands everywhere. She made swift work of your clothes and despite yourself, you helped her. Not because you wanted to be on her good side, not because you wanted to distract her, but because as soon as she made her move you forgot you hated her and only knew you wanted her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel #dark!natasha x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff smut

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

Accidents Happen

Family is More than Blood AU

Summary: When Carol has a nightmare and hurts you with her powers, your sisters don’t take it to well.

Warning: A whole lot of angst, mention of a nightmare, mention of injury

Word Count: 3.1k

Natasha was a little surprised to find you in Wanda’s room sitting on her bed while the Sokovian was in her closet. “Hey Nat,” you said when you noticed her in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I was just looking for you,” she leaned against the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Oh!” Natasha watched the smile grow on your face. “Carol is taking me on a date and I’m running out of date outfits so Wanda offered her assistance.” Wanda stuck her head out of the closet and smiled at the Black Widow. “Do you need something?” You asked. Natasha smiled, shaking her head but she felt a weird feeling bubble in her chest.

“Nope,” she said. “Have fun tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You laughed and your attention was back on Wanda as she stepped out of the closet with a few dress options. Natasha walked out of Wanda’s room as soon she was a good distance away her smile fell. It seemed like every time Yelena or her tried to do anything with you Carol seemed to have something planned. It was frustrating but Natasha had never seen your smile so big. She felt that feeling again deep within her chest. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. She gasped, stopping in the hallway. Jealous. She was jealous of the time you and Carol were spending together. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling, and walked into Yelena’s room.

“Is she not coming?” The blonde asked. Natasha shook her head. Yelena sighed but she smiled. “That’s okay! We’ll still have fun.” Natasha smiled, pulling her sister into a hug.

“You're right,” she said. “Now we can gossip about her.” Yelena giggled, the smile not reaching her eyes.

“Tonight was fun,” you said, walking into your room with Carol close behind.

“It was,” you squeaked as you felt her arms wrap around your waist pulling you flush to her chest. “You looked beautiful tonight,” she kissed your shoulder and you felt goosebumps form over your skin. You pulled out of her arms with a smirk.

“Help me take the dress off,” you said, walking into the bathroom. Carol followed you without hesitation.

You lay awake next to Carol tracing shapes on her skin. She was fast asleep next to you, laying on her back. You knew you should get some sleep as you promised Yelena you would go on a morning run with her but your mind wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t believe this was your life. You were out of the Red Room living with your sisters and the Avengers and going on dates with a girl you liked. It was your dream come true.

Whimpers coming from the woman next to you broke you out of your daydream. You sat up slowly to look at Carol. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and a thin line of sweat was covering her forehead. A nightmare. “Hey darling,” you whispered. “Wake up for me. You're safe. It’s just a nightmare.”

“No,” Carol mumbled. “Not her. Please.” Your heart broke. “Take me. Take me.” She began to thrash in her sleep. You had to wake her up before she hurt herself.

“Sweetheart, wake up. Come back to me.” It happened rather quickly. Her hands began to glow and before you could get out of the way, a blast from her powers hit you directly. It sent you flying backward and you hit the wall hard. Stars covered your vision as you slid down to the ground. You hissed in pain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Fuck,” you barely could make out Carol sitting up in bed. But her eyes found you instantly. “Y/n,” Carol stuttered.

“It’s,” you winced. “It’s okay.” Before Carol could move over to you, your door flew open and you saw your sisters running over to you.

“What did you do?” Natasha barked at Carol. It was becoming hard to keep your eyes open.

“Carol,” you mumbled. “Accident.”

“Get away from her,” you heard Yelena snap. “We need to get her to the med bay.” That was the last thing you heard before the world went dark.

You woke up extremely thirsty and in the med bay. There was a pounding in your head as you tried to sit up. “Hey,” you heard Wanda’s voice. “Take it easy.” She helped you sit up.

‘Water,’ you thought. The Sovokvian handed you a water bottle and you downed the entire thing. “How long have I been here?” You asked her.

“2 days,” she said. “Your injuries were pretty extensive. Helen had to use the cradle,” you looked down at your arms and saw that the burns were gone. Your skin felt normal, and some of your old scars were gone. “The serum saved your life.”

“Where’s Carol?” Wanda sighed.

“I don’t know,” but she wasn’t being fully honest, she wouldn’t look at you. “I saw Natasha and Yelena talking to her,” she bit her lip. “I heard Steve saying she took off for a mission.” Your heart skipped. You tore the IV out of your arm and stood up. Your legs were a little shaky and you ignored Wanda calling out for you as you left the room.

“Hey,” Natasha said, walking over to you with Yelena and Maria. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and the ache radiating from your body. Her poker face was amazing but you knew your sister and everyone had a tell. There was a small twitch of her left eyebrow. “What did you say to Carol?”

“Nothing,” she said. She was lying. “She could have killed you.”

“It was an accident,” you admitted. “She was having a nightmare and woke up and reacted. How many times have you hurt Maria because of a nightmare?” You asked.

“It’s a little different,” Yelena said, not allowing time for Natasha to answer. You looked at the blonde. ‘We don’t have powers as she does.” You looked at them in disbelief.

“It’s the same thing. We wake up from a nightmare sometimes out of control,” you heard Wanda walk next to you. “So I’m going to ask again. What did you say to her that caused her to leave?” You asked.

“We didn’t say anything,” Natasha said. “Now come on you need to rest,” she moved to grab your hand but you pulled away from her. You didn’t believe her. Carol wouldn’t just leave without making sure you were okay. Right? Right?

“Natalie,” you said slowly. “Stop lying to me.” You held her glare. Finally, she sighed.

“I told her that it would be best if she wasn’t here when you woke up,” your stomach flipped and the color drained from your face.

“What?” You questioned. “Why-why would you do that?”

“She could have killed you,” she took another step towards you but you backed away from her. You needed space. “She’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” You questioned.

“We just want what’s best for you,” Yelena added.

“Best for me?” It was hard for your brain to connect what they were saying. Your brain was short-circuiting. “You wanted to do what was best for me but you made a decision that wasn’t yours to make,” you said. You rubbed your head. “You did it for your benefit, not mine. Why’d you do it?”

“Carol-”

“Stop,” you hissed, cutting Natasha off. “Stop making this conversation about her when her hurting me was an accident because if she was in the right state of mine she wouldn’t hurt me or anyone of us,” you hated this rage that was building inside of you especially since it was directed at your sisters'. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why did you tell her to leave?” Still, they didn’t answer. Your sisters were as stubborn as a mule. So you focused your attention on Maria. “You’ve been quiet over there,” you said to her. “Did you not have a hand in what my sisters did?” She crossed her arms, a clear scene of protecting herself.

“I did not,” you hummed, looking back at Natasha and Yelena. The youngest couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I could always ask Wanda,” you said. “Have her take a peek inside your head.” They both had a physical reaction to that. Natasha through her arms to the side with a huff.

“Carol has been hogging you for weeks. We barely get to see you.” You blinked at her, allowing her words to sit with you.

“Jealousy,” you said, slowly. “You told Carol to leave the compound because you were jealous.”

“Well,” Yelena said. “There is more to it than that.” You laughed.

“Oh, is there?” You asked. “Because do you want to see it from my point of view? You are selfish,” Yelena’s eyes began to water. “If there is a problem you come talk to me and not take matters into your hand and pushed away someone I l-care about,” you stopped yourself from admitting something you weren’t sure about. “I’ve admitted to both of how jealous I am of the life you’ve got to live and I’ve never tried to break it apart. You-” your voice cracked. “Is this why you never came back for me?” You hit a nerve as Natasha’s face morphed into sadness.

“Y/n,” she said.

“I guess I don’t deserve the same happiness, right?” A part of you regretted saying it. “You didn’t want me to steal what you already have.”

“Please stop saying that,” Yelena pleaded. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it hurts, doesn’t it?” you shook your head and pushed past them. You ran to your room, using the adrenaline to push past the pain. When you got to your room, you immediately called Carol unsure if the call was going to go through. You paced back and forth listening to it ring. “Hey, can you call me when you get this? Please. I’m not mad at you. I just want to talk.” You hung up, biting your nails. You called her again and like before she didn’t answer. “I don’t know what they said to you but I’m okay. I just need you to come home.” You hung up. You called three more times throughout the day, leaving voicemails and text messages but she didn’t respond.

After 24 hours since you woke up from med bay you had enough. FRIDAY told you Tony was in his lab with Rhodey. You stormed in. “Woah,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “Where’s the fire, Big Spider?”

“I need you to send me to space.”

“Excuse me?” The billionaire questioned.

“This is about Carol, right?” Rhodey asked. You ignored him and stared at Tony.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” you said, placing your hands on the table. “You are either going to send me to space or give me a way to speak with Carol. Because I’m this close,” you put your fingers close together. “To lose my fucking mind.” You cleaned closer to him. “And trust me, Tony, you don’t want to be on my warpath.” Tony gulped. His eyes nervously glanced at the man sitting next to him.

“Okay,” Tony said. “We have a direct line to her ship that we use for emergencies.”

“And this seems like an emergency," Rhodey added.

“Follow me.” You followed Tony to a conference room where a computer was set up. “Just press enter and it will connect.” You nodded.

“Tony,” he faced you. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled. You sat down at the computer and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. It was wrong to take your anger out on Tony when it wasn’t his fault. You made a mental note to apologize to him. Your heart was in your throat as you hit enter and waited for the video to connect.

“Stark is there -” her voice cut off as she saw you. She was standing in the hallway of her ship.

“Please don’t hang up,” you said suddenly. “Hi,” you whispered. She looked tired, bags underneath her eyes. “I’m not mad at you. I wasn’t sure if you got my messages.”

“I did,” she said. That hurt a little more than you thought as she was ignoring your calls.

“Oh, okay,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t know what they said to you to make you leave but it was an accident. I know you would never hurt me. What hurt more was when I woke up and the one person I wanted to see wasn’t there,” your throat burned as you tried to keep the tears back. “When will you be home?”

“Mission will take about a week,” you nodded, unable to look at her anymore. You angrily whipped away a tear.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Sweetheart,” the pet name caused you to look up. “I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what she was apologizing for but you nodded and ended the call. You closed your eyes, tasting the salt of your tears. Every wound or bruise you’ve gotten didn’t hurt as much compared to this feeling. Your heart was hurting. You were fighting with your sisters and Carol was avoiding you. You fell to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest. You covered your mouth to quiet your sobs. Your entire body shook. When was the last time you let yourself cry this much? You heard footsteps walking over to you. Through your blurry eyes, you saw that it was Wanda. Without saying anything, she knelt next to you and hugged you.

“Every-everything h-hurts,” you cried against her.

“I know,” she said, running her fingers through your hair. “I need you to breathe for me.” You shook your head.

“I can’t,” your lungs were burning. You couldn’t bring in enough air. “Help,” you pleaded. “Help me.”

“Are you sure?” Instead of answering you brought her hand to your temple. You closed your eyes. Soon your mind went blank and you fell into a deep sleep.

Four days passed since the nightmare incident, and everyone besides Wanda and Vision knew to stay out of their way. You weren’t talking to Natasha and Yelena, even ignoring Melina when she called. Your blood still boiled every time you thought about what they said. You were cutting into a peanut butter angrily when FRIDAY said, “Miss. Y/n, your presence is being requested at the helipad.” You dropped the knife and ran to the elevator, praying for the metal machine to go faster. When the elevator opened, you were standing in front of Carol.

“Hi, stranger,” you said, slightly out of breath. Carol chuckled.

“That’s my line,” she smiled. You hesitated unsure of where she was at. She opened her arms, silently inviting you into a hug. You ran over to her, jumping into her arms. She tensed up slightly but soon relaxed against you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she kissed the top of your head.

“What are you apologizing for?” You asked, stepping back slightly.

“For hurting you when I had that nightmare, for not being in the med bay when you woke up, for everything,” you smiled, placing a hand on your cheek and moving your thumb against her skin. She leaned into your touch.

“I had to admit it hurt,” you said. “We are a team and when things get tough we figure it out together.”

“I could have killed you,” she whispered.

“And the same thing could have happened if I woke up from a nightmare. I’ve almost broken Alexei’s arm,” she looked down but you forced her to look at you. “We’ve all been through some shit that has affected us but we are stronger together, right?”

“Right,” she smiled. You moved your hands behind her neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Her smile grew and she kissed you. You didn’t realize how much you missed kissing her. Her lips were soft against yours and she made your heart beat against your ribs. “Come on,” you said, ending the kiss. “I want to hear all about space. You need to take me up there.” She put her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “But wait, I thought you said the mission was going to take a week.” Carol hit the button for the elevator.

“I got a call from Natasha,” she led you into as the doors opened. “She said I’m needed here more than in space.”

Natasha closed the book she was reading when someone knocked at her door. She sighed, closed her book, and walked over to the door. It was a surprise that you were on the other side. You haven’t spoken to her since you stormed out of med bay which Natasha understood but she wished you could talk to her. “Can I come in?” She nodded, stepping out of the way. Natasha closed the door and sat back on the bed but you didn’t join her. Instead, you crossed your arms and stood by the foot of her bed. “Carol told me you apologized.” Natasha nodded.

“Yelena and I both did,” you nodded. “I am sorry. You were right. I did what I did for myself and not for you.” Your jaw clenched but you took a deep breath in and slowly let it out.

“I said some things that day I’m not proud of and I’m sorry,” Natasha knew there was more. “But I’m still mad and I-” you cleared your throat, hugging yourself tighter. “It hurt, Nat, really bad. I feel like I have everything I missed out on; you and Yelena, a family that cares about me, and a girl that likes me.” You looked at her. “Everything you’ve had for years. I have now.” Natasha forced herself to look at you when all she wanted to do was look away and let the tears fall.

“Sestra, what can I do to make this right?” You sighed.

“I don’t know,” you said. She felt the wall she built up come crumbling down. “I still love you and Yelena but I need to figure it out. I need to be selfish for once in my life.” Natasha nodded.

“Of course, we’ll be here,” you nodded, turning to leave but Natasha said your name which caused you to stop. “Sila v pravde (Strength is in truth).” She watched your shoulders shake but you didn’t turn around and walked out of her room, closing the door behind you. It was a phrase that you said to each other when you lived in Ohio. You tried to continue it in the Red Room but Natasha kept her distance. Natasha closed her eyes, expecting the tears to fall but they didn’t. She felt oddly numb. No bruise or broken bone or gunshot could compare to this ache she was feeling. All she wanted was to go back in time and undo what she did. She wanted her sister back.

Part 2

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