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calummss · 7 months

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Sweet Ultraviolence | Klaus Mikaelson

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summary: it was no secret that klaus mikaelson felt for you, but you didn’t, maybe deep down but not enough. so how do you react when the nortorious serial killer gives you the most fucked up surprise?

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 4k

a/n: scene taken from the sexiest ahs scene ever. here’s a link !! probably my favourite klaus fic i have written. also smut!! i’ve written smut?? i’m not a smut writer so if it’s bad pretend it never happened….

‘Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean it means anything.’

‘This date?’

‘Don’t call this a date.’

‘Why?’ Klaus asked,grabbing his wine glass, his gaze sitting on your frame as he sipped the red liquor. ‘We’re at my house, eating a lovely dinner with a beautiful girl. By my definition it is a date.’

‘Please,’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you felt the warmth of the fireplace hit your bare skin, engulfing you in a hug. ‘You are fully aware of why I am here so let’s not read something into this.’

Sitting at a table with Klaus Mikaelson was not as romantic as it sounded. The dark walls pushing in on you, a dark gaze staring at you, darkness that made up the house. Even the plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables seemed less appetising as they normally would. Maybe it was the blood seeping out of the flesh that made you feel agitated, maybe it was the notorious vampire serial killer that so desperately wanted you to be his.

‘Still,’ he paused for a second, ‘you came.’

You yourself took a sip of the white wine you had mixed with sparkling water, the subtle bitterness biting your tongue, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol leaving a familiar taste of comfort.

‘Klaus, sometimes I think you are so delusional, like how are you functioning?’

‘I function just fine, love.’

‘Get me another one of these,’ you held up your glass, lifting it to your red painted lips to drown the last drop of its contents. ‘And maybe I’ll continue to act like I am loving this dinner date from hell.’ You gave him a wide grin displaying your obvious sarcasm.

Klaus smirked, his twisted smile making your stomach churn. This would be a lot easier if he weren’t attractive but of course the maniac looks like he was carved by Lucifer himself.

‘That’s a tempting offer.’

He barely lifted his hand signalling the compelled boy that he wanted something. ‘Another white wine with sparkling water for my ravishing date, Taylor.’

‘Wow,’ you jested in fake astonishment, ‘so intimidating. Raising your hand, getting whatever you want…do you enjoy it? Getting everything with the snap of your fingers.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You compel people to do stuff for you. Don’t you want people to do things because they want to? Care for you?’

‘No one cares about me, love.’ He chuckles, ‘I’m the monster, remember?’

You didn’t reply. You stayed silent, staring at him being the only communication amongst the quiet room, only the cracking of burning wood to be heard. ‘Why do you like me?’ You shoved the potato around your plate, using it to smear the watered down blood across the porcelain.

‘What’s not to like?’ Klaus shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into the chair, the definition of his abs to see seen through the thin material of his shirt.

You looked up from your plate. ‘Just answer the question, please.’

‘You’re like a ray of sunshine on a bad day. When I’m near you I feel you good nature rub off on me—makes me want to stay close. You’re kind even if not to me, you treat everyone the same and give chances to people that probably don’t deserve them. You help when help is needed and disregard yourself for others. You’re beautiful. You smell good, and the fact that I cannot have you makes me want you even more.’

‘I’m not something you can own, Klaus,’

‘I can’t own you love, but I can own your heart if you let me.’

Again you stayed quiet, scared that if you speak he could hear the smitteness in your tone, knowing that for a second he had gotten under your skin.

‘Admit that you are drawn to darkness, Y/n,’ his eyes stared into the most inner part of your soul, ‘even the purest of heart are drawn to it.’

‘I never said I’m not, Klaus,’ you took a sip of wine. ‘I like darkness. The unknown, the excitement…Just because I don’t like your darkness Klaus doesn’t mean I’m denying my thoughts or feelings.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

‘You aggravate me.’ You downed the rest of your drink again, setting it down with a loud thud.

‘Makes you more attractive.’

‘Taylor?’ You smiled over at the boy Klaus had compelled for tonight’s dinner, that what you had hoped anyway, ‘Do you by chance have any earplugs, sweetheart?’

Taylor’s eyes grew wide, pressing his lips together as he turned his head towards Klaus for further instructions. Klaus felt his stare but continued to stare at you with a grin.

‘What are you staring at, Taylor? Get the lady some earplugs.’

Taylor left soon after, leaving the two of you alone which made you chuckle at Klaus who didn’t deny your request.

‘What?’ He asked plainly.

‘Nothing.’ You cut a piece of the steak and let the blood coat your tongue, continuing to feel his eyes linger on your for the rest of the night.

A week later and you were back at school. Vacation was over and reality hit. Thankfully you were seeing Mr. Saltzman today. A class you could pay a little less attention to since you sat in the back of the room, daydreaming away. You were too busy talking to friends that you didn’t realise a pair of eyes that stalked you from afar. Eyes watching your every move.

Finishing up the conversation you said your goodbyes to Dana and Heather and turned around to head towards the gym but when you took a step back you collided with a body making them stumble and spill their drink on the floor.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay?’ You reach out to help Connor find his balance but he slapped away your arms, letting out a deep growl.

‘What is your fucking problem, bitch?!’

‘Excuse me?’ You drew your eyebrows together. It was clearly an accident. Why was he getting so worked up?

‘I said what is your problem?’ He came dangerously close.

‘Hey,’ his friend pulled him back, trying to reassure him that it was an honest accident.

‘You better apologise.’

‘I literally apologised, asshole. How about you pipe down on your ego and take a long second to reevaluate your life? Pathetic.’

Connor’s face turned red, his strength releasing him from his friends grip, his face too close to yours for your liking. ‘I’ve disliked you since I’ve known you, Y/n. Don’t give me more reasons to hate you.’

‘Get a life.’ You laughed out loud.

‘You better watch your back!’

‘Okay, Connor. Will do.’ You called after him as he left the scene,his head turning your way as you cleaned off the few drops of water that caught themselves on your fabric. Chuckling to yourself, you headed the way you were supposed to go and headed towards cheerleading practice, the anger giving you a surge of adrenaline that reassured you that you were going to nail the landing you had failed to complete for weeks.

Klaus had watched the scene from afar, his eyes trailing Connor as he walked past Klaus whose forehead creased, his eyes turning lifeless as he turned around and followed Connor to wherever it was he was heading to.

Practice was good and you were right; you managed to pull off the stunt earning you praise from the coach, letting you know that if you keep up the good work you will be the best cheerleader Mystic Falls ever had. You hated saying it but you lived off of praise. Was there a better feeling than being seen for your hard work and determination? Not really, but that was your opinion. You headed towards the locker room, your red cheer uniform starting to slowly take up some of the sweat from practice. It was late. Everyone went home instead of you. You wanted to perfect the new choreography and stayed long after practice ended. So when you entered the locker room it was dead silent. The squeaking of the locker made you flinch as you placed your water bottle into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to take out your bag to change when you heard the sound of droplets hitting the floor. Wet drops. Only then had you noticed that your feet were also wet. And it wasn’t sweat…it was too much for it to be just that… When you looked up to where the sound was coming from you froze. Staring up at the ceiling just above the lockers, the body of Connor hung from the wall. Broken arms and legs that were twisted inhumane. His intestines spilling from his torso, head hanging from his neck like it was about to fall off. His blood was dripping onto your locker, the smell of blood prominent and not something that could be ignored. As you stared up at him, taking in his lifeless body, a faint smile spread across your lips as you thought back on the scene earlier in the hallway.

‘You like my surprise?’ A voice sounded from behind you and you knew exactly who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around, too fascinated by the body hanging like a spider.

‘You did this?’

You heard his footsteps come closer, his heavy footsteps giving away his exact location whenever he moved, so much that after a few seconds you knew that he was standing right behind you, him too staring at the body.

‘I didn’t like how he talked to you or his lack of respect, his entitlement.’

You rubbed your lips against each other, turning around to slap Klaus across the face, feeling a painful sting across the palm of your hand, grabbing a handful of his shirt and getting up on the bench looking down at him. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows, his eyes bigger than before. Fear. Fear that he had fucked up the last chance he had of being with you. Scared that you would never ever look at him again. Fear that he had lost you before he even had you.

You took your finger and slowly dragged it across his face, pulling down his bottom lips as you stared at him. ‘That is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever done for me,’ you stared into his eyes that were still wide, your lack of transparency making him feel sick. ‘That’s so hot.’ You dragged out, taking that fistful of his shirt and crashing your lips onto him, your hands roaming his hair, tugging as you felt him against you. His tongue running across your bottom lip, tasting what he had craved for so long. He continued to place wet kisses down your cleavage, continuing to kiss your legs, holding onto your ankle as he came face-to-face with the blood on your foot. Looking up through his lashes he saw you wipe away a single tear, inhaling the scent of blood before dragging his tongue across the top of your foot, licking the sweet taste of blood. Coming back up to kiss you again, you could feel his hot breath ricochet off your cheeks, his growling making your cunt ache from between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

‘I thought you hated violence.’ He breathed, allowing you to catch your breath.

‘I was wrong.’

‘Does that mean—‘

‘Shut up and kiss me.’

Klaus had never shut up so quickly, pressing his body against yours wanting to be one with you. Ripping off his shirt you felt him against your skin. His fingers curled around the hem of your panties, dragging them down your legs. You curled the finger around your top, ready to take it off but Klaus’ hands shot up to hold them still. ‘Don’t take it off. I want to fuck you in it.’

You suppress a moan as he lowered his head underneath your skirt, feeling his breath on the inside of your thighs, already making your legs tremble. You let out a quiet yelp as you felt his tongue licked your slit, closing his lips around your clit as he started to swirl his tongue around your cunt, sending vibrations through your stomach as you moaned. ‘Fuck,’ your hands grabbed his hair, trying to give yourself some stability. Klaus noticed your legs growing weaker. He picked you up with your legs over his shoulders and laid you down on the blood covered floor, feeling the blood go up your ass. Klaus continued to suck on your clit, concealed groans vibrating against your cunt, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as his tongue focused on your most sensitive spot. You could feel your thighs go numb from holding them up. Your breath becoming shorter the more Klaus dragged his tongue across your cunt, collecting your juices, making you realise you were about to come. You felt your muscles contract, your legs starting to shake as the knot tightened faster than it had ever before.

‘Fuck,’ you pressed air past your lips, ‘please don’t stop.’

Close to coming, Klaus gave one last suck before you felt your stomach explode, squirming underneath him as he continued to flick his tongue over your sensitive clit, making your body shudder with aftershocks.

‘Fuck Klaus, fuck fuck fuck.’

You felt Klaus press a kiss on your cunt before coming out from underneath your skirt, catching your lips so you could taste yoursef.

‘You like this don’t you?’

You nodded.

‘You like the way I touch you?’

You nodded again, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt again.

‘Stop,’ you breathed, stopping his hand trailing down to your cunt that had craved his touch the moment he stared into your eyes. ‘Let me,’ You slowly dropped to your knees, blood staining them s you reached for his trousers, starting to unbuckle his belt, your fingers slipping off the buckle.

‘What are you doing?’ Klaus let out a suppressed smile, his head hanging low to see your hands undoing his belt, your lips caught between your teeth.

‘I want this.’

‘My cock?’

‘Yes.’ Another deep breath.

‘I thought you hadn't done this before?’

‘I haven’t.’ Having undone his buckle and strap, you grabbed his front pockets and pulled down the rough fabric, the bulge beneath his boxer meeting your eyes, a warm heat spreading through your legs. ‘But how do you know that?’

‘Watching you is my favourite pastime.’

‘You’re fucked up…’

‘So are you, love.’

Taking a gulp, you pulled down his boxers to release his cock that sprang against his stomach. Your breath caught your throat. It’s big. Klaus could feel his pre-cum pumping through him just thinking of your innocent lips tucked around the head of his tip. His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs, as you watched him come towards you, knowing that his size would make it hard to breathe. His hand stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre-cum. You grabbed his thick pulsing length, a groan leaving his throat as your fingers wrapped around him. You leaned over, carefully licking his tip, slowly building your way to sucking on his head, spitting on it as you wet his pink cock.

‘Fuck,’ Klaus hissed, his dirty blond curls falling back as his hand tangled itself in your hair.

You gagged on his size, but you refused to let go of him, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. Saliva filled your mouth as you focused, moaning against him as he gently started thrust in and out, not wanting to hurt you.

‘So, so eager for me, aren’t you?’ He groaned.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum dribbled from between your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his pink lips. The slight sound of you gagging letting his moans increase in sound.

‘Such a pretty face. Look at you.’ He glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking my cock. Your first time having a cock down your throat and you’re doing so well.’

A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn’t help it, you were so turned on. You needed him. You need him inside of you soon. Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Klaus tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing length, earning a huffed moan. You continue stroking him, your hand gliding along his shaft, your own arousal starring to grow

‘You’re so fucking good at taking my cock,’ he thrusted in and out of my aching mouth. ‘Your first time and you already know how to send me over the edge.’

He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe. You gasped out for air, before he slid back inside of you. Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, the salty taste mixing in with your own spit. You pulled in your lips around his cock, sucking harder, your tongue pressing up against the head and circling around it. Your lips and throat we’re starting to turn numb, every thrust releasing a tear, every salty tear mixing with the shaft.

‘Look at me,’

Your eyes shot up and stared into his.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth; hot jets hitting the back of your throat. ‘Be a doll and swallow.’ He worked hard to suppress a moan, jerking himself through his orgasm. Both of your chests were heavy—you had almost forgotten what breathing felt like. He huffed and dragged his fingers across your face, stroking your cheeks as he stared at you with sparks in his eyes. ‘You did so well, my love.’

Carefully grabbing you by your throat, Klaus pulled you up and swiftly turned you around, his hard cock pressing up against your firm ass as his hands glided over your tits, smearing the blood across your uniform and cleavage; drops of blood running down your chest as you placed your arms behind your head as Klaus started to place kisses again the thin skin on your neck, gently sucking on it, making the hairs on your body stand up.

‘God, you’re so fucking hot.’

You hummed in response, his mouth on your neck making it hard to concentrate.

Klaus brushed the tip of his cock against your slit, teasing you as his moved it along your cunt, adoring the way you whimpered at his slightest touch.

‘I thought you were a gentleman and wouldn’t fuck a girl so shortly after the first dinner.’

‘I’m not a gentleman tonight, my love. You make it hard to control myself,’ Klaus whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your spine that stopped before it reached your toes as he thrusted into your core making you shout out.

‘Oh my god, Klaus. Fuck you feel so fucking good.’

His cock stretched out the walls of your cunt that welcomed him, each thrust slowly adjusting to his size. His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving trails of dark marks. Hickeys or blood, it was hard to tell. You could feel the blood slowly dry out on your skin, but new blood spread across your body as Connor’s blood continued to seep out of him, letting you and Klaus be covered in his surprise. He began to pump his cock out of you with pace. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, asking for more. Throwing your head back onto his chest as one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your waist.

‘Not satisfied darling?' He smirked against your skin, picking up pace as he pounded into you. Your tits moving with every thrust, the sound of skin filling the locker room.

‘You're so fucking tight.’ He grunted into your neck. 'It's like you were made to take my cock. Look at you, taking my cock like the good girl you are. Who would’ve thought you were so sick and twisted?’ You felt a new bundle tighten in your stomach. ‘Fucking in a school locker room covered in blood. God made me immortal because you are my match. Fuck, you feel so good.’

Those words felt like fireworks exploding inside of your gut.

‘Shit!’ You cried out in ecstasy, as he pulled you into a climax, sending your body over the edge. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, and filled you up with his cum. Klaus stayed inside of you for a few seconds, breathing heavily as a sweat pearl rolled down his forehead, holding you tight in case your legs were to give in.

‘Your body was made for me.’ He huffed. Klaus slid his cock out of you, staring at you, slowly lowering you to the red messy floor, setting you down before laying down next to you, holding his head up with the palm of his hand.

You took a few seconds to breathe, catching your breath as your high started to fade, catching a glimpse of the body up high. ‘You can’t leave that there. I’ve got class at seven in the morning.’ You mused, gazing at Klaus who had blood spread across his chest. He looked so hot you could fuck him again.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ he reached for the bag behind him. ‘I know how to clean up messes. I’ve done this for over a thousand years.’ He placed a cigarette between lips, pulling out a lighter and taking a drag of the hot smoke. He truly was irresistible.

‘Have you killed a lot of people?’

‘Yes.’

You grabbed a knife that laid behind your back, the knife Klaus probably used to cut certain parts of Connor. ‘Would you kill me?’

Klaus took another drag over the cigarette, the smoke making his voice sound deeper than it was. ‘No.’ He shook his head.

‘Would you kill for me?’

Klaus stared up at Connor pointing at him, ‘You have to ask?’

‘There’s this guy, Dean Gabriel. He took away the only person I ever loved.’ You said, staring at the knife, feeling Klaus prop himself up. ‘He violated my sister. Made her feel disgusted, defiled her without her consent. She took her own life because that man ruined her life in twenty minutes. And whilst she is no longer here, he gets to roam around like nothing happened…’

Klaus leaned forward, his voice sounding huskier, ‘Just tell me where he is and he won’t see any more sunrises after I find him.’

Gazing at the knife, you swung your leg over Klaus to straddle him.

‘Promise me he’ll suffer.’ A tear fell down the apple of your cheeks, ‘I want it to be painful.’

‘I promise.’

You lowered yourself to kiss him, your tears mixing with the blood on your face as your heart was finally lighter than it had been for a while. All because of a surprise you enjoyed more than he had anticipated.

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toruro · 8 months

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— ✧ cry for me

i want you to cry, cry for me (twice)

pairing: lee chan x reader

description: in which you're holding back tears in a cute little restaurant because you spilled wine all over your lap, and chan is holding back a raging boner.

a part of the crybaby series (can be read as a standalone)

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, ft mingyu for a second

tags: tattooist + tattooed chan, crybaby reader, established relationship (they're so cute it's disgusting), dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), wall sex, petnames (baby, crybaby, princess), chan has a chest tattoo and i think that deserves it's own warning

w/c: 5.1k

a/n: i am a woman of my word: i finished it tonight! thank u to @rubyreduj iand @gyuswhore for looking this over for me when i thought i was going crazy. anyways, i hope u guys missed me actually writing. writer toruro is BACK!

Pretty and short satin skirts are saved for nights like these. Under the dim glow of the moonlight and stars, the soft fabric falls loosely over your soft thighs and the beautiful curves of your hip. The cool night breeze pinches at your skin as you shuffle toward your boyfriend, hugging his arm that’s already linked with yours even closer to your chest.

Chan hums when you press your cheek against the cool leather of his jacket, “What is it baby?”

“‘m cold,” you mutter, pressing your legs together in an attempt to preserve what little warmth you have left. In hindsight, wearing this skirt probably wasn’t a good idea knowing that it’d be on the chiller side tonight but still, you couldn’t help but want to doll yourself up.

“Here,” Chan says, and you nearly whine when he pulls his arm away, but the complaints die on your tongue when he takes off his jacket and slips it over your shoulders, leaving him in his short-sleeve shirt.

“But—” you protest, running your fingers over his bare arm and frowning, but Chan cuts you off before you can speak further.

“Wear it baby, it looks nice on you,” he says casually, holding his arm out so you can wrap yourself around it again and hold him close. You feel warm, partly because of the protection that Chan’s jacket provides but mostly because of the way your body flushes with heat at his affectionate words.

The two of you are standing outside of this restaurant that you’ve been aching to try for ages, waiting for your names to be called in. As you settle back into his hold, Chan pulls out his phone holding it at an angle so the both of you can read the messages on the screen when he scrolls through your friends’ group chat.

“You wanna go to Jeonghan’s place tomorrow?” you ask, noticing Jeonghan complaining about being bored since Jihoon never leaves his room. Chan nudges your head with his own affectionately before shrugging.

“I’ll go if you go.”

You frown. “Well do you want to?”

“Baby if you want to, then I want to,” Chan says with a chuckle. “And anyways—”

“Chan! Table for two!” the voice of the hostess from the entrance of the restaurant calls out, and the two of you perk up. Chan raises a hand and nods, gently tugging his arm out of your grasp and instead slotting your hand in his, pulling you to follow after him inside.

The hostess greets you kindly, and you’re thankful that indoors is much less cold and much more inviting as she takes you to your table where you and Chan sit across from each other.

“What were you saying?” you ask as you settle into the seats, slipping off Chan’s jacket and handing it to him.

He only holds his hand out, palm facing you, and shakes head with a smile. “Keep it. Anyways, I was saying that I’ve been meaning to talk to Jeonghan for a while since he said he wanted to get a tattoo done.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that as you carefully drape his jacket over the back of your chair, scooting forward. “No way! Jeonghan always told me he’d never get a tattoo ‘cause he’s scared of needles.”

Chan laughs and his eyes light up. “Didn’t you say you were scared of needles? Look at where you are now …” he murmurs, eyes glossing over the little crescent moon on your arm, and then the small star that he had the privilege of pressing into your wrist just a few weeks earlier.

You shift in your seat and shyly nod. “Yeah but … that’s different. I think I might’ve chickened out of the last part if—” Your breath hitches in your throat and you stop yourself from finishing what you were about to say. If he hadn’t fucked you in that tattoo parlor right there and then, is what you both are thinking.

Chan grins at the way you grow flustered at his words before changing the topic. “I like this top, is it new?” he asks, eyes glossing over the blue, knit shirt that you put on for him just an hour earlier.

“Yeah! I got it to match the skirt—I’ve had this one for a while though, but it didn’t look nice with any of my tops I had until now, so I was really excited to finally get to wear it,” you tell him with a grin, hands smoothing over the satin and brushing over the plush of your thighs. Your stomach fills with a wave of giddiness when Chan smiles at you and nods.

“I’m glad. You look really pretty,” he says, reaching over and grabbing your hand. His gaze doesn’t falter, eyes on you as you continue to tell him about how you thought the shirt was sold out when you found it online you cried (Chan remembers; you called him with choked sniffles at midnight and almost hung up right away out embarrassment but he assured you that it was okay), rubbing a thumb over your skin as you speak.

You two fall into conversation naturally after that, waiting for your food to come as your fingers intertwine and sit in the middle of the table comfortably. The waiter starts off with your drinks—a wine for you each—before bringing out the appetizers.

Things go smoothly as they always do: the food is amazing and the setting is perfect, Chan’s hand grazes over yours ever so often and his eyes are on you in a loving gaze—everything’s going great, actually.

So maybe that’s why you let it get a little to your head when you hear the clanking of glass against glass.

It happens so quickly—the sound reverberates through the room and you blink once and then twice, looking down to find the growing wet spot on your cute little skirt. The feeling of wine against your skin hits you next, and when you look to your right and see the apologetic look of the waiter as he scrambles for the glass on the ground, it sinks in.

Fuck, and there it is again—that ugly feeling that clogs your throat and the furious blinking of your eyes as you try your best (you really, really do try your best). Chan knows it all too well, the way you press your lips together and try not to quiver as you reach down and try to help the waiter.

“What the hell man?” Chan exclaims, standing up from his seat in an instant to walk over to you, his eyes set as a hard glare on the waiter as he observes the growing stain on your precious little skirt.

The waiter stutters for a moment, reaching forward to dab a napkin over your lap, but your boyfriend stops him midway, swatting his hand away. “Watch it—” Chan peers closer at his name tag as he snatches the napkin from the waiter’s hand, “—Mingyu. You’ve done enough.”

“I-I’m sorry,” the waiter, Mingyu stutters out, holding the dropped wine glass behind his back as he shuffles away.

Chan glares at him hard as he presses a hand against your back, and if your vision wasn’t already so blurry you might have been intimidated by how intense the gaze was. Instinctively, you turn your face towards his figure as you feel other customers’ eyes over the little scene unfolding at your table. “C-can we go?” you ask him quietly.

It doesn’t take him more than a second for Chan to turn to Mingyu and mutter, “Just get us the check. We’re leaving.”

Mingyu nods bashfully and scurries away, but you don’t really notice because you’re chewing down on your lip as your boyfriend pats your back and leans down to watch you apologetically. Fuck, you feel so pathetic for crying over this but you can’t help it! You really can’t!

You’ve been looking forward to this night for so long and have been planning this outfit for even longer, and now that both your night and your pretty little skirt are ruined, you swear you can’t stop the tears from falling.

Chan hates it when you cry. Well, that’s a lie. It’s a fickle thing, really—the anger that bubbles up inside of him whenever he sees your eyes red and brimming with tears isn’t directed at you—fuck no—but rather whatever (in this case, whoever) caused it in the first place.

So yeah, you could say Chan hates it when you cry, but then again, he finds it cute when you call him, sniffling over your favorite croissant being sold out at that cafe down the street you always go to. He hates when you waste tears over things like this, but he also knows you can’t help it, and there’s something oddly endearing about the way you always lean in to his touch for comfort. After all, you’re his sweet girl, and he loves all of you; the parts of you that cry over seeing a kitten struggle to cross the street and the parts of you that sob when he’s shoving his cock into your warm cunt.

All of it, he loves all of it.

So maybe that’s why Chan can’t help but get a little bit lost in your puffy, glossy eyes when you look up at him and silently beg for some comfort. He knows it’s an innocent gesture, and when he runs a hand down the side of your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm, he almost feels guilty for the way his cock begins to strain against his pants.

You’re just so cute, and Chan swears he can’t control himself. He can’t ever control himself when it comes to you.

Using the napkin he snagged from Mingyu just moments earlier, Chan leans down and swipes over the wetness on your thighs, soaking up as much of the red liquid that he can. It’s kind of hard to think, honestly. He watches your tears mix with the wine on your lap, and while his fingers brush over the plush of your thighs, he starts to lose himself entirely.

Stop! Stop! Stop! Chan tries to tell himself because really, he should be focusing on taking care of his sweet, sweet girl and wiping away her tears but here he is trying to not think about the massive hard-on he’s got going on beneath his pants.

Mingyu stops by with the check, frantic with more wipes as he cleans up the ground as Chan pays the bill. You quietly slip on the same leather jacket Chan gave to you just half an hour earlier as he helps you get up from the seat, cringing at the way your wet and stained skirt feels against your legs.

With his hand closed around your wrist, your boyfriend leads you to the exit but you keep your head down bashfully. You feel the gazes of other customers on your back as you two make your way out of the restaurant, and the cold night air is a stark contrast to the way your body burns with embarrassment.

Once finally outside and standing by the parking lot, Chan takes a moment to look at you. You’re still biting down on your lip like it’s the only thing you know how to do, eyes trained to the ground as you tighten your fingers around him instinctively. He senses something is bothering you—something other than the fact that your meticulously planned outfit was ruined on such a whim.

Nightly zephyrs pulse against his skin and Chan glances down at your slightly shaking legs, realizing that they are now wet and exposed and probably feel colder than ever. “C’mon baby,” he urges, tugging you towards his car, “Let’s sit inside.” Silently, you comply and follow behind him, slipping into the passenger seat and sighing contently as you escape the chilliness of the night.

He watches you as you click your seatbelt on, sinking into the seat when that familiar clenching of your jaw and furious blinking of your eyes takes over your features. “Oh baby,” Chan coos, shuffling closer to you so he can plant a hand on the back of your neck. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks as you bury your hands in your face in a fruitless attempt to muffle your sniffles.

“I—” You stop because your voice comes out all ugly and distorted. “—I was s-so excited for tonight,” you admit honestly, calming down a little as Chan’s hand runs up and down your spine soothingly. “And then I just—I ruined it.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” your boyfriend asks, tapping your cheek so you finally look up at him. Your cheeks are a little puffy and your bottom lip juts out in a pretty pout, and Chan brushes a thumb over the wet skin. “You didn’t ruin anything—it’s all that prick Mingyu’s fault. We can go to my place and still have fun,” he suggests, and although he means it to be a thoughtful gesture—something like takeout and ice cream—he can’t help but fantasize about some other definitions of fun.

“But—”

“No buts baby. Except, maybe yours,” Chan tells you with a playful wink, his heart swelling when you manage out a giggle between your harsh breaths. He starts to pull himself away from you when he senses a lightening of your mood, and so slowly, he starts the engine.

You settle into a comfortable silence as he starts the drive back to his place, and even though he’s mainly focused on keeping a smile on your face, Chan really can’t ignore the relentless ache in his pants.

After all, how could he when you insisted on keeping his hand on your thigh? “Wanna feel you,” is what you said when you guided his fingers to settle over the soft flesh, and Chan has half a mind to think it’s in an innocent gesture—his sweet girl just wants to keep him close—but he also knows you.

Chan knows that beneath all the soft whimpers and hot tears is a girl far more observant than you let on, and he’d be stupid to think you didn’t notice the tent in his pants earlier.

Maybe he’ll make you pay for that, he thinks as he parks in front of his apartment building, but when you shyly slip out of his car and keep your head hanging low as your eyes glaze over the big red stain on your skirt, Chan thinks otherwise.

Again, he can’t ever control himself when it comes to you.

Any thoughts Chan might have had about teasing you until the world’s demise wash away when he closes the door behind him as you both walk into his apartment. He knows you get a bit needy when you’re upset but still, he wasn’t really expecting you to turn around and sink into his arms the second the lock clicks shut.

Your cheek is pressed into his chest as your arms circle his firm torso, and from above, Chan can see that your eyes are pressed shut. The base of your stomach is pressing into his crotch and fuck, he can’t tell if you intentionally shift against him because your face looks so sad but then again, there’s no way you’re doing this without thinking.

Still, Chan shoves away the filthy thoughts that he really doesn’t think he should be having and wraps his arms around your shoulders, placing a hand on the back of your head. You’re not sure how long you guys stay like that, and despite the ache that burns between both of your legs, it’s a comforting few moments—his fingers in your hair as you pull him closer to you.

You need a distraction, you’ve realized. Something to really cry about.

Being with Chan over the past few months has taught you that, in the best way possible, your tears really mean nothing unless they’re falling because of him. Maybe it’s the thought that prompts you to finally pull away and pout up at him.

“Channie,” you whimper and fuck, Chan knows those eyes. You know he does.

“What is it baby?” he asks, gazing down at you so intensely that you know he isn’t even bothering to hide his lust anymore. He holds your cheek with a hand, thumb stroking over your soft skin for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours.

Chan kisses your breath away. Teeth nipping and sucking against yours as your tongues melt in a hot mess when he presses you into the wall. Looming into you from above, his grip on your face remains tight as he guides you deeper into his mouth, crotch pressing into your lower stomach.

It’s dizzying, almost. Kissing Chan always is.

It isn’t long before you’re pawing at his chest as you struggle to keep up with his intensity. Your palms ache for his skin, and having your fingers run up and down his firm arms just isn’t enough. When Chan pulls his lips away, your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip juts out into a pout.

“Off,” you mumble, weakly tugging at the hem of his shirt, and usually Chan would play with you a little longer, make you beg a little harder, make you really work for it, but he feels that you’ve already suffered enough.

Swiftly, he pulls the tight shirt over his head, revealing the firmness that lay beneath the fabrics, and fuck, you think you might just pass out on the spot—you’ll never get sick of seeing him like this.

“Like what you see baby?” Chan chuckles, but he already knows the answer from the way your eyes zone in on the symmetrical pattern that adorns his upper chest.

“Always …” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your body close against his as you start to place kisses all over his skin. Shy and sweet is what your lips feel like, skitting over his chest as Chan watches you in admiration; your tongue traces over the dark curves, eyes fluttering shut as if you’ve already got it memorized by heart (you probably do).

His hands start to thread in your hair, pressing against your scalp until he’s fisting the strands and tugging your head back. Chan’s mouth meets yours in a hot mess—your own saliva’s already smeared all over your chin and cheeks, and the mix of tongue against tongue and teeth against teeth is only adding to the sloppy kiss as he backs you into the wall.

“Baby,” he whispers into your mouth before beginning to trail rough kisses down your jawline and over your collarbone. He sucks blotchy, red marks into your soft skin, fingers kneading at the flesh of your waist when you start to press your lower half into his. “Baby, you drive me fucking crazy.”

You wanna scream and say ‘ditto’ but the only sound that escapes your lips is a choked moan when he shoves a thigh between your legs and presses against your core. The ache is like a fire, burning through your veins and blooming all up inside of you, making your tummy tumble and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you clamp your bottom lip between your teeth.

Grinding against him, your skirt rides up your thighs revealing the pretty white, lace panties hidden beneath, and Chan’s breath hitches in his throat. Something buzzes in his head and it’s like a rush in his ears—his hands shoot out and are all over your tits.

Gripping the soft flesh over your pretty little shirt and matching lace bra underneath, and soon you’re scrambling to get all this fabric off of you. “So pretty baby, so pretty,” Chan breaths out when he steps away from you a little, dropping his knee as you toss your shirt and bra to the side. He grabs your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together as you look up at him dreamily. “You’ll suck Channie off, right baby?” he coos, and you feel your legs grow weak at the sickly sweet touch to his tone.

“Yeah-huh,” you pant, inching closer to him as you start to drop to your knees, hands immediately making their way to the waistband of his dark jeans. Chan doesn’t help you with the belt—he enjoys watching you fumble with the leather, pouting when it doesn’t come out as easy as you’d like.

Once you finally work your way around it, you’re unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them down to reveal the bulge that strains against his boxers. Without a second thought, you lick his cock over the fabric, eyes lazily looking up at Chan who watches you expectantly.

“You know what to do baby,” he tells you, and so you comply, hooking your fingers under the elastic band and tugging his boxers down. When his cock springs out, it lightly slaps against your cheek, precum smearing all over your already wet cheeks.

Chan thinks you look so beautiful like this, shiny cheeks marked by his heavy cock that starts to make its way between your lips with the guidance of your hands. Soft fingers play with the base of his length as you swipe over the tip your shy tongue and fuck—you look so hot when you stare up at him like that, like you don’t know all the depraved things Chan wants to do with you.

You start off with kitten licks—lapping at the precum that’s dribbled all over the pretty, prominent veins that adorn his cock, and pressing your tongue flat against his bulbous tip. Chan runs a hand over your hair, resting his palm against the crown of your head at the end and gently pushing you forward.

You whimper as you start to take more of his length into your mouth, the underside dragging against your tongue, and you move one hand up to wrap around the base of where your mouth can’t reach, using the other hand to cup his balls.

“Jus’ like that,” Chan mumbles, watching you struggle to take him deeper, shoving his fat tip to the back of your throat as far as you can, tears pricking in your eyes, before pulling back to take in a heaving breath. “Good job baby,” he urges you on, when you open your mouth again, taking him down your throat again.

Your jaw aches as you repeat the motion, tears dripping down your cheeks, over your chin, and onto your soft thighs. Every time his cock pushes to the back of your throat, a few more drops fall, and soon Chan starts to take the lead, directing the movement of your head with his grip on your head.

And it feels so fucking good, the way he’s a got a firm grip on you, the way his cock stretches your mouth open so nicely—so you can taste all of him—the way he’s muttering curses amidst the murmurs of praise; “Yeah baby, feel’s so fuckin’ good.”

It’s got even you rolling your eyes to the back of your head and all you can think is Chan, Chan, Chan, and he can think about is you, you, you—and suddenly, he’s pulling his length out of your mouth so quickly it has your vision going white.

“Gotta cum w’me, princess,” Chan instructs over the rush in your ears, grabbing your wrist and gently tugging you to your feet. You’re slightly light-headed, stumbling forward from all the movement, but Chan catches you gently with a soft chuckle. “Easy baby, easy,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head and kissing your aching lips softly as he once again presses you into the wall.

You make out sloppily for a few moments, your arms wrapping around his neck, tongues melting into each other as Chan tastes himself on you. His hands are playing with the zipper of your skirt, and with a soft gasp into his mouth, he pushes them down to pool at your ankles. “Leg up baby,” he tells you, tapping your hip with one hand so you get the message.

Hastily, you lift your thigh, involuntarily groaning against Chan’s lips when his big, rough hand plants itself on the underside of your thigh, helping you wrap your leg around his torso. His cock’s prodding right against your leg now, and you swear you can feel how painfully hard he is, swear you can feel him straight up throbbing against you.

“‘m so wet Channie,” you sigh helplessly, slotting one hand between your parted legs and swiping your fingers over the slick that drenches your thin panties. With slippery hands, you mindlessly reach for Chan’s cock, gently nestling the thick length against your clothed core.

“Oh fuck,” Chan groans at the contact, jutting his hips further into yours to increase the friction. His pelvis is flush against yours, and the stimulation of his skin against your clothed clit along with his cock sliding right by your folds is dizzying. “Makin’ a mess already, huh?” he says, shoving the fabric of your panties to one side to reveal your dripping cunt.

Quickly, his fingers are all over you, sliding between your slickness and thumb rubbing circles into your clit until you’re whining and fuck—Chan hardly gets to stick one finger into your tight cunt before you’re almost on the verge of tears again—

“Channie, need your cock now,” you cry out, hands pawing at the tattoo over his chest. “Can’t wait—need it no—oh.” The last words die on your tongue when Chan shoves his fat tip inside you. “Oh Channie—feels s’full,” you moan, your head falling back and hitting against the wall as he continues to slide his full length against your walls.

“Yeah princess?” he mutters, leaning forward and kissing your shoulder blade after he fully bottoms out inside of you. Your cute little cunt is screaming from pleasure, erupting flames all over your skin as you struggle to adjust to his size. Chan can see it, the way you’re already trembling, standing leg quivering as you try your best to not crumble into him, try your best to not give in right away.

You always look so cute trying when you know you’re gonna fail anyways.

Without warning, Chan drags his cock out slowly, and when you look at him with those glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but slam right back into you with a force that throttles you against the wall.

“Fuck,” you whimper, running one hand up Chan’s arm, tracing the curves of his biceps before finally gripping onto his shoulder tightly.

“You feel it princess?” Chan asks you softly when he drags out of you again before pressing you into the wall with another harsh thrust.

“Yeah-huh,” you nod dumbly, using your free hand to run your palm over your lower stomach. “Feel you all the way here Channie,” you moan when he shifts inside of you so his cock is hitting you even deeper. “Fuck!” you cry out when his pace starts to speed up, the tears that lingered in your lash line already starting to drip down your face.

“My pretty baby’s crying already …” Chan coos with a mocking pout, grip on your waist tightening so much you feel you’ll have bruises the next morning. “That’s it princess … cry it out—I know you wanna,” he eggs you on once he leans in, fingers ghosting by your earlobe.

“Can’t help it,” you choke out, finally letting the soft sobs pleasure erupt from your throat, head falling against Chan’s shoulders. “Feel so good Channie—can’t help it—’m sorry, I—”

“Shh,” Chan hushes you with a particularly harsh trust, pressing so close to you that his pelvis is once again bumping against your clit. “Don’t apologize … you look so pretty … pretty crybaby. That’s what you are, aren’t you? My crybaby?”

“Ye-yes!” you mewl when your legs start to shake more rapidly.

“Yeah … yeah—fuck,” Chan huffs when you clench down on him, and your walls are so tight around his length that you’re starting to wonder just how much longer you can hold out for.

“Can’t have anyone seeing you like—fuck—like this,” he moans, gripping your thigh tighter and tighter as he starts ramming into you so fast it’s punching the air straight out of your lungs. You’re wailing into his skin now, teething at his neck as your whole face is covered in a hot and sticky mess, fingers running all up and down his chest.

“Only thing you should be crying over is me, okay baby? You got that?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, fingers sinking into his skin as you feel that familiar wave of pleasure well up in your stomach. “Only yo—oh fuck, Channie ‘m gonna cum s—fuck!” you gasp out, hiccuping over your own tears as the waves crash down.

Your legs go limp as Chan’s cock drills into your warm cunt, the combined arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor (you’ll have to clean the ground later). His fat cock is battering against your tight walls roughly, fluttering walls pressing down on every vein, every curve of the length.

“There you go princess, cum f’me,” he grunts as he secures one arm around your waist, digging your back deeper into the wall so you don’t fall over as he starts to ride out his own orgasm against your pulsing walls.

Watching your blown out eyes and swollen lips, tear kissed cheeks and disheveled hair, Chan feels his own eyes rolling to the back of his head when your overstimulated pussy clamps down on him, squeezing out every last drop of cum. Painting your walls white, the sensation of Chan’s cum filling you up has you whimpering and mewling into his neck as he starts to loosen his grip.

“Fuck princess … made such a mess,” he mutters, looking down at the sticky mixture that rests where his softening cock meets your cute cunt.

“Hmm,” you hum, letting your wobbly legs drop to the floor once his cock flops out of your slippery, cunt, nuzzling into his tattooed chest. Giggling softly, you wrap your arms around his torso and look up at him with a lazy grin, “I forgot why I was crying earlier.”

Chan smiles, holding your cheeks with both his hands to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

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a/n: thank u for reading, i hope u enjoyed >_< pls feel free 2 leave comments / rbs if u did! i know i took horrendously long 2 pop pt2 of crybaby :[ I'M SORRY guys not 2 ramble but i have been in a writing slump recently and this is the only thing of decent length and decent quality that i have produced in the span of two months so c: i am happy w how this turned out! i'll try my best to get the 3rd and final part of the series a little bit quicker, but no promises :3

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months

Text

the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids.

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.”

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them.

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen.

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button.

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit.

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs.

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms.

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared.

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot.

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue.

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip.

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more.

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt.

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you.

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees.

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north.

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips.

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge.

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core.

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head.

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull.

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?”

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants.

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk.

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso.

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.”

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high.

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity.

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his.

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you.

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick.

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion.

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise.

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width.

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge.

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths.

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.”

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen.

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be.

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.”

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in.

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you.

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again.

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 year

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Evasively Yours

EVASIVELY YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader (Part 2 of NEVER YOURS)

SUMMARY: The fallout after Azriel found out you were his mate, and that you kept it from him.

WARNINGS: Angst angst angst. I think I have found my true calling as an angst writer. Swearing. Rhys is the big brother we deserve. Azriel is a bit of an asshole and Mor is a gem.

WORDS: 2.6K

You wished you could stay at the mountain camps forever. The males were training the females as required, with you watching over their teaching techniques and helping the girls out when they needed it. You didn’t mind helping the females – some of them even seemed to be relieved in receiving your assistance. The females were all younger, with the oldest being twenty, and the youngest thirteen. You understood why the older females weren’t training – the backwards ways of the Illyrian people had been ingrained within them for too long.

You extended your stay from two days to three, to four, and on the fifth day, you could tell that you were not going to be welcome much longer. So you packed up, threatened Devlon a little bit, promised to be back to see how the females were faring, and left.

Up in the air, the wind pushed against your wings, almost as if it were telling you not to return to Velaris. Because in the city of starlight awaited the shadowsinger who seemed to want nothing to do with you. Which hurt. So much so, it hurt. There were many ways you could attempt to describe the shredding of your soul, but none of those descriptions would do the pain you felt justice. It was unbearable to think about… so you didn’t.

You arrived in Velaris just before sunset and landed out the front of the River House, leaves and plants rustling at the force of your landing and the final sweep of your wings. Those plants, those flowers and bushes – Elain had planted those. Part of you wanted to rip them out from the roots and burn them, watch as the flames consumed that part of her – but the other part, the more logical side told you not to. This was not Elain’s fault. It was yours.

You entered the River House with a slight droop to your wings as Azriel clouded your mind. You tried to push him away but – how many times had you walked in here for a family dinner, betting on who would start a fight that night? How many times had you walked into this house together, him bumping your shoulder playfully as he chuckled at a joke you told? How many times had you both shushed each other, trying not to laugh too loudly as Nyx slept soundly upstairs? By the Mother, everything seemed to remind you of him now that he wasn’t yours.

Not that he’d ever been yours. That was just wishful thinking on your part.

You turned through the hallways, so consumed by your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone was in front of you until you bumped into them.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” you apologised, steading them.

You instantly let go as if you’d been burned when you realised it was Elain who stood before you. A bubbling anger rose inside of you, threatening to overcome your logical thinking, but you pushed it down. None of this was Elain’s fault. The only person to blame was you.

“You’re back,” Elain stated with a small smile. “How was your mission?”

Ugh. If only Elain was rude, and didn’t care about you. It would make your life so much simpler if she was easy to hate. But you didn’t hate her. She had always been kind to you, always caring and thoughtful. She was gentle by nature.

You shrugged. “It went… well. I, uh… I have to update Rhys about it.”

“Of course,” Elain acknowledged, a smile still plastered on her pretty face.

You gave her a slightly strained smile and continued on through the house, all the way to Rhys’s office. You knocked this time, and Rhys responded, telling you to come in. You entered and walked up to his desk, the High Lord raising his head to survey you.

“Did it really take five days for you to figure out how to get Devlon to train the females properly?” Rhys questioned as he stood up from his desk.

“He has agreed to train the female properly,” you began, “and I stayed back to make sure he did as he said he would.”

Rhys studied you for a moment before leaning against his desk, arms crossed and eyeing you closely. You stood tall, not allowing him to see the sea of anguish within you, the ocean that churned with your heartache. You couldn’t let anyone ever see this part of you, the part that had once been full of hope and light, but was now shrouded in misery and darkness. And not the darkness you were used to. No, the darkness you were used to was calm and soothing, protective and familiar. This darkness was never ending, tormenting, and devastating.

“You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, you know,” Rhys murmured. “I’m here for you – not as your High Lord, but as your friend. As your brother.”

Your heart swelled at his words and before you could stop it, the tears came tumbling down. Rhys was there instantly, holding you tight as you cried into his shoulder, sobbing and allowing five days’ worth of torture and grief to tumble out in the form of your cries. You held Rhys tight to you, as if he was a lifeline, knowing that if you let go right now you’d be lost in your sea of sorrow forever.

Rhys stroked your hair softly and you tried to get deep breaths into your lungs in an attempt to calm down. You’d cried in front of Rhys before, but you never liked it. Of course, people rarely liked to cry, but it made you feel weak, like all the males who told you that your emotions would get the best of you were right. Because when you were crying, those emotions really did take over. You didn’t feel anything except sorrow and pain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rhys inquired.

You looked up at him, at your High Lord, and nearly shook your head. But… he couldn’t look inside your head, lest he see the depths of your suffering. So you took a deep breath, and hiccupped, “Azriel is my mate.” Rhys cocked his head, his only indication of surprise, and you continued, “He – I… he kissed Elain, because I hadn’t told him. I don’t think he knew, and… and he followed me to Windhaven, and then I accidentally told him and now… now he hates me.”

Rhys’s lips twisted. “Why do you think he hates you?”

“You should have heard the way he spoke to me,” you whispered weakly. “He – he’s never spoken to me like that. And he just… left.”

Rhys hummed lowly in thought, and even rubbed his chin. You wiped the tears from your cheeks and sniffed, pulling away from Rhys’s warm embrace. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You wanted solitude, and peace. Peace from your mind, and the thoughts that raged through it like a wildfire, only to be drowned out by the waves of misery that chased you.

“I’m going to go now,” you uttered, rubbing your arms.

Rhys was silent for a moment, before he admitted, “We all guessed, you know.” You looked up at him, and he clarified, “That the two of you were mates.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter anymore. See you, Rhys.”

You left him in his office, and he did not follow. Maybe he knew you were at your breaking point, and that if you had to say one more word about it you might quite literally explode. You exited the River House, shutting the door behind you quietly and took off, your wings lifting you into the air with a single swoop. You glided across the city of starlight and all the way to the House of Wind, where you prayed to the Mother that Azriel would not be. You landed on the balcony, already feeling exhaustion cloud you and your thoughts. Maybe you could sleep peacefully for years and years and never have to face this problem.

Your footsteps echoed on the marble floors of the mountain palace as you made your way to your room, trying to ignore the thoughts that hounded you. You reached your hallway, intending to have a very long bath before getting into bed, when you stopped in your tracks. Azriel stood at the other end of the hall, also seemingly halted.

Now that you could see him, the only thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You just wanted to figure things out, to fix the fracturing of your heart and soul.

“Az–”

But he turned away and into his own room, closing the door with a loud slam, with enough force that you flinched. So maybe he couldn’t be reasoned with. Maybe that was it, maybe him closing the door meant he was closing the door on any possibility that you could work through it.

Because if Azriel couldn’t work through it, then no one could.

So you entered your own room, closing your door with much less force, and stood in the middle of your room. It used to be familiar and comforting, but now… it just reminded you of Azriel. Over there, by the window, the two of you would sit and read when you had a free moment. On the bed, the two of you would lay together after a particularly bad nightmare, comforting each other simply with your presence.

You left the room and entered your adjoining bathroom, twisting the faucet handle, allowing hot, steaming water to fill the bathtub. You slid out of your leathers and stepped into the tub, hissing slightly at the heat, before lowering yourself down, and resting against the lip and tipping your head back. When the water reached the top, you turned it off and soaked, feeling the water settle around you as you stilled. You grabbed your soap, smelling of lavender and vanilla, and scrubbed yourself down, trying to wash away the grime of the Illyrian camps, as well as the pain of the rejection of the bond.

Because that’s what it was. You could deny it no longer – Azriel wanted nothing to do with you, it was clear as day. He had rejected the bond, and you felt it in your chest, felt the string that bound your two souls weakening. The pain was still there, the anguish and aching, but the bond felt… less. It was as if a veil had come down, shrouding the bond and concealing it from view. You knew it was still there, you could feel it faintly, but… it was as if something was cutting away at it, as if the bond was wilting away. Maybe when it finally did, you’d no longer feel the torment that threatened to overwhelm you.

Something caught your eye as you tried to relax. A shadow, small and harmless, sat in the corner of the room. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the candles were causing the strange silhouette. But you did know better.

“And what do you want?” you hissed.

The shadow recoiled and disappeared, leaving you alone.

You stayed in the bath until the water was cold and urged you to get out. You dried yourself off, the cotton towel soft against your skin, and you opened your drawer in search of sleepwear. You pulled on a pair of comfy pants, and opened the top drawer, freezing as you saw an oversized shirt tucked away, the ebony shade of the item almost hiding it from view. You hesitantly reached out for the fabric, and against your better judgement, picked it up, allowing the cloth to slide between your fingers. You inhaled the scent – night-chilled wind and cedar, with a hint of your own scent – and your hands fisted around it.

You should get rid of it. You doubted Azriel would want it, now that it gave off your smell of lavender and vanilla, so maybe you could burn it. Maybe it would be therapeutic, in a way.

A knock at your door dragged you from your thoughts, and you let out a, “just a minute!” before stuffing the shirt back in your drawer and grabbing another, shrugging in on and not bothering to do up the buttons in the slats, instead letting the clothing hang from your frame as you opened the door.

Mor stood at the door, eyes searching yours in concern. You moved aside to let her in and you shut the door behind her. Her stare never left you, and after a moment she sighed and walked over, motioning for you to turn around. You did as she ordered, allowing her deft fingers to do up the slats of your nightclothes.

“Thanks,” you mumbled once she had finished.

She only hummed in response, care and compassion clear in her warm brown eyes as she studied you. She opened up her arms and you sighed, falling into them. Mor held you tightly, her arms protecting you from the world and all its sorrow. You rested your head against her shoulder as she held you close, and you allowed a single tear to escape.

“Now, now,” Mor murmured, rubbing your arms. “Starfall is in a few days. Do you have something to wear?”

You smiled at the blonde in thanks as she changed the subject, most likely sensing that you did not want to talk about it. Not now, and maybe not ever. Maybe if you pushed it all down far enough, it would disappear.

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you have something for me.”

“You know me so well,” Mor grinned.

You smiled at your friend and she smiled back, but you could still see concern in her eyes. You could tell her that Azriel rejected the bond, but she’d probably already guessed. Besides, you didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted to get lost in talk of dresses and parties and shoes and other useless things, if only to distract yourself from the drowning of your soul.

You felt bad for Lucien. You’d never really thought about how Elain’s rejection of the mating bond had felt for him. You didn’t realise it would be like this, like your soul was screaming and wailing until it could no longer, only to start back up again as soon as it could. You didn’t know it would feel like a stabbing pain in your chest, like someone had jammed a knife up your ribs and into your heart, and was slowly twisting with every minute that passed.

And of course, both of your mates ended up together. Of course the two beings who rejected the bond were together. Because that was what usually happened, right? When a person rejected the bond, it was because they wanted someone else. Had Elain decided, all those years ago when Azriel had first visited the Archeron Estate, that she wanted him? Was that another reason why she rejected Lucien?

It would do you no good to ponder it. So you sat with Mor and gossiped and chatted away until the sun rose, talking of nothing important.

TAGLIST (all users that could not be tagged are in bold) :

@sv0430 @bsenpai @mich0731 @nobody00sthings @vickykazuya @abrunettefangirlnerd @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @elizabethrosecresswell @my-otrand @fuckthatfeeling @im-bili @littlebookbengal @feyretopia @satellitesunshine @marina468 @fartimagines @fussel9913 @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @fan-of-many-bands @azriel-luvr @xreaderbooksreads @twsssmlmaa @ilov3sharks @mllemarianne @gamarancianne @holywolfsstuff @shadowsinger-654 @lovra974 @cullenswife @megudragon @fieldofdaisiies @psychobookoholic

i’m sorry if i forgot anyone, i tried to get them all down <3 Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in part three!!

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i-will-cry-you-a-river · 2 months

Text

Kinda continuation of this fic about this idea.

So.

He might have been slightly wrong about his assessment.

In his defense, Proud Immortal Demon Way was a stallion novel with lots of (bad) hetero papapa. Who would have thought that just by transmigrating a gay person in the universe would make everything more fruity, changing the whole genre?! (Okay, two gay people. Turns out Airplane was gay too. Suddenly, everything made so much sense after that revelation.)

(It was embarrassing to think back of that revelation. Even if it led him to his first boyfriend.

Especially because it led him to his first boyfriend.

Oh boy. Even thinking about it makes him want to dig himself a cushy little hole to bury himself. His first boyfriend. Shen Qingqiu was still too thin faced for this. To even remember how shameless Shang Qinghua was.

“Bro. Brooo! I'm gay. Why do you think My King is like that?!

“What?!” Shen Qingqiu was shocked. Sure, it was always a bit suspicious that Luo Binghe’s right hand man was still alive even though he was gorgeous, but to be the writer's perfect man? That explained so much…

“Yeah! He is like, my dream man! Gorgeous, a cold beauty, so mean and cruel, yet caring and loyal to those who deserve… I'm so weak for this type of men. Men who could step on me and I would thank them for it…” Shang Qinghua was embarrassing with his dreamy little sighs. And- were those stars in his eyes?! Was he drooling?!

Shameless! Utterly shameless!

But that description…

“Is that why Luo Binghe was like that too? Do you want my sweet lotus to step on you?! You shameless pervert!”

A snort was his answer.

“L-O-L. Of course you would think of Luo Binghe. No. I mean, yes, of course, but I wasn't thinking of my son.” There was an uncharacteristically calculating look in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. It was oddly attractive, not that Shen Qingqiu noticed it. Nope. He definitely did not notice it.” Can't you think of someone else that could be described as such?”

“No, not really. Gorgeous and beautiful, yes, many, but… Cold? Hm. I mean…” he trailed off. Shen Qingqiu - the OG - was a cold beauty. But he was a despicable scum villain, with no loyalty to anyone. And “caring”?! Hah! No way!”

“The original good was gorgeous and mean and cruel… but definitely not caring and loyal! Is it really a male character?”

“Bro.” The condescence was dripping from that word. “O-M-G, bro. How can you be so smart, yet so dense at the same time?! I'm talking about YOU!”

“...”

He?

They just looked at each other, one behind his facepalm, the other blue screening.

“Wait. What?!”

And that was how the talks about their relationship started.)

He would have preferred if he had a working System that notified him of such changes, instead of finding it out like how he found out.

[Host did not ask 乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ]

Hmph.

But it was great! Life was great! Everything was great!

“Piss off you halfbreed!”

Except for when it was not.

“What? Is Liu-shishu jealous of this discipline? This is my time with Shizun, so you piss off!”

Shen Qingqiu sighed, and hiding behind his fan, he resisted the urge to facepalm. Honestly, his boyfriends…

“If this master's shidi and discipline do not learn how to drink tea together peacefully, this master will visit the Sect Leader instead. This master is sure Zhangmen-shixiong would be pleased with the unscheduled visit.”

“SHIZUN!” cried his sticky discipline - the Emperor, really. Fucking protagonist halo - in outrage. “No, Shizun can't do this! This is this discipline’s time with Shizun!”

“Shen-shixiong!” Huffed Liu Qingge as well. His boyfriends were so dramatic, honestly…

He sighed again. A repeating act when he spent his time with these two.

He wouldn't want it anyway else, though. These two were his dramatic brutish idiots.

“Come here,” he opened his arm, and Luo Binghe immediately threw himself into the hug. Liu Qingge was slower, more resistant, as if the little tsundere didn't like these hugs, but at Shen Qingqiu’s raised eyebrow, he leaned into the hug with more dignity.

It's okay, shidi, this master will not tell anyone that you are a big softie who loves cuddling with your shixiong and shizi.

“Would Shizun leave us for the Sect Leader?” sobbed Luo Binghe into green robes.

This needy protagonist…

“Leave? No. But you know that there has been… talks… between this master and Zhangmen-shixiong. The Sect Leader is… well. The thing between this master and Yue Qingyuan is different. There are too many misunderstandings and a burdening past between us. It is a slow process. Don't be so jealous, okay? This master… This master cares for you. For both of you. All of you, really…”

And wasn't that a mindfuck. He transmigrated as a virginal disaster gay, whose main goal in his second life was to hug the protagonist's golden thighs to survive, and there he was now, having a literal harem of gorgeous, hypercompetent men. Like- how? How the fuck?!

System, explain this!

[Since the protagonist Luo Binghe is not open to have a harem, the task was assigned to-]

Okay, okay, okay! I know!

Fucking hell.

It was still so weird that the “harem owner” halo was transferred to him. Not to Shang Qinghua - though he also has another boyfriend so he had two people who would gladly step on him -, not to Liu Qingge - who had a frenemies-to-lovers-by-proxy kinda relationship with Luo Binghe -, not even to the Luo Binghe-like Xiao Gongyi - who literally sent an application form to Shen Qingqiu's current partners to apply as a new harem member, WTF?! -, but to him! Shen Yuan!

Wild.

“It would be better for your health, if you'd finally allow Mu Qingfang to court your, but at least it is not the mutt’s snake of a cousin…” Liu Qingge grunted, still salty about that time when he was late to “save” Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang “saved” him instead. Shen Yuan still maintained his opinion that knew what he was doing and he was not a damsel in distress, needing a strong man to save him!

He cleared his throat. “Uh… about that…”

“SHIZUN!”

“SHEN QINGQIU!”

The two shouts of dismay were expectable, as was the silent communication between the two lovers-by-proxy. Now the two had a common enemy, which he should probably discourage if he wanted his new pet to stay alive, but… He would not. The two needed to bond, the UST between them was killing Shen Qingqiu, and his slippery little snake was great at surviving. He would be fine.

Shen Qingqiu's sanity, on the other hand, was not.

No matter… who needed sanity, when he had a harem full of violate, powerful, gorgeous men who - against all reason - loved him.

And he loved them in return.

Life was good!

[Host is welcome! Please, rate your experience with a five star review!]

Fuck off!

#shen qingqiu #luo binghe #liu qingge #shang qinghua #bingqiu #liushen #cumplane #yueshen #other ships mentioned #sqq's harem #svsss #sy transmigrated after realizing he is gay au

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waywardcrow · 5 months

Text

Christmas blues.

Summary: Someone hurt his fairy and Bucky will do everything to fix it and give you the Christmas you deserve.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader.

WC: Almost 2K.

TW: Overprotective Bucky, sad reader because of an abusive ex, Christmas blues, talk about revenge and torture but just mentioned, crying, talk about cheating from reader’s ex and ex best friend, pinning dumbasses, ugly Christmas sweaters and Bucky wearing reindeer ears, kind of drunk writer (aka me), let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Take my hand (wreck my plans) series.

Pictures from pinterest, graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Something had happened, Bucky knew it.

You were different after coming home from visiting your parents. They were going on a cruise ship for Christmas so you’ll be spending it at the compound with everybody for the first time.

He could thought it was the perspective of not spending the holidays with your blood family but you were so excited before you left to have Thanksgiving with them, it didn’t make sense.

Every time someone tried to engage you in decorating the tree or bake cookies for the kids, you smiled politely and declined, leaving everyone worried.

“What’s up with fairy?” Sam asked when he arrived with Sarah and his nephews; they agreed to spend the holidays there so nobody feel left out.

“We don’t know” Natasha replied watching you leave after they failed once again, this time you didn’t want to go ice skating.

“You don’t know?” Sam raised a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a silly smile “I didn’t thought you were familiar with the concept.”

Bucky left them bickering to go find you and he did, your gaze was set in the sunset, not paying much attention to the cold in the air that surrounded you in the balcony.

“Hi sweetheart” you barely reacted, more used than him to Bucky being charming with you.

“What are you doing here? You could catch a cold” Bucky saw you take in the thin layered Henley he was wearing, practically nothing compared to your coat.

“I don’t get sick, honey” he reminded you, making your skin heat despite the winter, feeling like a dumbass. What a scientist you were “I appreciate the concern, though.”

You nodded.

“Are you alright?”

“I should be the one asking that” he said, bumping you gently with his shoulder, Bucky was too delicate with you still but he made every day an effort to be more open, especially with you. He watched your lips become a firm line and his heart started to beat faster in his ribcage. Something had happened, he was sure “I’m here if you want to talk fairy, we all want you to be ok.”

That broke you.

A tear escaped your control and Bucky’s heart sink down, he couldn’t help it when he hugged you making you hid your face in his chest, making you wrap your arms around his waist.

He let you cry; rubbing circles in your back and when you calmed down, Bucky took you to your apartment to make you hot chocolate.

When it was ready Bucky sat next to you in your colorful coach, watching you took a sip while making a mental list of all the awful ways he will torture who hurt you.

“I ran into my ex while being at home” you said without looking at him, making Bucky’s whole body tense. He only heard a few things about him from Tony and Pepper but none were good “he is engaged now, to my ex best friend.”

Oh Bucky would rip his arms away from his body.

“Did he… what did he said to you?” he got closer to his fairy; it should have been very bad to have you crying like that.

Your lower lip trembled so did the mug in your hands so Bucky put his right one on top of yours.

“He said I was invited to the wedding, that Lara and him were grateful I brought them together like they didn’t cheat on me for a year” your voice cracked and more years followed.

That bastard, hot anger cursed through Bucky’s body, he will make them suffer.

“And then Louis made fun of me for buying too much in the Christmas market, he said he was sorry I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, like an adult so I have to overcompensate being childish.”

The entire time your eyes were focused in your hands, so embarrassed to be this honest with him when it was your idiotic ex who should be very concerned about what was coming to him, he will recruit Nat and Yelena and Tony to make sure he will pay for every one your tears.

“He is right” you said wiping your tears with your sleeve “I’m childish and dumb and…”

“Hey, hey” Bucky stopped your self-destructive train taking both of your hands in his “none of that is true, fairy” he reassured you making you look at him “he is an asshole, an abuser” Bucky spited that word out, thinking about someone like you having to live with people like that jerk made him want to punch him until his metal arm got tired “he is wrong, you are not what he says.”

“Thanks Bucky but…”

“Ah ah, I’m not letting you be mean with yourself, you’ll do the same for me” it was true, you were so gentle with him and always help him to be gentle with himself too “you deserve the whole universe, honey” Bucky cupped your face in his hands and your breath caught in your throat.

His ocean blue eyes were so kind, so full of trust that it was impossible to not believe his words.

God, he wanted to kiss you so bad but it wasn’t the time so he left a kiss in your forehead “You are not alone, you are so loved by everyone that meets you and it kills me that you have to suffer all that shit, I’m so sorry fairy.”

You hugged him and stay there for a while, feeling the pain in your heart becoming easier.

The next day Bucky was knocking in your door before breakfast.

You were feeling bad for telling him all that, for letting him see that part of yourself that wasn’t bright, he had enough pain in his life and still he took yours and made it less heavy.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” he looked so handsome even wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen “what are you wearing?” you whispered, not so sure if you were still sleeping, he was wearing reindeer ears too.

Did Tony and Bruce mess with the time lines again?

“We are going shopping, fairy” he handed you a matching sweater that looked your size “get ready, we leave in ten minutes to get waffles” and with that he disappeared in the hallway.

Confused you did what he said, maybe he needed help with his shopping and it was the least you could do after oversharing the previous night with him.

You met him in the elevators with your ugly sweater on and he smirked.

“You look good, fairy” bashful, you gave him a tiny smile and he felt it like a victory.

And the madness began.

True to his word, he took you for the best waffles you ever eat and then to the Christmas market in Brooklyn, still wearing his silly outfit, parting the crowded area like if he did that every random Sunday, oblivious to the chatter around you both and the not so discreet pictures some took of him. His whole attention was on you.

Bucky could recognize when you liked something, Louis words were still echoing in your mind but he made you feel so safe with him that remembering all your work with your therapist was easier and if you doubted before buying something, he would buy it for you.

You wouldn’t let Louis and Lara take anything more from you and he would help you with that.

“What do you think of this one? It seems perfect for Sam” he told you showing you a funny looking owl with a Santa hat, making you giggle.

“Put it some goggles on and then it will be perfect” you said without thinking, feeling all the cold leave your body when he throw his head back and laughed “oh no, forget I said that, poor Sam.”

“I’m never forgetting it doll, it’s exactly what I’m going to give him” he paid for the owl and gave the old lady in the vendor cart a smile that probably extended her life a decade.

Three hours later, lots of pretzels and hot chocolate you both were taking your car to go back home.

“Thank you for today” you said with a quiet voice when you parked outside the apartments “I know yesterday I was a lot, this made me feel better.”

“You’re never a lot, fairy, you are perfect” there was something else behind his words but before you could ask, Sam shout startled you.

“Hey, lovebirds, Sarah and Clint made lunch” he was wearing only shorts and a t-shirt which was insane but the basketball equipment explained a little, same as the presence of Thor, Cass, AJ and Yelena who looked very proud of herself.

“Let’s go” you said and follow the others, not noticing Bucky’s disappointment matched yours.

Christmas Eve was so much better than you expected, Natasha and Yelena didn’t leave you alone for a second, Wanda helped you wrap your presents, Tony, Morgan and Pepper would hug you randomly through the day and kiss your cheek, the rest of the team did things like that and you felt so loved.

Bucky made sure of it.

He didn’t tell you Louis and Lara were being taken care of, he probably never will, instead he choose to spend the afternoon making letters to Santa with the kids, having the perfect view of you from the living room while laughing at Morgan’s antics who tried to convince AJ and Cass that Happy was Santa. Nate was buying it by then and it was adorable, the chaos also reminded him of his sisters.

“Who wants dessert before dinner?” Yelena asked from the kitchen, the young widow didn’t miss the chance to steal sweets while you and the others cooked and apparently she wanted the kids to do the same.

There was a loud chorus of enthusiastic answers that made him wince even if the disapproval of the parents in the room made him smile. After a short but intense discussion, Sam and you convinced the others to let it happen, it was Christmas after all.

“Just one cookie, ok? We have to wait for dinner” Sam said holding the tray for them and the little munchkins yell, sugar high already “they are not for you, terminator.”

Sam tried to take them from him but you took the tray from your friend.

“Don’t listen to him, take as many as you want” you said, making a silly face at Sam who responded with a similar one.

“Thanks, fairy” Bucky took one of your cookies and barely noticed Sam going towards the Christmas tree “they smell so good.”

If that didn’t make your skin feel on fire, Morgan’s words did.

“Auntie fairy, you are under the mistletoe with Mr. Barnes” a giggle escaped the little girl and then the others kids who laughed at your reaction. The adults in the kitchen stayed in silence, despite Natasha’s “kiss her, dumbass” comment and Bucky… Bucky was looking at you like you were the only one he could see.

Biting your lip, you doubted for a heartbeat before standing in your tiptoes and giving him a kiss, short and sweet, just like you.

And then, Tony let out a wolf whistle, Yelena an exasperated sigh and you could hear Sam in the back asking who dressed an owl like him and put it in top of the tree but your focus was mostly in the handsome man in front of you who took you by the waist and kissed you again.

Merry Christmas lovelies! Hope you like this one, please tell me what you think, if you want to see more about Bucky and fairy, etc.

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader

284 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 3 months

Text

Traitor

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: a big thank you to awesome and incredible @little-diable for having the wonderful and crazy idea to write this together. I loved it so much! You are such an amazing writer.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst

Summary: you thought you had been prepared for everything as you were sent to spy on Uhtred, until the moment you met a certain Danish warrior

Word Count: 4,8 K

Headers and dividers by the lovely @arcielee

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list - write to me.

I'm not sure if this letter will ever get to you or if you'll even want to read it. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

You probably already know, and it's true. I was sent to spy on Lord Uhtred, on orders from Lord Wihtgar, Uhtred’s cousin and the current ruler of Bebbanburg.

I came here as a spy and an enemy, full of suspicion, hate and disdain. I was sent to spy on a traitor of his own kin, on a heathen teamed up with the Danes to try and bring down my Lord, the rightful ruler of Bebbanburg.

But now, as I'm leaving, I want you to know I'm going as a friend and an ally, even if you can't quite believe it, even if you all rightfully see me as a traitor.

These past few months have taught me so much - about trust, relying on others, feeling accepted, and being valued. But most importantly, I've learned what it means to be loved.

I'm sorry. I know it's not enough, and it never will be…

"It's all blurred and smudged from here. I can't decipher it," Osferth looked up from the small piece of vellum he held in his hands. His gaze wandered around the dimly lit room before settling on the silhouette seated at the table, with elbows propped up and head resting on hands, fingers entwined in hair.

"Read it once more," Sihtric growled, his voice rough and slightly trembling.

"I've already read it to you five times. What do you expect to uncover?" Osferth shrugged. The sound of the bench falling echoed as Sihtric suddenly sprang to his feet, knocking it over and grabbed the cup from the table, draining it in a few hasty gulps. He stood there for a moment, examining it in his hand. Moments later, the cup was hurled to the ground with such force that it shattered into countless small pieces, causing Osferth to flinch.

"Nothing," venom dripped from Sihtric's voice, "I'm a fool, a damned idiot. How could I not see it? How could I be so blind?" he roared before storming out of the room.

It had been surprisingly easy, much easier than you had anticipated. It appeared that Uhtred had a soft spot for taking in masterless dogs and those less fortunate. All it took was a heart-wrenching tale of being captured by Scots as a child and raised as a warrior to win his acceptance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disdain for his kind-heartedness and naivety. He truly didn't deserve to be called a Lord.

A Lord should be stern and ruthless, someone who instilled fear in their subordinates, devoid of the lower emotions like love and compassion that made people vulnerable to manipulation. This was what you had been taught, ingrained in you since childhood, nurtured by your mother's milk, and enforced by your father's strict hand.

You happened to be the sole child of Bebbanburg's commandant and the trusted right hand of Lord Ælfric Uhtredson. Your father had always yearned for a son, but fate had dealt him a different hand – a daughter, a fragile and small creature with large, inquisitive eyes and infectious laughter.

The carefree and joyful days of your childhood came to an abrupt end when your father finally acknowledged your existence. Around the age of ten, as it became apparent that your mother would not provide the male heir he so desperately desired, your father’s attention shifted to you.

And now, here you were – a grown woman, a trained warrior, and a cunning spy, with deep and sorrowful eyes, and a laughter that had been absent from your life for years. This was how you entered the service of Lord Uhtred.

“You’ve got a knack for it,” Finan chuckled approvingly, and you saw his hand extending towards you to help you up from the ground. You hesitated, uncertain if he genuinely meant it, half-expecting him to withdraw his hand at the last moment, his warm smile giving way to a mocking grin. He had bested you fair and square. Again. Finan the Agile, they called him, and rightly so.

He had the appearance of a large, affable bear, with warm brown eyes, that always seemed to twinkle mischievously. What a deception! That man moved as swiftly as lightning. Despite investing all your strength, skill, and effort, you found yourself seated in the dirt, gasping for breath. The surprise in your eyes was impossible to conceal as you kept glancing at his outstretched hand. Even though you knew by now that his hand would remain there, that you could rely on it and you could trust it not to turn against you, old habits died hard, etched into your very bones, causing you to hesitate once more.

Finally, you mustered the courage to grasp it, allowing Finan to help you to your feet. "That move earlier, when you suddenly changed direction and lunged to my left, almost caught me off guard. That was impressive," the bearded Irishman continued, his genuine smile unwavering. He retrieved your sword and handed it back to you. "Ready for another round?"

You thought you were prepared for anything. You were ready to fight for your place among the warriors, anticipating challenges and the disdain that comes with being an outsider, a newcomer, and a woman. You were prepared for the sly glances, whistles, and crude remarks, for unwelcome advances and dirty hands trying to grope you. Having been raised in the world of men, you knew their ways well.

"Hey, let the lady catch her breath," Osferth's ever-cheerful voice echoed across the yard as he approached with a pitcher and ale mugs in his hands. The shy former monk was undoubtedly the most peculiar addition to the pack around Uhtred. Why was he even carrying a sword? He seemed clueless about how to use it. Initially, you assumed he might be warming someone's bed, but it soon became evident that this was not the case.

There was no logical explanation for his presence in a warriors' camp, but there he was, offering a bashful smile as he filled the mugs with ale and handed the first one to you. You couldn't deny the calming and radiant aura that accompanied him, something intangible, something elusive that defied explanation. Always courteous and attentive, unwavering in his faith in God's benevolence, he carried the weight of being born out of wedlock with quiet dignity and bestowed genuine kindness upon those around him.

You had believed you were prepared for anything – ready to endure contempt and hatred, to withstand pain and humiliation, to employ your body as both a weapon and allure. You had experienced it all, endured it all, and each time emerged stronger. But there was one thing you hadn't been prepared for – to be accepted just as you were, to be treated with respect and appreciation. Friendship and loyalty had taken you by surprise, and above all, you had never anticipated being cared for and loved.

Love. It had been an empty word, devoid of real meaning to you. In this cursed world where power, authority, and control were the sole currencies of worth, there was no room for something as seemingly foolish as love. How could you have prepared for it when you had never felt it?

Love didn't strike you suddenly, nor did it assault your senses and reason. You might have recognized it then if it had. Instead, it arrived slowly, subtly, through tentative glances and concealed smiles, in the hesitant brush of fingers. It infiltrated your everyday life as helping hands to maintain your weapons or carry your saddlebag, as a casual shift to the side, making room for you at the fire, as unassuming inquiries when you appeared tired or unwell. The genuine care and attention that the reserved and initially withdrawn young Dane with that stern and piercing gaze framed by two mismatched eyes offered so effortlessly and unpretentiously wrapped around you like a soft, welcoming blanket. It dulled your wariness, dazzled you like freshly brewed ale, and you fell for it without regret.

“Fuck,” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed against the cold ground. You were lying flat on your back, unable to take another step. It had been a foolish mistake, really, one second you had tried to prove to the guys how easy it was to balance one too many cups of ale in your hands, the next you had found yourself on the ground. One of the other drunken guys had rammed into you, forcing you to the ground without another warning.

It had taken you a few seconds to realise what was going on, blinking the tears away that welled up in your eyes due to the pain sticking to your foot. Voices had echoed in your ears, growing louder by the second, forcing you to at least try and sit up. All you could do was watch how Finan had to hold back Sihtric, who was about to tear the guy to shreds.

You had murmured Sihtric’s name, hoping to catch his attention. If there was one thing you hated, it was being the centre of attention – and being the reason for a fight amongst the guys would definitely put you further into the said centre. It had taken Finan a few moments to get some distance between Sihtric and the guy, forcing the Dane to finally focus on you.

“Can you stand?” Sihtric had kneeled in front of you, worried eyes flickering between yours and the hurt ankle you pressed your hand against. A whimper had left you as you had to rise, plopping back to the ground with a huff. There was no use in denying the shame thumping through your veins, filling every inch of your body. Only as Sihtric had placed his hand on your chin, redirecting your gaze towards him, had you managed to look at the handsome Dane again, sending him a smile.

“Up you go.” Without another warning, Sihtric had picked you up, strong arms wrapped around your cold body. The shriek that had clawed through you had left Finan and Osferth laughing, watching Sihtric carry you towards the tent he was supposed to sleep in.

And now here you were, placed on the warm fur, eyes studying the Dane’s every move. You could tell that something was holding Sihtric back, not daring to touch you for more than a handful of moments, pulling away whenever his eyes found yours as if your mere closeness set fire through his body. It frustrated you, seeing him this weary, scared to touch your already battered body.

“Sihtric,” you murmured his name, once again sitting up to be closer to him. Your hand darted out to find his warm cheek, trying not to pay the way he seemed to hold his breath too much of your attention. Slowly your thumb began to move, stroking his soft skin, the small marks and scars littering his cheeks, marks you couldn’t help but admire. He emanated strength and danger, and yet you felt awfully safe around him, knowing that he’d always protect you – should you need it.

With your breath hitched in your chest, it took you a moment to realise what was happening. Sihtric had pressed his lips against yours, hand placed on the back of your head to keep you close, not daring to let you go. Your heart was racing, torn between excitement and confusion, since you had hoped you’d eventually find yourself in a situation like this, and yet you haven’t dared to overthink it much.

“I am sorry.” Suddenly he pulled away, trying to get some distance between the two as if you were some addicting poison he needed to stay away from. Your wide pupils followed his every haste movement, not understanding what was going on. “You’re hurt, I shouldn’t touch you, not like this.”

A soft laugh broke out of you, hand reaching out for him to pull Sihtric in for another kiss. The moan that clawed through him left you grinning against his mouth, slowly parting your lips to deepen the kiss. You found yourself pressed against the fur, with Sihtric hovering over you. Neither of you dared to break the kiss this time, not as his hands began to work on your clothes, not as you fought against the need to arch your back to let go of a deep moan.

“I want to take care of you, take away your pain. Will you let me?” His raspy voice shot shudders down your spine, eyes rolling back into your head the second his warm mouth found your chest. All you could do was moan his name, teeth running along your lower lip to somewhat try to be quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of nearby drunkards. Expectedly he sucked on your hardening nubs, grinning whenever you choked on his name. “My pretty shieldmaiden, the fiercest warrior I aim to claim.”

“Gods, Sihtric, more. Please.” Sihtric blindly followed your choked command, kissing his way down to your heat. You were dripping for him, needing to feel his hands and mouth on you before he could fuck you like you had dreamt of him doing for a while now. The way he groaned at your taste left you clenching around nothing, fingers holding onto the furs to try and ground yourself.

His colourful eyes watched you intently, not wanting to miss one single expression, telling him all about how you felt buried beneath him, with his mouth on you. You felt as if you were drowning, clinging to every breath you were allowed to inhale, close to passing out. But Sihtric was determined, wanting to push the most sinful yet most beautiful sensation through your body.

“I must have pleased the Gods for being allowed to feel you this close, you’re mine now.” A hum left you, unable to reply with words as he forced two fingers into your tightness. Your walls clenched around him, telling him that you were already close. The grin he wore on his lips was devilish as he spoke up once again, “Say it, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, fuck, only yours.” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came on his fingers, whimpering his name. Sihtric’s thumb kept circling your pulsing bundle, prolonging the intense sensations for a few more moments. For a second it felt as if you were reborn, heart racing too fast, palms sweaty from the way you had tried to hold onto the furs.

You tried to rise from your position, wondering what he’d do next, but Sihtric kept you pressed to the ground, looking like Loki himself, the trickster with a grin that could fool anybody. With wide eyes, you watched Sihtric undress, leathers plopping to the ground to expose his carefully chiselled muscles, gracing his stomach, his arms, and his thighs. All you could do was choke on your breath as your eyes focused on his hard cock, begging for your touch, to feel you wrapped around him.

“I promised to take care of you, but I won’t be gentle, not when I’ve got you buried beneath me like that.” Sihtric’s voice dripped with possessiveness, lust, and excitement, once again leaving you covered in goosebumps. You nodded, unable to speak up as his mouth found yours, kissing you breathless while he aligned himself with your cunt. “Hold onto me, mark me up.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, clawing your fingernails into his warm skin, adding more scars to the ones he had collected on battlefields. And yet he’d be prouder of the ones you added than any other, he’d fight any war if it meant getting to be with you. The both of you moaned in unison as he pushed into you, forcing your walls to adjust to his size.

Sihtric hadn’t lied, he wasn’t soft, wasn’t sweet, no, he fucked you like a man on a mission, a man who followed his lord’s commands. And you loved every moment of it, every rough thrust that managed to set your body ablaze, every thrust that left you choking on the air you were desperate for. Your nails left bloody marks down his shoulders, holding onto him as he fucked you on the fur, hoping that this was the first of many nights you’d spent on this fur together.

“You feel so good around me like the gods have crafted you for me, mine to own, mine to love.” Sihtric’s words almost drew tears to your eyes, desperately wanting to reply, to tell him about your feelings, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, once again close to falling off the edge. With one last kiss pressed to your lips, you came, moaning his name into the cold night. Sihtric fucked you through your release, groaning into the crook of your neck as he came only a few seconds later.

You both panted heavily, slowly coming down from your highs, as your foggy mind gradually cleared, and your hazy gaze locked onto Sihtric's mismatched eyes.

This was the moment you always hated the most - the moment of harsh and uncomfortable truth, filled with awkward glances, whispered words, and hurried, clumsy movements. It was the time when one inevitably left, fumbling for clothes and murmuring promises that were never meant to be kept.

You had been on both sides often enough; it was neither new nor unexpected to you. However, for perhaps the first time in your life, you felt an inexplicable emotion creeping beneath your skin. It drove you to dig your fingers into the plush, sweat-soaked furs beneath you, restraining the impulse to pathetically wrap your arms around Sihtric's shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving.

Sihtric crushed down beside you, his breath ragged, and his strong arms instinctively encircled you, pulling your back flush against his chest as though he feared you might disappear.

"Will you stay with me?" a hoarse whisper brushed against your ear, igniting a new sense of life within you.

"I couldn't leave even if I wanted to," you chuckled softly.

"Do you want to?"

"No, I don't," you whispered, turning to face him.

"Good, because I don't want you to either," Sihtric murmured, pressing his lips against yours.

I'm sorry I never found the courage to say these words to you. I always thought there would be enough time for that.

I just hope you felt it, I hope you sensed it, how much I loved you. And I still do. I want you to know that will never change. I will always love you, until my very last breath.

Tears welled up in your eyes, falling onto the vellum before you.

Muffled noises from outside caught your attention, and you hastily rolled it up, inadvertently smudging the ink where your tears had fallen. Time was running out; you had to leave. There had always been rumours of Uhtred having his own spies in Bebbanburg, though no one had ever managed to prove them. Today, you had seen him - the blacksmith from Bebbanburg, here in Rumcofa, in Uhtred’s hall. You had tried to hide, but it had been too late. He had seen you, his eyes glued to your pale face, as your heart frantically drummed against your ribs. He had recognized you, just as you had recognized him, and in that moment when your eyes met, you knew your mission had reached its end.

It was too late to confess your true purpose for coming here. You had wanted to reveal your real identity so many times, but the right moment had never seemed to come. And now, it was too late. Your past life had caught up with you, its cold, bony fingers slowly closing around your throat. You didn’t want to leave, but you couldn't stay.

Silence, absolute silence enveloped you, devoid of any sound—no voices, no footsteps, no creaking doors. There was nothing to attract your attention, it was as if the world itself had stilled, allowing your thoughts to flutter through your mind like startled birds, beating against the cage of your consciousness. You had never imagined that silence could be so agonisingly painful, so suffocating.

He will not come! He hates and detests you! You deserve it! The cruel voice echoed in your head, driving you to cover your ears with your hands. Growls of frustration escaped your lips, reverberating against the thick walls of Bebbanburg's dungeon, as you attempted to silence the relentless taunting.

Bebbanburg had fallen, or rather, it had been reclaimed by its rightful owner. You had always known this moment would come, understood that Uhtred would never relinquish his birthright, his lands, or the fortress of his ancestors. You had simultaneously dreaded and longed for this day, aware that it would spell both your doom and your salvation. And now, it was a reality.

God as your witness, you had tried to forget him. You had attempted to banish him from your thoughts, to expel the longing from your mind. For a time, you had even believed you had succeeded, drowning your yearning and hunger for Sihtric's touch, for his commanding yet gentle voice whose orders you had been so eager to obey, for the stern yet loving gaze of his mismatched eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

But the moment you laid eyes on him and Finan on the upper walkway, flanked by guards, you knew it had all been an illusion. You knew you had failed utterly. Your hand shot up instinctively, covering your mouth to stifle the scream threatening to erupt from your chest.

As if in a haze, you recalled following the guards, sneaking into the dungeon—this very dungeon whose walls you had been pounding in anger and despair for the past few hours, leaving your knuckles raw and bleeding. Then, like a bolt of lightning carrying God's wrath, like a spear hurled by an enemy's hand, it struck you. The coldness in Sihtric's gaze as he lifted his eyes from the lifeless bodies of the guards on the floor to meet yours froze the words forming on your lips, causing them to hang in the air before shattering into a thousand pieces upon the ground.

"You?" was the sole word that escaped Finan's lips as you swiftly cut through the ropes binding their hands, yet even that was laden with disdain and revulsion. You had shown them the way out, the concealed passage to the main hall, and they had left—no words exchanged, no glances shared, no turning back—just silence, relentless silence. The same oppressive silence lingered as Ælfwynn and Hild departed the fortress through the small, secret door you had revealed to them. Traitor, her eyes had silently screamed at you.

You could have fled, escaped, started anew far from this cursed fortress, far from everyone who governed your life. You could have been free. Yet, as tempting as it was, you knew there was no escaping yourself, no escaping the searing shame and longing that had gnawed at you from within all this time. You couldn't leave, not again.

It was Sihtric's hands that seized you, wrenching you to your feet and twisting your arms behind your back when they found you seated in the main hall, awaiting their arrival. You offered no resistance; the touch of him, even as his eyes blazed with hatred, sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed yourself to be dragged to the dungeon in silence. What could you say? How could you explain the inexplicable?

Leaning back against the cold and unforgiving stone wall, you felt the rugged surface digging into your skin even through your clothes as you slowly sank to the ground. Here you were, locked up in the dark and soundless cells beneath Bebbanburg, waiting for something you knew would never come. Closing your eyes, you let the silence envelop you, to become a part of you, to seep into your soul. You were alone, yet strangely, you felt free. No more lies, no more disguise. Just you.

A creaking sound reached your ears, and you slowly, almost unwillingly, opened your eyes to meet whoever had decided to disturb your silence.

“I should have known.” You’d always recognise his voice, wrapping itself around you like the warm summer breeze. But now it wasn’t warm, no, it was set on freezing you, leaving marks that would forever remind you of your betrayal. Your eyes watched his every move, wondering, perhaps even fearing, that he’d step even closer.

God, how could you have betrayed the man who owned your heart? Why did you keep quiet, when he was right there to hold you, to take away your pain?

“A traitor, good for nothing. I should be ashamed that I touched you.” At first, his words hurt you, cutting deeper than the swords he had held before ever could. But the more you pondered on them, the more you found yourself focusing on the “should” that had rolled off his tongue.

“Should?” It was just a whisper leaving you, and yet it was enough to draw a sigh from Sihtric. He unlocked the cell and stepped into the small space you were forced to call your own.

“As much as I want to hate you for betraying my lord, for betraying my family, for betraying me I can’t. The Gods know how much I tried to.” Sihtric crouched down in front of you, his differently coloured eyes wandering over your features, unable to bite down the smile that tugged on his lips as you leaned closer. Carefully he cupped your cold cheek, pondering on his next move.

“I am sorry, so very sorry.” All he did was hum, dipping his head down to kiss you. You knew that he wouldn’t forgive you easily, but yet you hoped that he’d learn to, no matter what it took, you’d do it if it meant regaining his trust. Within seconds you were pulled to your feet, front pressed against the cold stones, away from him.

The whine rumbling through you left Sihtric chuckling, a sound so familiar and yet it dripped with something you weren’t used to, something dark, something that left your body covered in goosebumps. You wanted to look at him, it had been too many hours since you had last gotten the chance to, but Sihtric didn’t loosen his grip, not even as he freed you from the fabrics and leathers covering your body.

“You’ll take my cock and you’ll thank me for it. It’s the least you can do.” The sob that left you was almost pathetic, torn between the arousal thumping through your veins and the fear holding you hostage. Would he ever forgive you? Would he ever ask you to tell your side of the story? Thoughts that were lost the second he pushed into you from behind.

It had been too long since Sihtric had last touched you, and yet your body clung to him, begging him to keep on going, to fuck you like you were his. God, how much you wanted to be his, the one to care for, the one who’d hold you close whenever you needed him to. The way he moaned into your ear, hand placed over your mouth to keep you quiet, made you shudder in need.

“Fuck, they could hang me for humping a traitor, but you feel too good, you always have.” His pleasure-drunken words made you clench around him, eyes squeezed shut to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks. This was your fault, your wrongdoing, and now you were paying the price, taking the cock of the man you loved, while he called you a traitor.

You whimpered his name, unable to keep on speaking as his cock nudged against the swollen spot, making you see stars. With your hands pressed against the cold stones, you tried to ground yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t pass out from the intense sensations, especially when he had you on your two feet.

The sounds of your bodies meeting grew louder as Sihtric felt your orgasm nearing, already done for, set on pushing you over the edge. Tears now dripped from your eyes, guided by the intense pleasure only Sihtric made you feel. Another choked gasp left you as you came on his cock, begging him to follow.

Sihtric came moments later, imprinting himself on your walls with a groan. The both of you were heavily panting, but while you had your eyes squeezed shut, Sihtric already pulled out of you, wordlessly redressing himself. Slowly you turned towards him, eyebrows furrowed, eyes glassy.

You wanted to beg him for forgiveness, once again desperate to regain his trust, but he kept on studying you, wordlessly. And without another word leaving him, he turned from you, leaving you behind, with the cell unlocked. He was giving you a way out, a test, nothing more than a test.

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #sihtric smut

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wintfleur · 3 months

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Congrats on 1k!! You're such a talented writer, and I can't think of anyone more deserving of this 💕

If it's no trouble, for the celebration, could I request 014 from 🌱 with Logan Sargeant?? Maybe where the reader is the one needing the ambulance?? If not, it's no worries, and if you want to take it in a different direction, that's perfectly okay 🫶

౨ৎ perfect?

°. — pairings ( Logan Sargeant x female! reader )

°. — summary ( your perfect date takes a turn when your date accidentally almost kills you with sesame seeds . . . oops? )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; slight cursing, a poorly written allergy reaction, I think that’s all. wc; 1.9k 😧 )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ the back of a wailing ambulance

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHH MY FIRST LOGAN FIC !!! Tysm for requesting, I had so much fun writing it. I honestly couldn’t make this angsty, I couldn’t handle sad logy tbh . . . I hope you enjoy it !!! Please don’t be a silent reader !!! And tysm for the sweet words ily 🫶🏻 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist f1 masterlist

“It's so nice out tonight” you breathed out as you looked up at the pretty night sky, the fairy lights that adored and draped around the outside restaurant created a beautiful ambience. You looked away from the sky and rested your elbow on the table and your chin on your palm as you looked across the table at your date with a small smile. He was already looking at you, his cheeks flushed as he took in your beauty. You raised your eyebrow and tease him with a small smirk “You seem to have lot of experience planning dates.”

“What? Oh . . . No I ⸺ i'm really bad at planning dates really!” Logan replied quickly with a shake of his head, he did not want you to think he had a lot of experience, because he really didn't. He just really liked you and spent hours planning a great date to take you on. You couldn't help but giggle at Logan's nervous and slightly frantic tone. You found it so endearing how nervous he was and how well he planned the date.

“Relax Logan, I'm just messing with you” You smiled sweetly as you reached your other hand to lace yours with his that rested on the table. Logan let out a heavy breath and returned the smile as he laced his hand with yours, his thumb softly caressing your skin. He wasn't always this nervous, he couldn't help but be when he was with you. You were just so perfect, so pretty, you naturally took charge and you just oozed confidence . . . how could he not be?

The two of you locked eyes, both of you finding yourself getting lost in each other's eyes. You couldn't help but look back on the day you have had with the sweet American. Technically the date started in the afternoon, the two of you touring and him taking you to his favorite spots, before taking you to a museum he knew you would love. He wasn't really the museum type, but he was willing to do anything you wanted. It's been a great day together.

“Here are your appetizers” The sound of the waiter's voice broke the intense eye contact the two of you shared. You looked away from him first and gave the waiter a small smile, reluctantly letting go of Logan's hand as you said a small thank you. The waiter smiled and set the two plates on the table and told them to enjoy the food, before leaving them.

You take your fork into your hand and take a bite of the appetizer that took you several minutes to choose. A hum of satisfaction leaves your lips after you swallow the first bite. Logan smiles and glances back down at his bowl of greens and fruit, still having to keep up with his diet for driving. You wipe the corners of your mouth with the napkin and rest it back on your lap “Wow this is really good, how did you find this place?”

“I found it last season when we had a few days off before a race” Logan replied after he stopped chewing, grabbing his glass and taking a large sip of water, his hands shaking slightly as held the glass, still as nervous. Logan cleared his throat and got a good amount of everything on his fork and lifted up for you “Wanna try mine?”

“Sure” You smiled leaning forward and opening your mouth slightly, Logan blushes and carefully slides the fork into your mouth holding his hand under the fork so he would catch anything if it spilled. Such a gentleman you mused as you chew the salad, you swallow and lick your lips.

“Mhm you have great taste” You smiled as you leaned back in your chair, your eyes twinkling in slight mischief, knowing that you weren't just meaning his taste in food. Logan chuckles and nods in agreement and before he could try to respond with some cheeky response, he's cut off by the sound of you coughing. His eyes widen and he holds out his water for you, you clear your throat and take a sip of the water. “Sorry i don't know where that came from.”

“Went down the wrong pipe?” Logan smiled reassuringly, patting your hand softly when you set down the glass of water. You try to smile but you frown instead when you feel a familiar tingling on your tongue and lips, you bring your other hand up to rub at your neck that was starting to throb “My, my throat feels funny” you lick your lips and look up at logan who was already giving you a look of worry. “Does that salad have sesame seeds or oil in it?”

Logan's eyes widen and grabs his fork and moves around the salad to search for it, his heart dropping when he sees sesame seeds . . . the food you are extremely allergic to. He's up before he could even think, moving to your side and getting on his knees, his hands frantically searching through your bag for your EpiPen he knew you always carried with you as you sat in your chair. The tingling was starting to get worse, and you were finding it harder to breathe.

“Oh my god fuck it's not in here” Logan curses and he looked through your small purse, all you had were a few lip-glosses, your keys, wallet and some hair ties, but no EpiPen. “What?” Your tone was filled with fear and your eyes were starting to glaze over with tears and it just broke his heart. Logan quickly pulled out his phone and dialed up 911. You looked away from him and down at your lap as you tried to calm down your breathing, Logan quickly told the dispatch what happened and gave them the address.

“It's okay, it's okay there on their way okay” Logan tried to reassure you but he himself was also panicking, he moved some of your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek. You nodded softly and cleared your throat, a painful cough escaping your lips. You heard the sound of multiple footsteps and the familiar sound of the waiter's voice, but you couldn't focus on them as Logan explained what was going on, one of the waiters rushing to get you more water.

The minutes seemed to fly by and before you could tell Logan that you were starting to feel dizzy you heard the distant sound of the ambulance alarm. Logan lets out a sigh of relief and quickly grabs your bag and coat off your chair before helping you stand up and holding you close, leading you towards the front of the restaurant where the ambulance was pulling in. The flashing lights made you wince and lean more against Logan as your eyes fluttered close.

He had his arm around your waist in a strong but not uncomfortable hold while his other arm was holding your things. The ambulance stopped in front of the restaurant, logan ignoring the looks they received from the people around them. An emt quickly rushes out of the back and over to the two of you, your eyes were barely open, and your ears were ringing as the emt takes you from Logan's arms and helps you into the ambulance. Sitting you down and asking you questions, your throat burned, and you didn't want to talk so Logan quickly jumped in to answer for you.

Logan paced outside of the ambulance as he kept his eyes on you and one of the Emt’s gave you an injection of a medicine he was sure he couldn't pronounce while another asked him questions on what happened. He did his best to answer them, but he was honestly too focused on making sure you were okay.

He felt terrible oh so incredibly guilty . . . this was his fault, the reason why you could have almost died from an allergic reaction was because of him. The emt’s stayed by your side while the medicine kicked in, and thankfully soon the tingling and pain was gone, your throat was a little sore but that was expected. You gave them all of your information and 30 minutes later Logan was walking you to his car to take you home.

“I have an excuse not to talk” you whispered as you motioned to your neck, the two of you were sitting in his car and Logan was about to start the car. Logan was unusually quieter than normal, and you were really hoping that he wasn't blaming himself. You continued whispering “But what's yours?”

“I’m so sorry, i totally ruined our date and almost killed you ⸺ i really like you and i wanted this to go perfectly and i ruined it, this is all my fault” Logan quickly rushed out as he turned in his seat to face you, his eyes filled with guilt and a frown on his lips. You couldn't help but grin at his words, he likes you . . . he likes you. Logan gives you a look of confusion when he sees your grin, he was fully prepared for you to be upset with him ⸺ for literally almost killing you but instead . . . you were smiling at him?

“Are you okay? Are you feeling weird from the medicine? Should I call them again?” Logan panicked as he reached for his phone, but you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers with his, they were shaking. Logan looked down at your laced hands and you rubbed your thumb over his as you whispered “I feel fine . . . perfect actually.”

“Perfect?”

“This isn't your fault, Logan. I'm the one who forgot my EpiPen'' You squeezed his hand reassuringly as you looked into his pretty eyes, you really didn't want him to blame himself for a simple and accidental mistake. “And I really like you too logan . . . i have for a while now, today went perfectly.”

How could you not like him? He was a complete gentleman, so caring . . . so perfect.

“Perfectly?” Logan whispered and if he wasn't so shocked he would have felt embarrassed for the way his voice cracked. He was sure that you would never want to talk to him again after tonight, and he wouldn't have blamed you. You couldn't help but giggle and nod your head as you watched him try to process everything you said “Mhm”

“And you really like me” Logan whispered, his beautiful blue eyes filled with happiness, you smiled and leaned across the center console to place a soft kiss on his flustered cheek, slowly pulling away and watching as Logan's eyes followed your lips before looking up to lock eyes with you as you whisper “I like you a lot.”

Logan smiled and leaned his face closer to you, your lips almost touching, and your breath hitched at how close he was to you, his eyes asked for permission, and you were the one to make the next move, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his in a soft kiss. He used his free hand to cup your cheek, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Reluctantly only pulling away so the two of you could catch your breath.

Logan grinned as he whispered against your lips, “Wanna come to mine and order a pizza?” you giggle and nod quickly, bringing your hand up to wipe the small amount of your lip-gloss that transferred to his bottom lip. You whispered back teasingly “As long as i get to pick the toppings.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I’m so sorry if this is terrible, I wrote it fairly quickly, which is rare for me. Again I hope you guys enjoy it !!! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @toasttt11 )

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demiromanticmickey · 3 months

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On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

#dead friend forever #dff the series #pheenon #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #dff meta #dff spoilers #tabarcode #dff*#*#i just love it here #this is my comfort show idc

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suugarbabe · 9 months

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heyy! you're one of my fav angst writers so I was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle x reader fic where Mattheo enjoys making reader jealous so reader goes out if her way to make mattheo jealous which ends in confessions and perhaps a smutty ending/ fluffy ending? Whatever you see fit! Thank youuuu~

(1) thank you sooo much, if I could I would just write all day long, I'm so glad you like what I put out there

(2) I loooove a jealous Teo 😊; here you go love x

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 1.9k

18+ MDNI!! be aware of the content you consume, do not read if you are a minor.

“You know if you glare any harder, you might bore a hole through the man,” Pansy’s comment did nothing to stray your eyes away from the scene in front of you. “Yeah, well he deserves it, he’s doing this shit on purpose. It’s like he gets off on making me jealous.” You watched as Mattheo continued to shamelessly flirt with the Hufflepuff girl seated next to him. She was a giggling mess at basically anything he was saying, “He’s not that funny, she’s being obnoxious.” Pansy snorted at your comment, simply shaking her head. It was when Mattheo tucked a loose strand behind her ear that you felt like your brain was short-circuiting. Pansy saw the look on your face, then followed your eyes to Mattheo and the girl, “Oh he’s in for it now isn’t he.” You let out a huff of frustration, closing your textbook and leaving the classroom.

In your dorm room you were getting ready for the party your house was throwing tonight. Typically you dressed a little more relaxed for parties your house hosts because it’s more homey to you, but tonight you were going full on vixen. You opted for a black mini dress, skin tight and hugging all the right places. You paired it with emerald green heels, a gold necklace adorned with an emerald stone and a gold snake bracelet. You allowed Pansy to do your hair and makeup, making your eyes pop and leaving your hair down your back in bouncing waves, just like you knew your boyfriend liked.

However, he was barely going to touch you tonight. Not until you allowed him to anyway. This morning he fucked around, tonight he was going to find out. When you and Pansy entered the party it was in full swing. You spotted your group of boys in the back corner, and Merlin if Mattheo didn’t look amazing. But you took a deep breath, centering yourself. No matter how good he looked, you had to stick to your plan. Pansy bounced over to Draco, throwing her arms around him and greeting him with a big kiss to his cheek. It was obvious the boys had been drinking for a while before you both got there simply by the reaction Draco had, which was a big smile and giggle.

You walked to the group a little slower. When you approached them, Mattheo’s eyes grew wide. You could see him looking you up and down and you did your best to appear unbothered by this. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, you just hummed in return. He met your eyes, “Something wrong, princess?” You put on a big smile, “No, Teo, nothing is wrong. Why did you do something you shouldn’t have?” He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Erm, no..?” Your mouth fell to a tight line, how could he be so oblivious, or was he still playing the game from earlier? You decided it was your turn now, and glanced around your circle of friends for the perfect accomplice.

Besides your boyfriend, Enzo was your favorite boy in the group. He was always so cheerful, smile plastered on his face regardless of the situation. He was a cute guy, always having his own gaggle of girls following him around, but he never really entertained it. He always seemed more interested in quidditch or parties. When he saw you looking at him his smile grew wider, “Y/n, you look, wow.” You giggled, “Thank you, Enzo, that’s very kind.” If possible his smile grew wider as he took another sip of his drink. Mattheo went to place his hand on your waist possessively, but you pushed him off, instead walking up to Enzo, “You wanna dance with me, Enzo?” Enzo’s eyes flicked to Mattheo but you grabbed hold of Enzo’s jaw, pulling him down to face you, “Please, Enzie, you know Teo never dances with me and I wanna have fun tonight.” You put on your best pout, looking up through your lashes.

You saw his shoulders slack, indicating that you had convinced him. You bounced on your toes, clapping your hands together. You knew the hem on your dress was riding up as you did so, and you could feel Mattheo’s eyes boring a hole in your back. You grabbed Enzo’s hand that wasn’t holding his drink and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor, ignoring any protests you heard from Mattheo as you passed. He looked over at Pansy, eyebrows nearly to the ceiling. Pansy held her hands up in defense, “Maybe if you’re lonely you can ask that Hufflepuff girl to dance?” Mattheo’s lips slowly turned into a smirk, realizing now the game you were playing at.

Once near the middle of the dance floor, you turned your back to Enzo, swaying your hips and grinding against him. He free hand held firm to your waist as you snaked an arm up and around his neck. He let your bodies move against each other before enlightening you, “I know what you’re doing, y/n/n.” You turn to face him, wrapping your hands behind his neck, still dancing with your body pressed to his, “You mean just dancing with one of my best guy friends?” Enzo rolled his eyes, “I know you’re using me as a ploy to make Mattheo jealous. Don’t worry though…” He leaned in closer, whispering against your ear, “He’s been a dick on the quidditch pitch all week so I’ll play along. We can give him a little show if you want.” You nodded your head quickly, then Enzo went straight to work.

As the next song came on Enzo grabbed hold of your waist, fingers dancing just above the curve of your ass. As the beat of the song got stronger, Enzo slotted his leg between yours, guiding you to essentially grind on his thigh. The song was barely a minute in before you felt another arm wrap around your waist and lift you away from your dancing partner. You didn’t even panic, you knew who it was and the way he talked to Enzo had warmth rushing to the pit of your stomach, “I don’t know what the fuck game you’re playing at Lorezno but it’s over.” Enzo held his hands up, “Listen, mate, she asked me to dance. Who am I to tell her no?” Mattheo grumbled some form of ‘fuck you’ back to him as he carried you to the edge of the dance floor and towards the stairs leading up to the dorms.

“Exactly where are we going? I’m not done dancing, nor drinking. There’s like the whole night left to party,” You were struggling against Matteo’s grip now, which only tightened with your fighting. “Oh, you’re done with the party, princess. You wanted to act like a little slut with my friend, well now I’m going to treat you like a slut.” You gasped as he threw you down on his bed, “Excuse me, sir, but Enzo is my friend too. And I wasn’t acting like a slut…we were just dancing.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, pushing you back on to the bed and crawling over you. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin making you gasp, “You don’t dance like that with my friends.”

He nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, “O-our friend.” You barely got the words out, Mattheo’s hands trailing down your sides and playing with the hem of your dress. “Do you want our friend to be here right now because if you’d rather he help you out,” Mattheo dragged his middle finger up your clothed center, “I’m sure he’d kill to feel how wet he got you.” You tried to buck your hips towards him, tried to gain any friction possible, “N-not for him, all for you T-Teo.” He hummed, trailing his lips up your neck and along your jaw, “F’me, hmm? But you’ve barely been by me all night.” He was toying with you now, thumb drawing circles over your bundle of nerves, not nearly applying the pressure you needed. You shook your head, “Only was thinking of you, wanted, ah, wanted to make you jealous.”

Mattheo hooks his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down agonizingly slow. You tug at the sides of your dress, allowing it to bunch up around your waist, “You wanting me to do something, love?” Mattheo looks up at you, eyes dancing with deviance. You tangle your fingers in his hair, “Need you, Teo.” He growled lowly at the wine in your tone, “What do you need from me, princess? Use your words.” You tugged at his curls, “Mouth, need your mouth on me.” He toys with you now, laying on his stomach, smoothing his palms up your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs before placing a kiss to each one, “Here?”

You buck your hips toward him, causing him to flatten a palm against your hip, keeping you still. Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your center. You let out a choked gasp, head falling back against the pillow, “Oh, there? Is that what you want, princess?” You open your mouth to respond when he does it again, this time pressing his thumb down on your clit as he does so. “Loss for words now, hmm? But you were talking such a big game earlier.” You want to glare at him, to tell him to fuck off but the way his mouth feels on you is pure bliss.

Your nails scratch on his scalp and the growl he releases sends vibrations straight to your core. He grips your thighs tighter, surely causing bruises but in the moment you can’t get yourself to care. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard as he plunges three fingers knuckle deep into you. Your back arches off the bed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Teo, don’t stop, please.”

You can feel the smirk on his face as he works his fingers just slightly faster, the knot in the pit of your stomach becoming tighter with each curl, each lick, each twist. Your hips roll against in face, grip tightening in his hair until you’re practically using him, riding his tongue and chasing your high and the feeling gets tighter and tighter and then the rubber band snaps, your mouth drops open and a chorus of praises mixed with his name leave your mouth. And he lets your ride it out on his tongue, on his fingers, but even when you begin to settle he doesn’t stop. He pushes against the sensitive nerves and you feel like you’re going to black out from the pleasure as he demands a second release from you before you can even stop it, not that you would even want to at this point. As you catch your breath you chance a look down at him between your thighs, catch him rub a thumb across his lips, gathering your arousal and sucking it off. You smile at him and he just grins at you, a lovestruck look on his face, “If this is my punishment I’m gonna have to make you jealous more often.” You were teasing, but slightly serious. Mattheo crawls over you, face hovering just above yours now, “Oh darling, I’m just getting started.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle one shot #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you

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aethon-recs · 6 months

Text

Tomarrymort Dead Dove Recs, Part 1 🕊️

Welcome to Part 1 of Dead Dove-themed Tomarrymort recs. I like fluff and soft and light-hearted fic as much as the next reader, but at the end of the day, Tomarrymort is a dark ship, and there are some brilliantly talented writers here creating incredibly dark & twisted absolute mindfucks of works that I want to pay tribute to.

Please note there can be found potentially triggering and disturbing content in the rec list below, so this time I will be placing all 30 of these recs below the cut. Keep in mind don’t like; don’t read, so feel free to scroll on by if non-con/dub-con is not a theme you would like to explore.

This list was made in collaboration with @danpuff-ao3’s Dead Dove Diaries Series. Check it out for other HP dead dove recs!

Tomarrymort Non-Con/Dub-Con Recs

A Single Love by Vera_DragonMuse (E, 23k, complete)

If Tom had been raised by Harry instead, would he have grown up to be Lord Voldemort?

A Special Day by @vdoshu (E, 3k, complete)

“I think a fresh start is important. I’d like one, and I think this can be it.” “It’s a bit late for a fresh start for me, don’t you think?” he retorts snidely.

Aconite; Thistle by @kushimanii (E, 32k, complete)

Voldemort decides to keep Harry alive and impregnate him to bear children that he can raise into loyal Death Eaters.

Aftertaste by @hiredhorse (E, 4k, complete)

Harry noticed the handsome stranger before the game began.

At the expense of the world by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

"He had a lover, you know," Jenkins says to Remus once Harry's behind a wall and out of sight again. "A boy, and a gorgeous one at that. Nobody really knew where he came from, and Tom didn't seem to favour him either, at first, but by the end, he was besotted." Jenkins pauses. "Might have been a girl," he says. "We don't have any drawings, and all the texts are warnings that the God-Emperor is a jealous man - do not seek his puer, or you will be slain where you stand."

Cloudy by @dividawrites (E, 5k, complete)

Trapped alone in a prison on an island, there are many things Tom forgets. But he never forgets Harry.

Dark Light by CrazyJanaCat (E, 3k, complete)

Nineteen years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, the Wizarding World is at peace, and for once, everything seems right. But what no one knows is that their hero has a dark secret...

Eulogy by @meles-merrivale (E, 6k, complete)

You run through the things you have to do for the day. It is, admittedly, a very short list. Wake up. Be clean. Be ready. An empty life, some might call it. You don’t. It is the life He has given you, and so it is what you deserve.

For He is the Sun and I am His Shadow by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 13k, complete)

The date is September 1st, 1996. Lord Voldemort is about to get everything he's ever wanted.

Frigid by @mrviran (E, 3k, complete)

In which one of Voldemort's horcruxes is broken, and needs to be fixed.

golden boy by @exarite (E, 3k, complete)

They thought Harry Potter was dead. Months after the battle at Hogwarts, the last of the Resistance finally gets captured. Voldemort shows them just how very much alive Harry Potter is.

Guaranteed Safety by Assapanick (E, 13k, complete)

The only problem would be convincing the Dark Lord to impregnate him, but Harry doesn’t plan on asking.

Harry Potter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Rut by @neurowriter14 (E, 6k, complete)

Harry goes into the forest to confront Voldemort and his death, and all the while his rut waits in the wings, drawing Voldemort's curiosity.

Heartbeat by @phantomato (E, 24k, complete)

Harry, dumped into the past, communes with dangerous men.

Honeyguide by @cannibalinc (E, 7k, complete)

“I need an Alpha," Tom states. "Someone older. Someone already established within the Ministry with strong connections. Someone kind, a bit stupid, and rich. A Pureblood, ideally. Someone who will soften my image.” “A sweet-hearted, good-looking, oblivious moderate, you mean?” Scorpius asks. “Well, that’s Harry Potter to a T. Too bad he’s married.” This is not the problem Scorpius thinks it is.

in bad faith by @cindle-writes (E, 3k, complete)

Voldemort, despite looking thin and skeletal, is heavy enough of a weight on Harry’s chest that he’s having trouble breathing, each breath feeling like a thick, syrupy effort to draw in. “Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll take care of you,” Voldemort murmurs, hot breath ghosting over Harry’s ear.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

Legacy by Pengress (E, 6k, complete)

His Horcrux stared at him with wide green eyes. Voldemort could see the panic, the fear. He had accepted his place in the ritual reluctantly, but he had given the important permission for Voldemort to use his body, and while the preparation seemed to have scared his Horcrux, Voldemort would make sure he would not go back on his word.

Lingering Warmth by anon (E, 2k, complete)

In the aftermath of Harry's death, Voldemort admires Harry's corpse, and when Harry comes back to life he finds himself in a perplexing situation.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort learns that Harry Potter is his unintentional Horcrux. He decides to make him his – mind, body, and soul. Harry is not on board with this plan. But when the Dark Lord starts using pleasure instead of pain to convince him, will he be able to resist?

on the other side by @philolust (E, 3k, complete)

Someone abducts Harry Potter and the Dark Lord in an effort to get them to cooperate and end the war. It goes horribly wrong.

Precious Horcrux by @loneamaryllis (E, 127k, WIP)

"Precious Horcrux..." The two possessive, cloying words, hissed low, made Harrie feel nauseous. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to keep you."

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Captured audio sample from Subject: You can’t keep me in here forever, Voldemort! Why don’t you come in here and face me, you COWARD! I’m not scared of you! Dumbledore will find me and—

rise anew by @duplicitywrites (E, 5k, complete)

“I must thank you for this new body of mine,” Voldemort continues in an amused tone as he flexes the fingers of his new hand, examining the unnatural length of them. “It is unexpected but not… unpleasant.”

silk of midnight and dawn by @ilya-zzz (E, 3k, complete)

Harry approaches, quietly, arms raised in front of him. It doesn’t take long before pale skin transforms into soft fur as dark as the night sky. Red eyes, now green, look at Harry with such an intensity that he has to take a step back. Four-legged and as imposing as he is when standing in two, Tom Riddle has transformed into a panther.

Such a Noble Villain (part 1) / Monster Under the Bed (part 2) by Run_of_the_mill (E, 4k, complete)

Harry and Voldemort are in a classroom, and Harry is stuck to a chair. Some very weird, creepy stuff happens next because Voldemort is who he is.

The Tattoo by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 5k, complete)

Tom gives Harry a tattoo that creates a bond between them, giving Tom some control over his mind.

The Ties That Bind by @mosiva (E, 8k, complete)

Harry finds the locket at Grimmauld Place, but it has a curse laid on it. When Harry triggers it, he finds himself trapped with the locket version of Tom Riddle, both of them stuck within the enchantment until they can find the way out. Or so Harry thinks.

Tom Riddle and the Quest for Vulnerability by lejf (E, 16k, complete)

Auror Harry Potter has eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle bent over the table barely a day after he becomes his ward.

Violent Delights by @katsitting (E, 5k, complete)

“The Golden Boy is no more…” Voldemort whispered, voice high and reedy, amused. Harry was shoved against something hard and unyielding. It scratched along his back, chafing the skin. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, refusing to make a sound when more jeers sounded in the clearing, the words cutting through the rush of blood flooding Harry’s ears—

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #dead dove #dead dove recs #dead dove do not read #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #tom riddle #voldemort

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enviedear · 6 months

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Maybe a Billy one where reader is a good Christian girl, and she goes with Billy every time he has to move etc., and he is just trying to protect her from the big bad world and disgusting people. While she is just as fiercely protective of him, but in her own way.

billy + christan!reader

request

— he'd try and keep you away from most of the danger. frequently begging you to stay put, promising to come back to you. he means it too, he couldn't imagine getting hurt and not being able to spend his life with you (ignoring the lore with my entire being rn)

"no, angel. stay right here, i swear i won't be long."

— calls you angel because you really are one in his opinion. you're too kind for the world you've brought into. always so gentle, loving, and accepting. he swears that when it's finally his time, he'll enter the pearly gates and see your pretty face.

— buys you a beautiful leather-bound bible when he's away one day and comes back with a satisfied smirk on his face. he'd insist on you reading it to him. start to finish.

you finish up the last page of book of job, smiling softly at billy, "what'd you think?" the outlaw huffs, "think poor job deserved more grace."

— makes a rule for himself to sit and pray with you in the mornings, both because he knows he's rarely ever there at night to join you and just to listen to you. he won't even really pray either, just look at you as you mutter your own.

— he'd try his hardest to keep you away from any rivals, but there are a few times they get their mangy hands on you. every time he'll raise hell and high water to get you to saftey.

"goodness billy! how many guns did you bring?" you ask, staring out at the small army of armed men on horseback. he lifts you onto his own stead, ever the gentleman, "should've brought more... kill all o'em."

— everytime he has to move, you're going with him! he lets you lead the way mostly, says your heart leads you to better places than his. he'll always get a regretful look in his eyes when he tells you that you have to make a run for it... again. he feels like shit, not being able to settle down with you like he wants.

"one day m'gonna get us our own land. just us and some animals. how's that sound, angel?" he'd grin, forehead touching yours. you'd laugh, "is that so, cowboy?"

— you'd be protective of billy just as fervently as he is with you, just a softer way. if you ride into a town that shuns him, you make it your mission to bring up the good book. how no one in this world is blameless, sinless, perfect. you'd sing his praise to anyone that'll listen. he just can't wrap his head around how genuine your love is, so unconditional.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

Text

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

#pluralistic #intermediation #disintermediation #publishing #creative labor #middlemen #distributors #publishers #publicists #enshittification #monopoly #monopsony #crad kilodney #trustbusting #antitrust

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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angel and evil steddie au where, for whatever reason, reader has put them on a sex ban/something of the sort, but one of them end up convincing her about ‘just the tip’. I think this could be both of them, but they slowly inch further and further in, swearing it’s just the top, but then u feel their balls fully pressed to u, and their only excuse is that ‘doesn’t it just feel so good/right though??’

A/N: i kinda went a bit crazy with this one, couldn’t just write a little blurb… the “just the tip” thing is just so nomnomnom yummy and i need it like i need oxygen.

word count: 2022

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“Come on Y/n,” with yielding hands, Eddie carefully sat down next to you, “look, I know I fucked up, I am well aware of that,” he emphasized, “but it’s not fair for Steve,” he motioned to the creature sulking in the corner, staring out the cracked bedroom window, “he doesn’t deserve to undergo the same punishment, my punishment, I should take the full of it, not him,” he gesticulated, “fuck, I mean, just look at him. I think if you don’t do something now, relieve him even a little bit, he will just snap and trust me, you don’t wanna see that,” even from here you could see his ivory knuckles as the angel dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood, “please, at least just kiss him a little bit.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snapping the angel out of his daze. Pointing a threatening finger towards him as he turned in your direction, “but you’re still not getting any, you got that?” you warned.

His stoic frown instantly melting away, he breathed out a soft smile, “got it,” slowly moving towards you as felt the devil crawl away.

“I will just give you one kiss, alright?” your finger was still raised as he sat down beside you, his presents causing your arm to retract as he moved in closer.

“Yep,” like coming up for air, his hands slid up to each side of your face, “one kiss,” and the next thing you knew, the angel dove in, and desperately pressed his lips against your own.

Like a man starved, Steve didn’t let his touch falter for even a second, not even parting to catch his breath as his fevered kiss quickly grew out of control. His hands soon wandered all over your form, making you dizzy and causing you not to notice fully when he desperately tilted your body down, pressing you into the mattress with his own weight, just barely hovering above you as he attacked you with his ravenous lips.

“O-okay,” you uttered weakly, his touch succeeding as usual in being extremely persuasive, “I think that counts as way more than one kiss,” your breath ragged as you turned your head for your kiss to be out of his reach.

Your legs naturally rested on either side of him, curled up and hugging his hips as he brashly melted further into you, letting you feel the previously only suspected tent in his pants press against your hot panties, your short dress haven ridden up completely. Ignoring your comment completely, he simply moved on to your neck as he began to grind down against you, needily scratching his itch and making your breath grow more wild.

“Just a little bit more, please,” he croaked, smearing his plea all over where your pulse hammered on the side of your neck, “just give me a little bit more, sweetheart,” his fingers digging into your soft thigh for support as he rocked against the growing wet spot on your exposed underwear.

“Steve,” you tried to fight how your eyes fluttered closed, still determined to keep the disappointment alive, that you had taken out on the both of them, though your arms still reluctantly slid up around his neck and fervently grabbed onto his broad shoulders.

Roaming a hand up to squeeze your tit, your nipples standing proud and visible through your thin dress, he purred, “come on, honey,” catching one of the pebbles between his fingers and tugging on it teasingly, causing your thighs to clench around his form, “I know you need this as much as I do.”

“Steve…” the rest of your words fell short as he raised himself up, hovering above you with his forearms strong on either side of your head, letting you stare into his breathtaking eyes.

Looking down at you as if you were turning into his favourite meal, he continued, “and maybe this could be a way to up his punishment…” with a finger on your jaw, he tilted your head over for you to gaze at the devil, silently watching from the corner of the room, “just let him sit there and watch you get off, while he knows he can’t have you. Wouldn’t that make it much worse for him? Don’t you want him to learn his lesson? Don’t you want him to suffer?”

“I-… fuck, fine,” you gave up in a huff, him haven driven your mind so fuzzy that you couldn’t comprehend saying anything else, “but you are not fucking me,” you said firmly, “not with your tentacles, not with your cock, not even with your finger. You stay out of my pussy, okay?”

Victory seeping across his face in the form of a sly grin, he chuckled, “okay,” agreeing hazily as he dipped back down to catch your lips.

Sneaking a hand down between your close bodies, you felt him tug your sodden panties to the side and rapidly after that heard him impatiently freeing his hard cock, a low sigh leaving his lungs as he felt the intimate contact of his throbbing length rest directly against your weeping folds, leaning his torso far enough back for him to get a good view.

“Oh my god, what did I just say?” you groaned as he, with a grip firm at the base, swiped his leaking tip through your petals, pursing your pretty pussy lips apart for him.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he laughed, holding the soaked cotton to the side, hooked in his thumb, as he rubbed his length all over your cunt, relishing in your juices, “I’m not gonna put it in you. I just wanna feel you, please. It’s been so long.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s been like a few days, a week max.”

“I don’t care, that’s still too long,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly tapped his heavy cock against your buzzing clit, making your whole body jolt in need.

“Yeah, I bet if it was up to you, I would just stay like this,” you joked, “never go to school or work again, just let you two play with me for the rest of my days.”

“Is that a proposition?” he smirked, cocking his eyebrows and pinching your plump folds on either side of his girth, letting him fuck it and glide the bulbous head over your swollen clit.

“Urgh,” you sighed, lifting your hands up and hiding your flushed face from him, “just shut up and cum so I can go back to studying.”

“Oh, yeah, you want me to be quiet all of a sudden?” you peeked down through your fingers and glanced at the sloppy mess he was making of you, “I thought you liked listening to me, listening to what you do to me…” he fucked his fist, angling his thrusts so he slid through your slick folds every time, ending each movement with a persistent nudge at your clit, “don’t lie, I know how much it pushes you over the edge.”

Maybe it was your abundant wetness causing his thrusts to go sloppy or perhaps it was just him being greedy and angling further down, accidentally catching your weeping hole on his way through your folds.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, just the sensation of him rubbing himself over your entrance made your legs quiver, “don’t do that,” you warned as it barely breached one too many times for it to have been accidental.

“Oh, come on,” he flicked against your opening, purposefully getting caught every time, “what if it’s just the tip, huh? Would that be alright? I just wanna feel you squeeze me, even if it’s just the tip.”

Biting down on your lip, his teasing becoming simply too much, you let out a whimper and nodded your head meekly at him.

The thing was, Steve was huge. There wasn’t any other way to put it. He was a powerful creature from beyond this realm and his assents made that painfully obvious. The tip of him didn’t just feel like the tip. The fat head was so big and staggering that it had your whole body just quit on you, the severe stretch being too much for it not to give out. It was always like that. It was so overwhelming that even just a whisper of him felt like he was rearranging your guts. If you didn’t look down, you never truly knew how much of him he had given you till you felt his pelvis rut against your clit and his tip bully your cervix.

Pressing his lips against your own, he muffled your pathetic whimpers as he slowly fucked you with the tip of him, rudely yanking it out just to slap the heavy length against your puffy petals, filling the bedroom with the sloppy music of your need.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as you melted into the mattress, losing yourself completely to the moment, “missed your little holes so much.”

“Don’t push in any more, promise me you won’t,” you panted, wiggling under his weight.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” he hazily shook his head, capturing your lips once more.

“Promise me,” you turned your cheek to demand.

“I promise, I promise,” his empty answer rushed out as he continued to prod your needy little hole.

Keeping his lips pressed against yours, lapping up your whimpering moans, he crushed you with his body in a way that made the rest of the world just fall away from under you, making your whole universe be just him, the agonising feeling of him bullying your opening, and his warm eyes staring back into your own as you melted into a puddle beneath him.

“Fuck,” you suddenly exclaimed as all the air in your lungs was forced out, “you asshole!” the all too familiar overwhelming sensation of him reaching the end of what you had to offer, making you doubt if you were on the verge of cumming or about to punch him, “I knew you were gonna do that!”

Grinding his pelvis against your own, burying himself so deep that it hurt, he taunted, “if you were really so smart, then why did you let me?” relishing in the feeling of your cunt clambering down around him.

Trying not to give him the satisfaction, you muttered, “god, I hate you,” though your conviction was lost completely as his sudden and powerful thrust made you moan out in enchanted ecstasy.

“Aw, I love you too, honey,” he chuckled, kissing your fuzzy features as he found his greedy rhythm, “doesn’t this feel so much better, though?”

“I can feel you in my fucking throat,” you gasped, a statement true of every time he had filled you up.

Adoring eyes soaking in your every reaction, he growled in response, “exactly.”

His hands then swiftly grabbed yours as they began to claw at his back, hauling them up above your head and locking them in his tight grip.

“This pretty little pussy just needed to be stuffed,” he cooed against your lips, “it’s what she deserves,” his balls, dripping with your juices, slapped against your heat with every needy slam, “deserves to be treated like this,” he empathized with his hips, “deserves to be used,” he shifted his grip on your wrists, gliding up to weave his fingers with yours, “to be loved,” his nose rhythmically bumped against yours as he pushed you over the edge, “to be worshipped,” he fervently captured your lips, silencing the guttural cry that escaped as you trembled violently beneath him, soaking the bedsheets and gushing all over his cock.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, his gruff moans washed over you as your clenching cunt milked him of all of his worth.

“Fuck,” he panted, forehead resting against your own as he insatiably continued to roll into you, sloppily fucking his cum even deeper and forcing it to spill out as your pussy clambered around him, “I love you so much…”

“You are so terrible,” you said light-heartedly as a dazed smile bloomed upon your blissed-out face, your brows swiftly knitting together at his excessive and relentless desire.

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