#I had a surge of energy to write

[somewhat-bored]

Leila probably should've checked with Emily to see if the goop she was covered in was toxic or not before agreeing to spend an entire school day trapped in this vat. But, impulsive and eager to learn magic and to help a nice girl pass her classes, she had no second thoughts about pretending to be an Abomination. The slime didn't seem to be too bad, at worst it was going to stain her clothes, which could be removed with magic. The vat on the other hand was kind of a tight space, but it was alright all things considered. It was bigger than the closets she was frequently shoved in back at the orphanage, and Emily kept the lid cracked open a few inches and frequently checked on Leila to see if she was okay.

It was currently lunch time, and the pair was sitting near a window. Peeking out of the lid, Leila could see Ridley seated on the other side of the room, accompanied by two look-alike witches. She was scowling ("When is she not?" Leila thought to herself.) and clearly trying to focus on her book whilst the other witches tried their best to distract her. "So..." Leila began, "Why is Ridley so- grumpy?"

Emily looked down. "What do you mean?"

"She's really mean to you."

Emily sighed. "I don't know. I don't think her main goal is to make my life miserable, but she's very competitive. She got really upset after we got the top student star."

Leila scrunched her eyebrows together in thought. Ridley did seem frustrated when Emily "outdid" her own Abomination. It wasn't their intention to make her lose her spot as the best in class, but the look on her face was priceless.

"Sometimes I wish I could've been her friend. Ridley's very smart and all, but she's really hard to get along with," Emily said.

"Well, lemme tell you something!" A voice from behind them said. Emily jumped and Leila jolted, knocked her head against the cover of the cauldron, causing it to fall off. The mystery voice caught it before it shattered on the ground. Standing behind them was a boy wearing a light blue uniform who looked a lot like the duo by Ridley. Triplets? Leila thought to herself.

"OIly, you have to stop doing that!" Emily exclaimed.

"Why? We're the best at popping up behind people! Rare talent these days," Olly replied, setting the lid down on the table. "By the way, Abominations don't usually talk, do they?"

Leila froze. How long had he been eavesdropping on their conversation? She hadn't prepared for a scenario where she had been caught.

"Oh, this is Leila. She's a human, long story." Emily summarized. Turning to Leila, she said, "This is Olly, he and his twin sister are in the Illusion Track. I don't think he'd snitch on us, they're notorious pranksters." Olly nodded proudly in affirmation to the statement.

"What were you going to tell us about Ridley?" Leila piped up, eager to hear what Olly had to say.

"Alright, but you didn't hear this from me, you heard it from Izzy." Olly began. "We're friends with Ridley-"

"You're friends with everyone." Emily interjected with a small laugh.

"Rude interruption, but anyways, since we're friends with Ridley, we know that she was once friends with Theodore Stein-Meyer." Olly made a great emphasis on the name.

Clearly the person was important, as Leila saw Emily look bewildered and confused. "Theo? Really? They're so different-"

"Who is Theo?" Leila asked.

Olly pointed to the right to a group of witches. "See the one with the violin? That's Theo. His father is head of the Bard Coven." Another boy was sitting up straight, clearly unamused by the people he was surrounded by. A violin case laid aside his person as he looked aimlessly about the cafeteria, bored with his company.

"So anyways, they were friends once upon a time, and then they had a huge falling out! Ridley doesn't want to focus on friendship anymore. She'd rather do schoolwork to 'become the greatest witch ever' or something to that affect." Olly continued to speak dramatically.

Throughout the time spent gossiping with Olly, Ridley noticed they were talking and made her way over to the group. Izzy and Olly(?) made their way quickly behind her.

"Oh darn, Ridley noticed, gotta go!" With that, Olly poofed into a blue smoke and vanished. Emily tried to visibly not panic as Ridley arrived and scrambled to put the lid back on the pot.

"So Emily, how are you today?" Izzy asked.

"Tell me about your Abomination." Ridley cut in, clearly wanting answers. "How'd you make it. Why it's less fluid and more mechanical. When did you even get time to construct the Abomination before school started?"

Emily stuttered, looking for an explanation other than, "We totally cheated." Luckily, she was saved by the screaming bell as the rest of the lunchroom traveled to their next classes.

Ridley looked very frustrated and very determined to find the truth.

"Hey Ridley, did you know your face gets really red whenever you get mad?" Izzy said jokingly. Ridley's eyes widened and she turned to Izzy, scowling once more.

"Be quiet Izzy. And quit keeping up the Illusion of Olly, I know he was talking to Emily."

"What do you mean?" Asked Olly, "I'm right here!" The Illusion poofed and the real Olly was standing in it's place. "I made myself a half-inch taller and you didn't notice!"

With Ridley being annoyed and distracted by the antics of the twins, Emily took that as her cue to grab the vat wagon and leave. Leila couldn't have been more relieved at leaving, and hoped that was all the excitement for today.

#the magic misfits #owl house misfits swap AU #I had a surge of energy to write #happens once every full moon #behold: lore #we get to Ridley x Leila later #character building right now

[austerulous]

I’ve had a bit of an influx of followers recently and I just want to emphasise: I’m reluctant to interact with blogs that are highly exclusive or very heavily affiliated.

#i had a recent surge of heavily affiliated blogs follow me and it’s just not my bag #obviously i’m not talking about people having mains or being generally selective about who they engage with #i’m talking about blogs that give me a distinctly cliquey vibe #nothing personal i’m simply not here for it #i aspire to match the energy and enthusiasm of my writing partner(s) which means there is always room at my table ♡ #◈ — ooc; puffin speaks #tbd

[raiswanson]

Me at the end of June: "For July I'm going to start on a new WIP and quietly clean up Seals!"

My computer on July 1st: *essentially self destructs*

Me: 👁👄👁

#so thats how my july went #my hard drives are fine so i didnt lose anything #but guess who had to buy a whole new computer because her motherboard was 8yrs old and they dont make them anymore! #i havent been able to write A L L month i am DYING #ive been stuck using my phone for eVERYTHING #buy a surge protector folks. dont be me 😭 #new one supposed to ship soon. send me your energies for a writing spirit bomb if you have any to spare

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮

gojo x virgin!reader x nanami

request: i deleted the ask by mistake. it contained nanami helping gojo to lose your virginity. tags: soft dom!gojo, mean dom!nanami, petnames, degradation, threesome (?), commands, established relationship gojo x reader, alcohol – all three are drunk, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, of course not beta read notes: this was my first time writing m x reader x m in one scene wc: 2.4k

In the intimate setting of your home, you and Gojo sat across from each other at the kitchen island, your friend Nanami perched on a stool nearby. Glasses of wine in hand, you chatted and laughed, the atmosphere light and easy.

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely, Nanami found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. Your laughter was infectious, your smile radiant, and with each passing moment, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the kitchen lights.

The alcohol acted as a catalyst, dulling Nanami’s inhibitions and heightening his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling of attraction that simmered just beneath the surface, the way his pulse quickened whenever you leaned in close to share a joke, the subtle curve of your lips as you sipped your wine.

As the night wore on, the air grew thick with tension, a palpable energy that crackled between them. Nanmi tried to brush off his feelings, to ignore the heat that coiled in the pit of his stomach whenever your gaze met his own. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to deny the desire that burned within him.

As the conversation meandered from topic to topic, Gojo found himself playing a silent game of cat and mouse with Nanami, watching with amusement as his friend struggled to maintain his composure in the presence of your effortless charm.

And then, in a moment of mischief, Gojo decided to drop a bombshell that would change the dynamic of the evening entirely.

"Yo, Nanami," Gojo said casually, interrupting the flow of conversation. "Did I ever tell you that she’s still a virgin?"

The revelation hung in the air like a sudden gust of wind, catching both Nanami and you off guard. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, while Nanmi's eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, ‘toru!”

With a smirk, Gojo leaned back against the couch, relishing the opportunity to turn the tables on his friend. "She told me that she fantasizes about you helping me... you know, take her virginity."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications, as both you and Nanami continued to stare at Gojo in shock. Your cheeks flushed even a darker crimson with embarrassment, your eyes widening in disbelief, while Nanami’s jaw dropped open in stunned silence.

Gojo couldn't help but chuckle at your reactions, thoroughly enjoying the sudden shift in dynamics. He had expected surprise, perhaps even a bit of discomfort, but the intensity of your reactions took even him by surprise.

The air crackled with tension as you and Nanmi exchanged a glance, both unsure of how to respond to Gojo's bombshell revelation.

Nanami couldn't shake the sudden surge of desire that pulsed through him. The playful banter had taken an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

Leaning in closer to you, Nanami's voice took on a seductive edge as he asked, "Is Gojo serious?"

His breath grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you met his gaze, your eyes dark with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his proximity stirring something primal within you.

Caught off guard by the intensity of the moment, your heart raced in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. You could feel the weight of Nanami's gaze, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing second.

Unable to resist the allure of the moment, Nanami closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The air crackled with anticipation as your breaths mingled, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch. Slowly you nodded.

With a boldness Nanami hadn't known he possessed, he reached out and grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap so your back pressed against his chest.

YOu gasped in surprise at the sudden intimacy, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself enveloped in Nanami's embrace. The heat of his body seared through you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

Feeling emboldened by her response, Nanami's hands traveled along the curve of your thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through you. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guided your legs, pulling them up to your own chest, the fabric of your skirt bunching up around your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to the sensation, your pulse racing with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. The air crackled with electricity as Nanami's touch sent sparks flying, the boundaries between you fading away in the heat of the moment. Lost in the throes of passion, you leaned back against Nanami.

“I’ll help you.”

As the scene unfolded before him, Gojo felt a surge of desire unlike anything he had ever experienced. The sight of his lovely girlfriend, your legs spread open for him, ignited a primal fire within him, sending a rush of heat coursing through his veins.

With each breath, Gojo could feel the tension in the room thickening, the air crackling with raw, unbridled desire. His gaze locked onto you, your body glistening with anticipation, your eyes dark with lust as you lay in Nanami's embrace.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, Gojo approached you slowly, his heart pounding in his chest with each step. He stopped right in front of you, between your legs, his eyes raking over your exposed form with hunger.

Your breath caught in her throat as you watched Gojo's approach, your body thrumming with anticipation at the promise of what was to come. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, igniting a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you whole.

As Gojo stood before you, his presence looming over you like a tantalizing promise, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you. You longed to reach out and pull him closer, to feel his touch against your skin and lose yourself in the ecstasy of their passion.

“Gojo, start prepping her.”

As Nanami's command hung in the air, Gojo felt a surge of arousal course through him. Without hesitation, he leaned in closer to you, his lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your collarbone and down your neck. With each tender touch, he could feel your body respond, your breath hitching with every caress, before he got on his knees.

Meanwhile, Nanami wasted no time in exploring your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves, igniting a blaze of desire wherever they touched. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his hands on your skin.

Gojo shifted his focus to your most intimate desires. With tender care, he trailed his fingers along your inner thighs, feeling the shiver of anticipation that rippled through your body.

“Know you like being teased, princess.”

Your breath hitched as Gojo's touch grew bolder, his fingertips dancing tantalizingly close to your most sensitive areas. Each caress sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, your body responding eagerly to his gentle ministrations.

With a soft whimper, you parted your legs slightly, granting Gojo access to your already wet cunt. Encouraged by your response, Gojo leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your soft skin as he worshipped your clit with reverent devotion.

As the heat between you intensified, Gojo's touch grew more insistent, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as he teased and tantalized your senses. You moaned softly, your body writhing with pleasure to the overwhelming sensation of his touch.

As Gojo's hands worked their magic below, you felt Nanami's touch ignite a fire within your chest. His fingers danced across your skin with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

With each caress, Nanami whispered dirty secrets into your ear, his words sending waves of desire crashing over you like a tidal wave. His voice was a seductive melody, low and husky, as he painted vivid images of your shared desires, igniting a primal hunger deep within her core.

“You wanted me to help, huh? I didn’t know you were that dirty. Such a slut.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami's words washed over you, his dirty talk awakening a hunger you never knew existed. You arched her back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of his words, more of everything he had to offer.

“Bet you wouldn’t mind Gojo fucking your cunt while I thrust into your mouth, hm, little one?”

With each whispered confession, Nanami's touch grew bolder, his fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing your tits. His lips grazed your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to whisper sweet promises of pleasure and ecstasy.

Lost in the throes of passion, you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of Nanami's touch and the heady rush of desire that consumed you. In that moment, with his hands on your tits and his words in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you belonged.

The contrast between Gojo's gentle touch and Nanami's dominant demeanor sent a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. With each caress from Gojo, you felt yourself melting into a pool of blissful surrender, Gojo’s fingers sliding in and out gently, slowly.

Gojo's touch was like a soothing balm, comforting and reassuring in its softness. He worshipped you with tender care, his fingers bending inside your pussy, hitting your sweetest spot. With each gentle stroke, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You’re such a good girl for me, princess. Your pussy is soaking already, sucking my fingers in.”

Meanwhile, Nanami's dominant presence sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a primal hunger deep within your core. His commanding touch left no room for hesitation, his fingers moving with purpose as he claimed you with a confidence that set your pulse racing.

“Dirty slut, can’t wait for Gojo’s cock, huh?”

The contrast between their approaches sent sparks flying, each touch more electrifying than the last as they danced the delicate dance of pleasure and desire. Gojo's tenderness and Nanami's dominance blending together in a symphony of desire. You surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed you.

With each passing moment, the tension between you three reached a fever pitch, the air thick with the promise of what was to come. 

“Gojo, stand up.”

Gojo pulled back and stood up, an enormous bulge visible in his dark pants. You cried out due to the lack of your pussy being filled.

“Don’t cry, slut. Stand up, turn around and bend over.”

As Nanami's commanding voice cut through the air, Gojo's pulse quickened with excitement. With a nod from Nanami, he rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on you, who stood ready to follow their instructions.

You, too, complied without hesitation, your heart racing as you turned to face Nanami, your back now presented to Gojo. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation, you bent over as instructed, feeling a flush of heat spread across your skin as you exposed yourself to them both.

Positioned behind you, Gojo's breath hitched as he took in the sight before him. Your curves were tantalizingly close, your back arched in invitation as you awaited their next move.

With a confident stride, Nanami approached you, his presence commanding as he guided you into position. Gojo's pulse quickened as he watched Nanami's hands roam over your body, guiding you with firm yet gentle touches.

Meanwhile, your senses were ablaze with anticipation, your skin tingling with the heat of their proximity. You could feel Gojo's presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he waited eagerly for his cue. With a flicker of excitement, Nanami positioned himself before you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Fuck her, Gojo, show the little slut what a cock inside her cunt feels like.”

The knowledge that you were about to give yourself to him, to surrender your innocence in the heat of the moment, sent a rush of excitement coursing through your veins.

With a sense of urgency, Gojo stepped even closer to you, his hands trembling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. His touch was gentle yet firm as he guided himself towards you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he prepared to take your virginity.

Your body tensed with anticipation as you felt the weight of Gojo's desire pressing against your, his tip gliding up and down between your slit, feeling your wetness. With a final, longing look exchanged between you, you braced yourself for the inevitable, knowing that there was no turning back now.

“Going in now, princess.”

And as Gojo entered you for the first time, the world seemed to fade away around you, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you. It hurt yet felt incredibly good at the same time. Gojo was filling you up completely as your pussy clenched around his hard cock.

“F–fuck, baby…ahh, you’re fucking tight.”

Gojo hips moved slowly but hard, thrusting into your tightness. God, how often has he dreamed about pounding into your puffy cunt? Making you scream and beg for him to fill you up?

As Gojo's gentle thrusts began, you were overwhelmed by a rush of sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Each shallow movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of Gojo's touch, your body arching instinctively to meet his with each gentle thrust. The heat between you grew with each passing moment, fuelled by the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you.

With every movement, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of your shared desire. You almost forgot Nanami, almost.

Nanami stepped forward with a commanding presence. Your eyes widened as you saw his cock – big, thick, adorned with veins. Nanami’s hand reached out and he gripped your hair. With a firm, he pulled you closer to his cock, his larger and thicker shaft now in stark contrast to Gojo's.

"Thought Gojo would be the only one having fun now? Open your mouth, slut, I’m going to fuck your face."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #gojo jjk #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader

[starwrighter]

I lied about only making one ship post :/

Thank you @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 your prompts fueled this one. Specifically this one.

Dead serious soulmate au but in separate universes.

In the DP universe soulmates are widespread with pretty much everyone having one. In the past soulmates were only seen as purely romantic and it was abhorrent if you didn't have one, rejected/cut off your soulmate or they died before you.

Soulmates still heavily impact DP universes present society but not in the same ways as before. Current day Soulmates can be platonic or romantic and while it wasn't as demonized as it was in the past cutting off a soulmate is still an incredibly taboo.There are different types of soulmates (ie the red string, skin writing, telepathy, shared sensation,..)

Danny shares pain with his soulmate. While he can't exactly communicate directly with his soulmate he has the ability to heal them a little through the bond. Danny's soulmate was always getting hurt somehow or another to the point he had an unnaturally high pain tolerance by the time he turned 14.

His soulmate hasn't ever healed him back and sometimes Danny forgot he existed at all. As a half ghost it was so much easier to heal his soulmate; with just a surge of energy he could completely heal any injuries his soulmate acquired and go back to whatever it was he was doing before his soulmate got hurt.

Danny was fine with forgetting his soulmate existed. Whoever was on the other end clearly didn't want anything to do with him considering they couldn't even pitch in to heal a papercut. He would still heal his soulmate when he needed it but he just gave up hoping for any kind of relationship with him.

On the DC side of things Soulmates are extremely rare and little to nothing is know about them. Damian of course is one of the very few people who had a soulmate; the small blue soulmark on his chest was proof of that. Damian's soulmark was ignored treated like it didn't exist at all until the day it started healing him.

Then his soulmate was his everything. His soulmate was someone he needed to protect with every fiber of his being and someone he desperately needed to find. Damian kept these beliefs even after he left the league and especially when his soulmates healing powers got stronger.

After years of searching the last place he expected to meet his soulmate was some dingy alleyway...

He could finally start courting him.

#I don't usually ship anything but #Them boys got my brain in a chokehold #dp x dc #dpxdc #deadserious #damian wayne x danny fenton #Clockwork dropped Danny into Dc. Danny proceeded to immediately get mugged #kinda yandere Damian #the batfam would prevent him from doing anything too drastic #Danny getting kidnapped and leaving with a ridiculous amount of money from his kidnapper's apologetic father: ?? #call that reverse ransom

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Be Kind

The Bruises On Your Ego Make You Go Wild (1)

Scarlet Witch x Witch!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You looked up to the Scarlet Witch, but what happens when you finally get the chance to learn from her?

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, R calls SW Goddess, W refers to herself as Mommy, pet names (little one, pet), SW is abusive towards R, W takes care of R.

A/N: I mean if I was R.....I'd do it. I was in fact listening to Be Kind by Halsey on repeat while writing this.

In a secluded corner of the mystical realm, where the lines between reality and magic blur, the Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, stood amidst swirling energies, her presence commanding and potent. It was there that she encountered a young woman, whose devotion to her was fervent and unwavering.

"T-the Scarlet Witch." You stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you beheld your idol in the flesh.

Wanda turned her gaze towards the diminutive figure before her, her expression unreadable. "Who might you be, little one?" Her tone held a hint of icy detachment, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Y/N...Y/L/N..." You managed to utter her name, your hair cascading around your face like a veil as you stood in awe before the legendary sorceress.

"What is it that you seek?" Wanda inquired, her crimson eyes piercing into your soul as she took a step closer.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat. "Y-you...My Goddess," You confessed, your voice trembling with reverence.

"Goddess?" Wanda's curiosity was piqued as she regarded the young woman before her.

"Yes. You are a Goddess to me, the power you wield...it's unimaginable for someone like me," You confessed, your eyes shimmering with adoration. "I know I'll never be anywhere close to you, but I would love to be beneath you. Learn from you. Have you tell me exactly what to do and how to do it."

"Why?" Wanda's question hung in the air, demanding an answer.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you spoke your truth. "Making Doms feel powerful is my favorite thing to do. You SHOULD feel like a fucking Goddess when I'm worshipping your feet and praying at your altar. I want the powertrip of you owning me to ruin your life so you can never accept anything less than being treated like royalty."

"Beneath me is right where you belong pet." She's right up against you, hand around your neck squeezing ever so slightly, just enough to make you fuzzy.

Your heart raced as the Scarlet Witch loomed over you, her presence both intimidating and intoxicating. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, there was an undeniable thrill at being in the presence of your idol.

"I-I'm yours," You stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Completely and utterly."

The Scarlet Witch's grip tightened, and Harley's breath caught in her throat. But it wasn't fear that consumed her; it was a heady mix of desire and devotion.

"Good," the Scarlet Witch murmured, her tone sending shivers down your spine. "You will serve me well, little one."

With those words, you knew your life would never be the same. You had found your purpose, your goddess, and you would follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond.

With a flick of her wrist a portal opened, "You will always stay a step behind me. Never beside me and absolutely never in front of me." You nod and she grips you a little tighter, your breath catching. "Words." She demanded.

"Yes My Goddess." She smiled, letting you go as you fell to your ass, gasping for air.

"Let's go. Now." She commanded. Heart pounding, scrambling to your feet, your body trembling with anticipation and excitement. You followed the Scarlet Witch through the portal, your mind swirling with a mixture of fear and adoration.

As you stepped through to the other side, you felt a surge of power coursing through your veins. You were no longer just a mere mortal; you were a disciple of the Scarlet Witch, ready to do whatever it took to prove your loyalty.

With each step you took behind your goddess, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be. And as you vanished into the unknown, you vowed to never stray from her side, forever bound to serve the one who held your heart and soul in her hands.

As you delved deeper into your role as a disciple of the Scarlet Witch, you found yourself immersed in a world of rules and rituals. Each day brought new lessons, new challenges, and new opportunities to prove your devotion.

You learned to always stay a step behind your Goddess, never daring to step out of line. Pets weren't allowed on furniture, a rule that you quickly adapted to, finding comfort in your place at your Goddess’ feet.

Touching was strictly forbidden unless granted explicit permission, a lesson you learned the hard way more than once, but each reprimand only fueled your desire to please your Goddess even more.

And then there was the rule of silence, a constant reminder to only speak when spoken to and to always address the Scarlet Witch as "My Goddess." It was a rule you followed religiously, your words carefully chosen and spoken with reverence.

But amidst the strict guidelines and rigid structure, there was magic. The Scarlet Witch shared her knowledge with you, teaching you the ways of the arcane arts as the two of you went about your days. And as you found yourself clad in nothing but the barest of clothes, you knew that your Goddess held the ultimate power over you, both body and soul.

As you unleashed your blue light magic, a palpable energy filled the air. The Scarlet Witch observed with a wicked smile, recognizing the potential within her devoted disciple.

"Oh, I'm going to have to corrupt my pet much more in order to train you properly," the Scarlet Witch declared, her voice carrying a husky tone that sent shivers down your spine.

Your eyes sparkled with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Yes, My Goddess. Do with me what you must," you responded, a fervent willingness in your voice.

In that moment, the Scarlet Witch saw not just a follower, but a canvas upon which she could weave her magic and desires. The journey of corruption and training had only just begun, and you willingly surrendered yourself to the whims of your Goddess, ready to be molded into something both powerful and utterly devoted.

You were doing your normal chores around the house for your Goddess as she spent time in her room meditating. Laundry, cleaning up the various rooms of the house, and of course cooking dinner for your Goddess. You hum a tune, moving your hips to the imaginary tune in your head, so focused on your task that you don't hear her come into the kitchen until you’re suddenly pushed against the counter. "Who told you that you could have fun while doing your chores?" She growled at you.

Startled, you froze as the Scarlet Witch pushed you against the counter, your heart pounding in her chest. The playful hum died on your lips as you looked up at your Goddess, your eyes wide with surprise.

"I-I'm sorry, My Goddess," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I was just... lost in my thoughts."

The Scarlet Witch's gaze bore into you, a mixture of irritation and amusement flickering in her eyes. "Lost in your thoughts, hmm?" she mused, her voice low and dangerous. "You forget your place, little one. Your only purpose is to serve me, not to have fun."

Your heart sank as you realized your mistake. You had let your guard down, allowed yourself a moment of pleasure amidst your duties. It was a mistake you wouldn't make again.

"I-I understand, My Goddess," you replied, your voice tinged with remorse. "It won't happen again."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, the Scarlet Witch released her hold on you, allowing you to straighten up. As you resumed your chores with renewed focus, you vowed to never forget your place again, determined to be the perfect servant for you goddess's every whim.

After getting your Goddess' meal together you stayed curled up next to her on the floor silently while she ate. You didn't want to upset her anymore, but as she finished up, throwing away what she didn't eat instead of giving it to you a small whine came up your throat. She ignored the noise as she grabbed your bowl from the floor and grabbing last night's left overs throwing them into your bowl without reheating it in anyway, setting it back down.

"Eat pet." Another whine, you hate cold food. "Now or you can starve tonight." you didn't want to loose your food privileges. With a heavy heart, you obediently began to eat the cold food, each bite a reminder of your place in the hierarchy of your relationship. "There we go pet."

As you ate, the Scarlet Witch cleaned up the remnants of her own meal, her movements precise and efficient. You watched her, a mixture of admiration and longing swirling within you.

Once you finished your meager meal, you lowered your gaze, feeling the weight of your goddess's presence beside you. You knew you had disappointed her, and the thought pained you more than you cared to admit.

But as you sat there, bowl empty and stomach still grumbling, you vowed to do better. You would serve your Goddess with unwavering devotion, no matter the cost. For in the end, you knew that your goddess's approval was all that truly mattered.

"Come on pet. Living room. Time for some rest " You went to get up, but she pushed you back down, "Bad pets crawl." Another whine pushes through you as you felt your knees throb.

"Yes My Goddess. I'm sorry My Goddess."

You obediently crawled behind your Goddess, your knees aching with each movement. You suppressed another whine, knowing that any sign of defiance would only earn you further punishment.

Settling at the Scarlet Witch's feet, you shivered as a draft swept through the room, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. But you dared not complain, instead curling up tighter in an attempt to ward off the chill.

As the Scarlet Witch relaxed on the couch, book in hand and music filling the air, you remained at her feet, your gaze fixed on your Goddess with unwavering devotion. Despite the discomfort and the ache in your limbs, there was nowhere else you would rather be.

For in that moment, with your Goddess by your side, you felt a sense of belonging unlike anything you had ever known. And as you drifted off to sleep, curled up at the feet of your beloved Goddess, you knew that you would follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond.

You fell asleep at The Scarlet Witch's feet and for a moment the Scarlet Witch wasn't that she was Wanda. The soft caring Sokovian that only poked through in small moments. Looking down at you Wanda couldn't help, but smile. She noticed the goosebumps and the shiver that wracked you as she grabbed a blanket, throwing it over you. Wanda watched as the young girl curled up with the blanket, a smile on your lips.

As Wanda's soft, caring side emerged, she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and tenderness towards you, the young girl who had devoted herself so completely to her.

"I do love being your Goddess," Wanda whispered, her voice filled with genuine affection. "But maybe we can have more moments like this sometime when you're awake."

Leaning down, Wanda ran her fingers through your hair, savoring the fleeting moment of intimacy. For a brief instant, she allowed herself to revel in the bond you shared, the connection that went beyond the roles of Goddess and disciple.

But as quickly as the moment had come, the Scarlet Witch reclaimed control, her expression hardening once more. With a final glance at you, she rose from the couch, leaving you to your dreams.

As Wanda disappeared into the shadows, a part of her held onto the hope that perhaps, someday, they could have more moments like this, where the lines blurred, and they could simply be two souls finding solace in each other's presence.

As you woke up with the comforting warmth of the blanket draped over you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between yourself and the Scarlet Witch. Gone was the brief glimpse of Wanda's softer side, replaced instead by a harsher, more unforgiving demeanor.

As days turned into weeks, you found yourself facing increasingly harsh punishments for even the slightest slip-up. The Scarlet Witch's reprimands grew sharper, her punishments more severe, leaving you constantly sore and bruised from the onslaught of red magic.

Confusion and frustration gnawed at your mind as you struggled to understand the sudden change in your Goddess’ behavior. What had you done to deserve such harsh treatment? Why had the kindness you had glimpsed before been replaced by cruelty?

But try as you might, you couldn't find the answers you sought. All you could do was endure the pain and punishment, clinging to the hope that someday, the Scarlet Witch's wrath would relent, and you would once again know the gentleness you had experienced that one fleeting moment with the blanket.

One day it happened, you cracked and just started crying, you weren’t even being punished you were just thinking way to much.

"I...don’t...understand. why...why is it only punishments? Why can't I do anything right anymore? I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..." As your tears flowed freely, your heart heavy with sorrow and confusion, you felt a presence beside you, a warmth enveloping your trembling form. You looked up through blurred vision to see Wanda, her eyes soft and filled with compassion.

"It's okay, little one. It's okay, Mommy is here," Wanda murmured, her voice gentle and soothing. She gathered you into her arms, holding you close as she shushed away your tears.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected term of endearment, "Mommy?" you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

With a tender smile, Wanda nodded, her green eyes shining with love and affection. "That's right, little one. I'm your mommy," she confirmed, her fingers gently brushing away your tears.

A sense of warmth and safety washed over you as you nestled into Wanda's embrace, feeling a bond between them that went beyond disciple and Goddess. In that moment, you knew that you were loved, cherished, and protected.

"I'm sorry she's been so mean to you recently," Wanda apologized, her voice filled with regret. "But I won't let her keep hurting you like that. You've had enough. It's time for some nice play to take place."

With those words, Wanda wiped away the last of your tears, her touch a balm to your wounded soul. And as the two of you shared a tender moment together, you knew that you had found solace in the arms of Wanda, the Scarlet Witch's harshness melting away in the presence of Wanda's love.

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #the scarlet witch x fem!reader

[misshoneyimhome]

Say My Name, Say My Name I Quinn Hughes 🖋️🌺

Requested? Yes / No

Summary; Based on the Tik Tok trend, calling your boyfriend “husband”

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; Tik Tok trend; fluff, marriage proposal; no warnings;

Other notes: For the second story of this TikTok trend, I've challenged myself with writing for Quinn Hughes for the first time 😊 To be honest, I didn't know much about him to fully capture his character, however, this is pretty much how sweet I imagine this boy to be 🤭🤍 Since I had a few different ideas of how to approach the request, this turned out to be nothing but pure fluff 🌺🥂

I hope you enjoy it 🌷🐰

Word count; 1.6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

As the sun dipped low, casting a gentle glow over the bustling streets of Vancouver, you strolled alongside your boyfriend, Quinn Hughes. The city buzzed with its usual activity, providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation on this typical Thursday evening. And with the promise of a hockey-free weekend on the horizon, a mischievous idea had crept into your mind – sparked by a popular TikTok challenge that had been gaining traction online.

In recent weeks, you'd seen numerous videos of people teasingly calling their boyfriends "husbands," while recording their partners' bewildered reactions for entertainment. And intrigued by the trend, you couldn't resist the urge to try it out with Quinn.

After nearly three years of shared laughter and cherished moments in your relationship, you were confident that Quinn would find the prank amusing, perhaps even earning a reaction with a hint of panic. So, with a playful glint in your eye, you had naturally shared your plan with your closest friend, enlisting her help in pulling off the light-hearted prank.

As you’d proposed the idea, your friend, always up for TikTok trends, had eagerly agreed to assist. You’d decided on arranging a double date, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, planning for you to execute the prank while she would discreetly film Quinn's reaction.

So, as you sat in a cosy, almost half-empty restaurant later that Thursday evening, the weight of your impending prank began to settle in. Excitement and nerves mingled in your chest, your fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop as you waited for the perfect moment to put your plan into action.

And finally, the moment arrived, hanging in the air with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As the waiter approached to take your orders, a surge of anxious energy coursed through you, your heart racing. Yet, with practiced ease, you smoothly transitioned into the pivotal moment. "And for my husband," you said, injecting a playful tone into your voice, "he'll have a glass of ice water and the pasta Bolognese."

The words hung in the air, a silent challenge to fate, while your best friend discreetly positioned her phone, ready to capture Quinn's genuine reaction.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Quinn's gaze shifted towards you, his expression a fleeting mix of surprise and curiosity. "Your what?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet you persisted, ignoring the amusement threatening your facade of confidence.

In that suspended moment, Quinn's initial reaction was genuine astonishment, his eyes widening in disbelief before a soft chuckle broke the tension like a gentle wave against the shore. 

And as the waiter then walked away following taking all orders, he left behind echoes of laughter. Quinn then leaned closer towards you; his tone laced with mock seriousness. "Husband, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk on his lips. "Guess I'll need to update my resume."

It hadn’t entirely been the shocked reaction you’d hoped for, yet you still found the situation undeniably amusing. Confessing the inspiration behind your jest, laughter filled the air. And as the night wore on, your little act slowly faded in the background.

However, unbeknownst to you, the innocent prank had sparked an idea in Quinn's mind.

Although he hadn’t exactly expected to consider such a significant step already at the age of 24, the notion lingered, intriguing and compelling. As the eldest among his brothers and in his most serious relationship yet, Quinn had pondered the concept for some time. He’d even briefly sought advice from his closest teammates on how to broach the subject, as he’d realised life was too short to wait for the perfect moment.

So, as he sat beside you, enveloped in shared laughter, he felt a newfound determination. With quiet resolve and a heart full of affection, he began laying the groundwork for a significant occasion, one that would hopefully change your relationship for the better.

A little over a week later, with the memory of your playful prank still fresh in his mind, Quinn found himself beyond excited and content about the idea. With determination coursing through him and a ring burning a silent promise in his pocket, he’d devised a plan.

His aim was to catch you off guard, to make the moment as unexpected as possible. And having noticed how you had emphasised the prank was nothing but a joke, he guessed your mind hadn’t dwelled on such matters. Which made it the perfect opportunity.

So, returning to the very same restaurant Saturday evening where the idea had originated, Quinn carefully arranged the setting for the action. Despite the absence of a best friend discreetly recording the scene, the familiar ambiance of the restaurant's softly lit interior and the intimate corner table added a serene touch to the occasion. So with a steady hand and a heart brimming with love, Quinn recreated the scene.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, he took a deep breath, and with a voice filled with emotion, he echoed your words from days prior, "And for my wife, she'll have a glass of Champagne along with some water and the cheese, spinach ravioli, please."

Your eyes widened a little in slight disbelief as the words lingered in the air, blending with the gentle buzz of conversation around you, and a chuckle escaped your lips of amusement at Quinn's unexpected play. You simply couldn’t help but laugh at the joke and how he replicated your playful tease from the other night with such precision.

“Wife, huh?” You chuckled lightly. “Guess I deserved that one - though I do enjoy the sound of it.”

However, this time, it wasn't a prank. As the waiter departed, leaving behind a soft smile, your eyes met with Quinn’s, flashing him an entertained smile. Yet there was a seriousness in your boyfriend’s expression, a rare sight outside of the intensity of a hockey match, and a curious furrow creased your brow as you couldn’t decipher his thoughts. But before you could ask him what was on his mind, Quinn gently rose from his seat, moving with deliberate grace to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you say that ‘cause…”

You shifted in your seat to face him, the air crackled with anticipation as he then slowly dropped to one knee, the world around you fading into insignificance, leaving only the man you loved, poised before you with a vulnerability that stole your breath away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Quinn gently took out the little velvet box from his pocket, his brown eyes shining with an intensity that mirrored his deep emotions. 

“Y/n," he softly began. "I know you said it as a joke the other night, but... truth be told, it stuck with me. And I realised that… I do want to be your called husband. You mean everything to me. Without you, I'd be lost – even though I don't tell you enough, you make my every day brighter. I can't even begin to thank you enough for your endless support, for putting up with me and my career every single day. You never ask for anything, and yet you give so much love. I love you so so much, and I just can't imagine a future without you in it..."

With every heartfelt confession, your breath hitched in your throat, your mind swirling with the weight of his sentiments. Emotions surged within you, threatening to overflow as Quinn exposed his soul, sharing his fears and dreams for your future together.

And then came the question, hanging in the air like a fragile promise—a question that held the power to shape your lives forever.

"Y/n, will you marry me?"

It felt surreal, like a dream woven from the threads of your deepest desires and fondest hopes. Quinn on his knee before you, his vulnerability a testament to the depth of his love. And in that moment, tears glistening in your eyes, and a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, there was only one right answer.

Though struggling to find the words, you willed your lips to move and your throat to vocalise the response.

"Yes... Quinn, of course," you replied with excitement, the sound of soft applauses rippling through the restaurant. And with a deep relieved sigh, and a satisfied smile illuminating his face, Quinn rose from his kneeling position, meeting you in a deep, heartfelt kiss. 

Sealing the engagement your lips met with nothing but devotion, the world around you slowly dissolving, before breaking apart. Quinn's excitement was nothing short of palpable, his smile radiant as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, and he couldn’t deny that this felt better than any hockey match win. Perhaps besides winning the Stanley Cup. 

It was truly a beautiful ring. The diamond's shimmer mirrored the twinkle in his eyes as you admired the ring's delicate intricacies. And with a content smile, you shared another quick kiss before Quinn returned to his seat, and the waiter poured champagne to mark the occasion.

Raising your glasses in a toast, you again sealed the engagement with a clink, the bubbles dancing against your lips like promises of a future filled with love and joy. This moment was everything you had ever dreamed of. Though it had begun with a playful joke, it perfectly captured the essence of your relationship—full of laughter, love, and shared moments of joy.

And with your hands gently intertwined on the table, both admiring the new addition to your finger, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like I really do need to update my resume," you playfully remarked, echoing Quinn's words from the other night.

And in response, your fiancé merely chuckled, his eyes brimming with adoration as he kissed your hand and held your gaze with unwavering affection. "Yes, I suppose you’ll have to," he smiled, his voice filled with promise and a love that knew no bounds.

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #nhl imagine

[entishramblings]

Haunting Me

[Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO

Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.

Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.

(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.

Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.

(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.

Nêl (Three).

Tâd (Two).

Mîn (One).

He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.

With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.

As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.

As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.

When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.

“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.

“What is it you speak of?”

“You nearly put an arrow in me!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”

She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”

“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”

The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.

(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”

The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”

“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“

Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”

With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.

As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.

….

The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.

As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.

At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).

She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.

Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.

They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.

Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.

Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.

When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.

Still, there was no response.

After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.

Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.

The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.

It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.

The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.

He immediately sighed in dismay.

The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.

Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.

At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.

Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.

(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.

He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.

(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.

"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"

The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”

She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.

(Y/N) only grunted in response.

He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”

“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”

“Legolas,” she tried again.

He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“

“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“

“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.

An awkward silence settled into the dark room.

“You are in pain,” he stated.

“I’m fine.”

His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.

“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”

“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”

“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.

“Why?!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”

“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.

He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”

(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.

“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”

A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”

“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”

He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”

She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”

“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.

She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”

“So?”

“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.

He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”

“Others have gotten so for far less!”

Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”

She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.

Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”

“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”

He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”

“Legolas–”

He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”

With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.

She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”

Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Come,” he repeated.

Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.

“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.

She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”

With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.

A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.

A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.

Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.

Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”

“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.

She nodded, accepting his promise.

“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”

With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.

Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”

She simply hummed in response.

The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.

“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.

“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.

She nodded in understanding.

“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”

The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.

Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.

It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.

The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.

The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.

Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.

Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.

She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.

Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”

As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”

He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.

Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”

The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”

The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”

She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”

(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”

Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”

At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”

She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.

His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”

The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“Because you too have been haunting me.”

Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.

Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."

She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”

He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”

She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.

A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.

“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”

He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”

…

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Legolas Tag: in the comments

#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas #Legolas fic #Legolas fanfic #Legolas fanfiction #Legolas x reader #legolas/reader #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf #legolas drabble #Legolas imagine #legolas fics

[youtellmeman]

Hello ma’am 😈 I am here to request 😈 I’m thinking neteyam and reader are like enemies😡 they do not like each other okay but somewhere somehow they accidentally perform tsaheylu with each other and then they bang 😦

Yuh first request done-zo I really enjoyed writing this so i hope you like it.

Neteyam Sully x Fem!Na'vi!reader

Rated R

includes- smut, ma as a pet name, baby as a pet name, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, fem genitailia, accidental tsaheylu

In this tsaheylu is only explicitly erotic the first time around and it can be used to simply better understand what your mate is thinking/feeling.

Na'vi word translations

tiwan- love, wiya- damn, tewng- loincloth, knalu- fuck, Uvang- damn, skxwang- moron,imu’ta- bitch

italics= spoken in na'vi

Hating Neteyam, had been easy. After all it was all you'd ever known when it came to the blue boy. You’d always seen him as so, so irritating.

He always thought he knew better, better than his siblings, better than the other kids in the village, and better than you. That being eldest son to the Olo’eyktan made him so much smarter than those his age and unfortunately it seemed that trait would follow him to his grave as even now, after being accepted into the clan as an adult,he held himself to be so all knowing.

“What are you doing out here?” the voice came from behind you, his voice. “This area of the forest is dangerous, you should have someone with you.”

“Why, because I am incapable of taking care of myself?” It's a loaded question,but you can't help the way he is so quick to get under your skin. Whipping around to meet his citron eyes, raising a brow when you hear him scoff to himself.

“Why must you make everything into conflict?”

“Why must you be an imu’ta who refuses to let me live in peace.” I bite back and the air between us grows tense, eyes boring into eachothers waiting for one of us to break.

“Damn it, you are so difficult for what? I am simply looking out for you, it is dangerous, we both know this.” he huffs angrily out his nose and his tail thumbs against the ground with his growing anger.

“Have you considered that perhaps I don’t need anyone looking out for me? Especially not you, now leave me be and let me hunt in peace.” You roll your eyes and without waiting for a  response you start to walk. Slinging your bow over your shoulder as you search for a new, quiet place to hunt.

“How dare you turn your back to me!” You can hear his steps speeding up after you resulting in your pace speeding as well until he manages to catch you. His slender fingers wrapping around your wrist spinning you face him. “You dare disrespect the future-”

“Future! You said it yourself!” You cut him off hissing the words at him angrily, “You hold no authority over me Neteyam so cease this useless display of power. Power that you do not have.” You spit. And maybe if you’d been less focused on the current shouting match you were having you would’ve noticed the small hand wrapping around your queue.

“Regardless of whatever you may think I am owed respect!” He snarls back and before you can you feel a sudden rush through your system, something so new yet familiar and immediately your eyes leave Neteyams face to focus on finding what's caused this surge of energy and what you can only describe as feeling. You find it immediately, honing in the little blue hand wrapped around your queue, your queue that was currently connected to, to…

“Tuktirey!” It's Neteyams voice that cuts through the silence though you can barely hear him,you can barely hear him with the wave of shock that flows through your body clogging your ears like water.

 You can tell he's scolding her for a minute or two before she's shooed away, leaving you two alone still connected and you can feel it starting to ebb its way to the surface, the lust. Pupils blown wide as you find Neteyams eyes once more.

You can't find the words to ask why in the world Tuk would think that it’d be okay to connecther brother and yourself. All you can do is search his face and body for any sign he’s feeling what you are, and boy do you find it. Whether it be the rapid rise and fall of his chest or the tent in his tewng growing by the second. 

Opening your mouth trying to find the words but you fail once more, or really you're cut off by the feeling of lips against yours as his hand finds its way to the base of your neck holding you close while the other pulls you in by the waist. And as his hips slot themselves so perfectly against yours you try to find some sliver of restraint, a tiny ounce of strength that will let you rip yourself away from him. You come up empty handed.

Hands finding their way to his hair pulling at the roots as you press him closer, pulling a heavenly groan from his lips.You find yourself pulling him back with you until your back meets tree, pulling back for a ragged breath. 

“Holy mother.” You huff out in between breaths, Neteyam on the other hand has let his mouth wander from your jaw to neck, sucking dark purple marks onto the sensitive skin about your collar bone intermittently letting his fangs drag against the new purple markings, before coming back up.  Neteyam kisses like he wants to consume you completely, it's a mess of teeth and spit as you both battle for dominance, it’s when he bites at your bottom lip that you give up  on grasping at the reins letting him take complete control.

As your mouths clash Neteyam gets busy with his hands pulling the knot at the side of your loincloth before hoisting one of your legs up into his hip. Letting the arm that's not holding your leg slide between your bodies, finger sliding down your slick dampened lips, moving between tracing around your clit to moving downward to tease at your fluttering entrance. He does this a few times before you grow tired of his teasing. Pulling back to let your head rest on the bark of the tree.

“Quit it and do something, or are you just as incapable of pleasing a woman as you are at leaving me alo- ohh!” A surprised moan escapes your lips before you can finish the taunt.

“Wiya, you talk a lot.” The smug look that covers his face would have you rolling your eyes if you weren’t so focused on trying to keep them open enough to see anything at all. The annoying bastard had slipped in a finger while you were mouthing off, curling it to hit that spongy sweet spot within while letting his thumb rub lazy circles on your bud. “If I knew all it’d take to shut you up would be to stick a finger in you I woulda done it long ago.” He’s the one taunting now.

“Shut up you skxwang- hah- For you to think I would’ve ever let you touch me like this before. You clearly don’t know everything you claim.” You bite back best you can, and while you know your words hardly have any merit while you’re literally humping the palm of his land looking for more.

“Such a smart fucking mouth, lets see how that changes after I have you cumming around my fingers, hmm?” He leans close while growling out his retort, sliding in another finger as he speaks. And god, it should be criminal that it's him making you feel so incredibly good.

“Fuck Neteyam.” You whimper out and his fingers speed up their unrelenting attack, consistently hitting that sweet spot and thumb moving so quickly against that bundle of nerves it has your knees ready to buckle. “Shit, I-I need more.” You're whining against his neck now, head resting against his shoulder as he continues his assault and you can feel his chest rumble with the groan that leaves his lips.

“You want my cock baby? You want it real bad?” You can only imagine the pride on his face , but none of that matters right now, not when you really really do. So all you can do is nod as moans and groans slip from your lips at the thought.

“No, need to hear you say it. You had so much to say earlier ma , what happened?” It’s the smugness in his voice that leads you to fight against what he wants from you.

“Fuck you.” It’s practically a pant as you pull your head back from the crevice of his neck and rest it against the tree that has you sandwiched between Neteyam. Peering at him from your lidded eyes.

“Tsk tsk, not what I asked for.” He shakes his head and the small grin he wears is nothing but predatory. “You want to cum by my hands, you're gonna do what I say.  " The pace he's picked up at the point is unforgiving, his fingers barely even thrust the tips simply rubbing against your most sensitive spot in a way that has you seeing stars and you can feel the coil in your stomach growing dangerously taut. But it's like he can see it on your face that you're growing close, and unfortunately he stands true to his words because as soon as you feel yourself about to teeter over the edge he stops. Leaving you withering against him.

“Nete-” 

“Say it.” There's no room for negotiation in his tone, “Say it or you don’t get to cum and if you dont cum on my fingers first you sure as hell aren't getting my cock.” 

It's almost pathetic how quick your resolve crumbles.

“I want you, please. Neteyam I want you please.”

“Say you need it.” Now he's just being mean cause he can.

“Fucking hell, need your cock so bad Neteyam, please.” Your breathing is ragged as you practically beg and he can hear the aggravation behind your voice.

“Not so hard is it, Tiyawn?” He quips as his fingers start to move again, thumb finding your clit as his index and middle continue the assault on the inside. And with you being so close prior it doesn’t take nearly anytime at all before your ether again, on the edge of complete euphoria just needing one last push. Push coming in the form of the third finger that ends up slamming into you, filling you up so completely and sending you crashing into waves of ecstasy. Hands finding his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks in the blade of it as you ride your orgasm. Neteyam helps you through it, paying attention to your complete reaction while his fingered pump inside of you. 

Sliding out once he's sure you’ve enjoyed the best of it,dropping your hip to your side, giving you one more openmouthed kiss before spinning you around leaving you to brace yourself on the tree that was once digging into your back. His hand finds the small of your back pushing you to be bent, arching subconsciously, readying yourself for what's to come.

You look over your shoulder just in time to see him rip the string of his tewng in a rush to move it out the way, letting his length spring up and hit his stomach.

To say that Neteyam was well endowed would be an understatement, youd heard rumors before but holy mother they didn’t do him justice. He made eye contact with you as he grabbed himself by the base getting ready to line himself up with your core.

“Like what you see?” And of course he’s cocky about this too. Neteyam raises a playful eyebrow.

“Thought you'd be bigger.” It's a lie, but you can't let his ego go unchecked. Though it doesn't seem too much as he simply sucks his teeth in response, letting a toothy grin spread across his face.

“Mhm, that’s why I can see you clenching at the sight of it then?” He retorts, still smiling as he moves, letting his tip slide between your lips, catching at your entrance. A move that has both of you shuddering in anticipation.

“Neteyam!” you whine out tired of waiting, pushing your ass back with a wiggle in anticipation and to hopefully get him to act sooner.

“Fuck, yeah okay i'm coming.” You can hear him mutter behind you. Properly lining himself this time before pushing in slowly, the girth of his head alone has you gasping for air. He’s slow to work himself in, not wanting to let his desperation for release lead to you being hurt. Eventually however he does bottom out and once he does the both of you let out sighs of relief. He gives you a moment to adjust before beginning to move, pulling back to grind back into you. 

Usually this soft caring pace would leave you purring, but this is Neteyam and the fact that he just spent his time finger fucking you so good you see stars just to treat you like glass has you grinding your teeth in want for more.

“More.” You demand throwing a lust filled glare over your shoulder.

“Uvang, you feel so tight around me.” You're not even sure Neteyam heard you, his brows are pulled together and eyes scrunched in pleasure. 

“Knalu Neteyam, harder!” You snap, punctuating your sentence by pushing back onto his cock which seems to break his trance. 

“Eywa, why can't you let me enjoy this in peace?” His nostrils flare and eyes snap open boring into your own. Leaning forward he braces holds you by your shoulders. Sliding out till only his head is left inside of you before slamming back into you with enough strength to bruise. Switching from his heart shatteringly slow movement to thrusts that could shake Pandora itself. Thrusts that leave you gasping for air that's being knocked out of your lungs with every slam of his hips into yours. 

“Oh Eywa! Neteyam fuck, yes!”  Your moans are practically prayers as they fill the air around you, Not that he's being any quieter than you are. Moaning and groaning as he leans down to press wet kisses to your spine.

“Shit you feel so good Ma, fucking hell. Its like you were made to be wrapped around my cock, my perfect fucking pussy for the taking ain’t that right. ‘M gonna ruin you baby, mold this cunt to my cock. No one else could make you feel this good right Ma, c'mon tell me i'm right.” It’s hard to make out most of his rambles as he ruts into you like something feral, but you manage nonetheless.

“Fuck,  yes Neteyam no one’s as good as you. No one could make me feel- oh my- feel half as good as you, shit!” You say back telling him whatever he wants to hear, telling him the truth. And it has him speeding up at which point you thought was impossible as he continues to ramble on and on about how good you feel around him against the skin of your back. One of his hands manage to find their way around your waist and to your clit, rubbing tight circles while his noises grow more animalistic by the minute and it has you fluttering around him causing him to twitch within you. The both of your peaks growing increasingly closer. 

“I'm gonna cum, Net, fuck dont stop!” you warn him of your upcoming release and you can feel the way the knowledge fuels him, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he drills into you with fervor. 

“Cum for me tiwan, wanna feel you cum around me, cmon.” He urges you on and soon enough it comes. Surginging through you like electricity, punctuated by a high pitched whine as your legs tremble. Neteyam fucking you through it fighting to hold off his own upcoming orgasm in lew of making sure you can enjoy yours to the fullest and soon enough you start to come down, the way you clench becoming softer and more spaced out as you begin to take deep breaths in order to ground yourself. 

It only takes a few more pumps before the euphoria is hitting him like a splash of cold water and he’s quick to pull out and spill his seed on the curve of your ass and back, groaning your name slowly as he works his way through it.

Eventually you both restore enough air in your lungs to disconnect yourselves and get cleaned up. Finding a small and unoccupied pond to wash his essence of yourself along with the sweat you'd worked up along the way before slipping your clothes back on and helping him repair the string of his loincloth well enough that it would not fall off on his trek through the village. 

Still once you're both clothed you both take a few moments to be together and fully grasp the fact of what this connection means for the both of you. It's then that you finally find the words you’d lost earlier.

“Why did tuk do it? Why did she connect us?” You ask, your eyes finding his in confusion.

“Our parents.” He starts, “ Sometimes they fight and sometimes when they do they perform tsaheylu. In order to better understand what the other is feeling. She thought it would help us ‘get along’” he finishes explaining and you can't help but laugh at the childlike innocence of it all.

“How sweet in theory I suppose.” You smile up at him stifling a few laughs.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Remind me to thank her when we get back.” At that you roll your eyes and smack him in the shoulder. “Hey!”

——————

Let me know what you think

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[tellerluna-stories]

veneration.

PAIRING: scaramouche x reader

GENRE: canon-compliant. belligerent romantic tension, flirting but not quite flirting, the trope of helping the other get ready for an important event.

TW/CW: slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (although it was literally revealed in the livestream so idk if it counts as spoilers).

A/N: boo, I'm alive (sort of.) I can't believe I'm writing for emo pinocchio, much less simping for him (yes, @x-zho and @byeol-ssi you read that correctly),,,, but HEY IF THIS DRABBLE GETS ME OUTTA BURNOUT DEPRESSION Y NAT COCONUT

"How fares your one follower, Lord Harbinger?"

The Balladeer pauses in the middle of what he's doing, a tangle of energy tubes falling around his ankles like an undignified noodle dish. Your voice is carefully, perfectly even, your eyes steadily fixed on your book as if nothing was the matter.

"Haypasia? Well, she's the first of many to come, so of course she is someone of great prestige in my eyes."

He enjoys the faint flicker in your eyes, choking back a taunting smile as your grip tightens on your book. To say that he held affection for you would be staunchly denied, but there was nothing Scaramouche delighted in more than to wear your nerves out.

"As she should be. Never forget the service she has done you, sir."

"And what of the service you owe me?" He retorts. "I don't recall summoning you here just so you could sit and recite pretty words to me while I do all the work."

An exasperated sigh and a slight rustle as you get up from your chair, followed by the echoing sound of your footsteps as you began climbing the stairs to the head of his soon-to-be divine vessel. "I had assumed that you wouldn't want my assistance until I was called for."

"I'm sure Haypasia would have willingly volunteered to assist me." Scaramouche remarks idly, tracing a finger along the polished metal. "When it comes to loyalty to me, I'm sure that that girl is second to none."

Silence, just as expected. Your face is pristinely neutral when you reach the top of the stairs and place the book on the floor, but he knows better; he knows how the blood surges in your veins in not-quite-jealousy, how the air catches in your throat at the thought of someone being better devoted to him.

Up until now, the Balladeer had had a hard time finding an edge over your nonchalant nature, with any sharp jabs left blithely ignored or rebutted, with no room for nonsense— for out of all the people who dared test their bravery by working with him, you were one of the few who had remained mostly unaffected by his short temper.

But with a certain researcher in the equation, it seems that he had a new — and most entertaining — way to push your buttons.

"You shouldn't have tangled up the tethers like this, sir." You kneel down to untangle the mess of cables at his already-tethered feet, your hair falling forward to conceal your face. "The Doctor would not be pleased if something were to malfunction tomorrow due to something as minor as this."

He stands stock-still as your hands trace along the length of his arm, searching for where to attach the cables to his wrists and shoulders, your fingertips brushing against his back as you check for any loosened tethers; to an outsider, it would seem that you were merely performing the duties of a faithful assistant. But every move and word was choreographed, designed to bring out your true intentions under the guise of professionalism.

"Tell me," The Balladeer asks, a taunting lilt to his voice. "What sort of book are you reading that distracts you from my glory?"

"Just something I picked up in the Grand Bazaar." You reply, and soft hands brush against the sides of his neck, reaching to safely tether him to his vessel. "A book of short essays and poetry, written by some obscure but well-read author."

"What sort of poetry?" Scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on yours, pretending to be unaffected by the way your arms enclosed the air around him, the close proximity between the two of you. The fun part of the game was to never reveal your hand of cards, after all.

"The usual; some about life, or loss. The seasons, and some about places the author had been to." Your eyes briefly flicker to meet his. "Love poems, too."

He cannot help but smirk, knowing full well at what you were playing at; the two of you had an unspoken agreement, a mutual push and pull as you aimed to tear each other's heartstrings out and have the other dancing in the palm of their hand. "Care to recite one, then? I'd like to see if you can actually spew pleasant words for once."

"If that is what the Lord Harbinger wishes," was your response, your gaze drifting away to focus on adjusting the tethers on his hands and wrists one last time. "There is one piece that I particularly enjoy; allow me to retrieve my book so that I may read that to you."

You were clever— he had to admit as much. This very well could have been your plan all along, to grab his attention with a book that you were certain would make an impression on him; he would not put it past you to have made such a bold plan.

But since the Balladeer was soon to achieve his lifelong goal, he was feeling generous tonight— he would indulge your little schemes for today, just this once.

"Ah, here it is." You straighten up, the pages rustling as you flip to the correct page. "This essay is rather long, but this particular excerpt is my favourite."

Scaramouche watches as you begin to pace back and forth aimlessly, your lips parting to take a deep breath in preparation... and he waits. He waits for the next move in the chess game, for his turn to come.

"Look up to the stars, and remember the light in my eyes." One finger traces idly along the page, your eyes following it intently as if to bore a hole through the paper. "Look to the east, the rosy dawn, and think of my lips, sweetened with the honey of memories with you."

"But furthermore, evermore, I beg of you, my darling..." Your feet shift to wander towards him, stepping closer and closer till you were only a few paces away from where he stood.

"...Look at me and only me forevermore." You recited, tilting his head upwards with the edge of your book, your warm breath fanning his cheeks as you leaned ever-closer. "Are these the sort of words you'd like to hear from me, Lord Harbinger?"

"Hah." A chuckle escapes his mouth before he can stop himself— really, truly, this was all too entertaining! "That all depends on what I am to you."

"What I am to you is the same as what you are to me." For the first time that evening you smiled, a mirror of the same smile he had now; the air of both challenge and taunt hidden behind the guise of a pleasant expression. "I wish you good luck on your promotion tomorrow, Lord Harbinger."

#tellerluna.tales #tellerluna.rkive: genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin ​scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gn reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #kunikuzushi #kunukuzushi x reader #kunukuzushi fluff #wanderer #wanderer genshin impact

[catmelonwriting]

Sucking off big brother!Fyodor

Warnings: Incest, this is written terribly, toxic!Fyodor, fem reader

Characters: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translations: малышка = little girl

A/N: idk I have so many prompts I'm supposed to be writing and want to be writing but I just don't jave the energy I'm hoping this will wet my appetite or wtv

You lay lazily on the bed half asleep, It was mid July, and the heat was making you drowsy. You were supposed to be reading due to your brothets orders, but gave up & into your fatigue, resting on your bed in your day clothes, not even bothering to change. You were suddenly startled awake by a scoff and Fyodor speaking. "Clean up this room, малышка. It's disgusting in here."

His voice was degrading and he stared down at you with a glare. Your room wasn't even that bad! Just some clothes lying around, but to be fair.. he did own the house. "I don't wanna..." You groan, your voice was raspy. Your eyes flutter open to Fyodor standing directly above you, his hand resting on your bed frame.

"You don't have a choice, малышка." Fyodor smirked, knowing how much you hated being called that. It made you feel small, and weak, but no matter how much you told him you hated it, he kept going. "Clean up now, or I will make you regret it."

"Make me regret it if you're so tough, then." You grin, sitting up and crossing your legs, placing your elbow on your knee and your cheek in the palm of your hand. "If you don't clean this room within the hour, you'll be doing something much more unpleasant."

His eyes narrowed and you grin. "Awh, tell me, exactly what will I be doing?" You'd always had an attraction towards him, and he's known. You'd expect him to be disgusted by it, but.. "You'll be sucking my cock until I'm satisfied, малышка." He said casually, as if it were nothing. "And trust me, I won't be gentle about it."

Your stomach flutters, and despite the disgust and fear you felt.. you couldn't help the arousal that dripped from your hole. You needed to appear confident, and unbothered. You hated Fyodor seeing you as weak. "Aw, well maybe I'd prefer that." You grin, dropping to your knees in front of him.

Fyodor raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden change in attitude. He stepped closer, allowing you access to his pants. As you undid his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his hard cock, he couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal. He grabbed your hair, guiding her head towards his member.

All you could do was giggle, giving a tiny little kitten lick to the tip of his dick, dragging out a hitched breath from him. You do nothing more for a minute, only kissing and licking the tip, before he grew impatient.

He huffs, before he yanks your head back by her hair, forcing you to take him in. You gagged as he filled your mouth, the pain causing small tears to well up in your eyes that you immediately blink away. He began thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth roughly, enjoying the sensation of the warm wetness of your mouth enveloping him.

You moaned onto his dick, licking a fat strip up the bottom of his shaft as he face fucked you, letting the tears fall only because you knew how much he loved reducing you to a crying mess.

"Ah.. you're so good at this, myshka. Keep going, go on." He groans, drawing your attention up to him, he loved how pathetic you looked down on the floor, tears falling from your eyes, ruining your mascara. As his climax neared, you felt his thrusts get sloppier and harder till his hot cum filled your mouth.

He pulls out, tapping your mouth so you stick your tongue out. Proof you swallowed, of course. "Good girl.." he drawls out, looking at you with that sadistic smile he always has. "Now, I guess I should repay the favor now, hm?" He smiles, crouching down in front of you.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dostoyevsky fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor smut #fyodor x reader smut #incest smut #fyodor x reader incest

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 22)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

Unable to resist such temptation, you pulled these envelopes out and quickly scanned through their content. Each letter was at least two pages long, hand-written in a beautiful, precise script that you recognized as belonging to Tommy himself.

These letters spanned over months, detailing unspeakable fantasies and admissions of a kind you never imagined him to be capable of expressing.

Tommy's usual cold facade gave way to a longing and vulnerability that struck you deeply as he wrote that he believed he could spend the rest of his life with you, had it not been for the blood they shared. He revealed he often wished to be close to you, but never quite dared to cross that boundary again, held back by the family's needs. 

It seemed as though Tommy's thoughts often wandered back to you, even after all this time, grappling with the same questions of affection that had haunted you after you had left for Boston. 

A single tear slipped down your cheek as you finally understood the depth of pain that remained between you two after you had separated from one another and just as you folded the letters back up, one by one, you were caught by Tommy himself as he entered his office, looking for you. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, voice like a whip cracking through the tense atmosphere.

The surprise in his eyes, coupled with the anger, said it all and, as you mustered up the courage to confront him, you held the letters out to him, still trembling in your hands.

"I wanted to find some writing paper and I stumbled upon these. I didn't mean to snoop, but...," you began to plead earnestly, trying to explain yourself in the midst of your shame and guilt. "I saw that they were addressed to me and you never sent them, so I just. . . I got curious."

Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you tried to gauge Tommy's reaction and, as you did, you could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Why didn't you send them?" you then whispered softly, unable to contain your burning curiosity.

"I didn't see the point," Tommy admitted bluntly, snatching the letters out of your hand and tossing them carelessly onto his desk.

"Why not?" you pressed on, eager to understand the reason behind his decision to keep these heartfelt confessions from you.

Tommy paused for a moment, staring at you with an intensity that took your breath away. He looked as if he was wrestling with his own thoughts, whether to tell you the truth or not.

"Because I knew that I could never have you," he said finally, reluctance heavy in his voice.

Tommy's admission left you stunned, and your eyes widened in shock at the raw honesty in his words.

"I was foolish to imagine that we could ever be together," he continued, his voice hoarse as he struggled to conceal his pain.

You stared back at him, unsure of how to respond and, instead of using words, you allowed your actions to speak.

Taking a step forward, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You then rested your head against his shoulder, sighing deeply before pressing your lips gently against the soft cotton of his shirt.

"I missed you, Tommy," you whispered softly while Tommy remained still and silent, struggling with the emotions swirling wildly within him before reaching out tentatively to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I missed you too," he eventually confessed, his voice barely audible as sighed deeply, wondering how to move forward from this moment. 

"Please, don't pull away from me. Not again," you pleaded, feeling Tommy's muscles tense under your fingertips.

You were acutely aware of the pressure building between you, and the sexual energy surging through your veins as his hands moved from your hair to your lower back, pulling you closer still until you could feel the rigid contours of his body pressed firmly against yours.

"Y/N," Tommy gasped, trying to distance himself once more but you would not let him this time. 

Unable to resist him any longer, you let your hands trail up from his waist to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beating beneath your fingertips. With each passing moment, the attraction between you grew more potent, as intense as ever before.

So much so, that, when Tommy’s fingers trailed lower to grasp the curve of your backside, it was all you could do to stifle the jolt of pleasure that shot straight to your core. Your breath hitched in your throat, body trembling as you fought to maintain some semblance of control.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you tipped your head back, granting Tommy access to that tender vulnerability that he craved.

His skin met yours with a promise that tingled in every nerve ending, igniting a fire within you, burning for answers only Tommy could provide all while your fingers clutched desperately at the fabric of his shirt.

Then finally, Tommy cupped your face within his sizable palms, thumbing away the tears that cascaded down your flushed cheeks without warning before dipping his head to claim your mouth with the very same ferocity that he waged war with the world outside.

Feeling his lips on yours again brought back memories which you tried to forget but never could. You grazed his bottom lip gently, coaxing him to deepen the kiss with a subtle circles of your tongue around the corners of his mouth until he relented.

A familiar moan escaped your lips as Tommy consumed you whole.

Your tongues intertwined, exploring fervently, tasting the bitter tang of tobacco on his lips with a hunger that couldn't be quenched.

Lost in the passionate whirlwind of fervent lips and tangled tongues, you managed to forget where you were and whom you were with, even if only for a brief moment and, before you even knew what had hit you, Tommy's hands had made quick work of unbuttoning your blouse.

"We shouldn't," you murmured feebly, although the catch in your voice betrayed how much you truly meant those words.

"No, probably not," Tommy agreed as his fingers traveled lightly over the expanse of your chest, curling around the slim strap of your bra before pulling it down seductively, revealing the soft mound of your breast.

You inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sensation flooding through your body as his fingers circled your nipple, teasing it into a tight, sensitive peak.

"But, fuck, Y/N. I need you, and I think you need me just as much, eh," he groaned, burying his face in your neck as you tilt your head back, granting him further access to the expanse of your exposed skin.

His breath tickled the sensitive spot beneath your ear, inciting another shudder to ripple through you as you tugged on his suit jacket, wanting him to take it off.

As if on autopilot, Tommy obliged, shrugging his jacket off before tossing it carelessly aside. He then took off his gun holster , never letting his gaze waver from your own.

His mere presence demanded attention in every room he entered, and it was no different now. In fact, the anticipation of what was to come was almost as tantalizing as the act itself, toying with every nerve ending in your body.

His fingers brushed against yours as you both worked to unfasten his belt while, at the same time, he pushed you backwards gently, causing your back to make contact with his large study desk.

Shifting your body, you hoisted yourself upwards, allowing you to sit on the cold cedar. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you did, revealing more of your bare leg for him to admire.

You then reached beneath your skirt , gently tugging at the hem of your panties, helping him remove them with ease as he leaned over the desk, bracing himself against it.

"I need you inside me right now, Tommy," you panted, breath hitching in anticipation as you locked gazes with him, urging him on as he stepped in between your welcoming legs.

"Patience has never been your strong point Love," Tommy chuckled as a thrill of pleasure pulsed through you when you felt his fingers graze along your inner thighs, the weight of your anticipation pushing down heavily upon you. There was no other sound except the counting of your own shallow breaths as he trailed slow and delicate kisses along your neckline, eliciting shivers that started to tremble up from your very soul.

Pushing down his trousers and undergarments in one swift motion, Tommy revealed his arousal to you, hard and throbbing.

Aroused by the sight, your hands moved towards his length and Tommy paused momentarily, staring deep into your eyes, searching for any lingering doubt or apprehension. Finding none, his movements became urgent, filling a longing need deep within both of you as he aligned himself with your entrance.

With one fluid motion, Tommy thrust into you, filling you completely. You gasped, the sharp intake of breath echoing throughout the quiet room. The feel of him, hot and aching, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you as your fingers dug into his muscular back.

The sweet sensation of him moving inside you, filling you, was almost overwhelming. Desire coursed through your veins, demanding you surrender to everything this moment promised. Your bodies melded together, so perfectly attuned to every shift and twitch, as though fate itself had conspired to unite you.

"Y/N, look at me," Tommy whispered hoarsely, the gravelly tone of desire nearly muffling his plea. His face, etched with deep lines and shadows characteristic of a man who had endured so much torment in his life, appeared almost like a stranger's.

But his eyes, the same shade of blue you remembered so vividly, they bore into yours, delivering waves of emotion that quickly overpowered the rational part of your mind.

"I love you," Tommy confessed, thrusting harder as each charged word left his lips, chasing away the old ghosts, if only for a brief instant.

"I love  you too Tommy," you murmured against his ear, arching your back as warmth spread from the core of your being, seeping into every vein. "Oh god, don't fucking stop," you moaned, clutching at Tommy's shoulders as he rhythmically thrust into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of pure bliss. 

Perched upon the solid, polished oak desk, your limbs trembled as you tightened your grip around his shoulders. 

"I am so close ," you whimpered wantonly, a curse coiling within your throat as you surrendered to the rising tide of pleasure ebbing through every nerve.

Your knees clenched around his waist, pulling him deeper into your warmth. His ragged breaths became ardent moans resonating throughout the room, igniting an electric impulse of ecstasy as the tempo escalated between you before, suddenly and without warning, your husband 's voice pierced through the sound of your intoxicated gasps.

"What the bloody hell," Robert gasped loudly, unable to actually form a coherent sentence as he stood stock still, mouth agape. Shock and disgust painted themselves across his face as he took in the sight of what he had just witnessed. 

"Jesus, fucking Christ!" Tommy barked, releasing a string of curses as he quickly untangled himself from you, frantically grabbing his clothes in an attempt to shield whatever modesty remained after the carnal exchange. Stumbling blindly, he made his way around the opposite side of the large desk where Robert still stood, in utter disbelief while you fumbled with your skirt and blouse to cover up your nakedness. 

"Robert," you managed to splutter out, grasping for words and finding none as the realization of what he had just walked in on was like a bucket of icy water coldly splashing onto Robert's features. "This is not what it looks like," you quickly attempted to say, but the evidence of your indiscretion was undeniable, served up on a silver platter for Robert's eyes to feast upon.

The discomfort between those present was palpable now, exacerbated by Tommy's reluctance to cover himself fully in front of Robert. His shirt, still unbuttoned, hung open to reveal the honed lines of his torso and, although he had succeeded in hiding his arousal, Tommy's face still contained traces of unquenched desire.

Robert's gaze flickered back and forth between you and Tommy, barely managing to conceal his revulsion at the thought of you cheating on him with your very own uncle and, then suddenly, he spoke up.

"You are fucking disgusting, both of you!" he spat, eyes flashing with anger and confusion. "You fucking Gypsies," he muttered derisively, shaking his head from side to side in utter disbelief. Disgust coated his lips like poison as   he sneered down his nose at you, unable to grasp the extent of the twisted affair that had unfolded before him. "This," he pointed accusingly toward you and Tommy, "is a disgrace and, I have no doubt that your wife and your political acquaintances will want to hear about your sick little affair with your niece," Robert then said, pointing his finger at Tommy who stood there, silently until now, assessing the situation. 

"Are you fucking threatening me?" Tommy  narrowed his eyes, placing his hands firmly on the desk, on either side of him.

His calm demeanor belied the rage building within. The thought that Robert believed he could strong-arm him into submission was laughable, but he wasn't in the mood for laughing.

"Perhaps I am," Robert said , attempting to stand his ground, but visibly trembling as Tommy's towering figure stood dangerously close.

Tommy chuckled quietly, his anger lingering under the surface, and you could see the conflict in his expression – weighing the consequences of what he should do or say next.

"Don't, please," you tried to intervene as, eventually, Tommy walked towards his office door to close it before approaching Robert with a sly grin on his face.

There was no fear present in his striking features, only a silent, lethal promise.

"I see that my niece hasn't told you about me and about what I do, eh?" Tommy smirked, eyes cold as ice as he looked directly into Robert's soul. Robert's face paled, suddenly realizing the weight of his words and actions. "Because, if she had, then you wouldn't be making threats." 

Fear crept into his eyes and, although Tommy was his equal in height, Robert was no match for the powerful man that stood before him. He had witnessed the darkness that stirred within Tommy's being in that moment, and he had made a terrible mistake threatening him.

Tommy walked slowly around Robert, circling him like a predator stalking its prey.

"Now, why don't you have a seat Robert ," Tommy suggested, gesturing towards one of the leather chairs in the room. He kept his voice even, but there was an undertone of danger.

Uncertainty flickered across Robert's face and, for a heartbeat, you feared he might challenge Tommy's authority. But, ultimately, prudence prevailed and he sank cautiously into the chair.

"You see, I don't like being threatened," Tommy reiterated, his voice low and laden with menace. "And all men who have threatened me in the past are not around anymore now to carry out their threats, so I suggest you consider your next words more carefully,"  he added with a wicked glint in his eyes.

The tension in the air hung thickly as Tommy leaned in closer to Robert, towering over him. Their faces were inches apart, and you could see the fear building within Robert's eyes as he realized the sheer power that the man before him possessed.

"You can't scare me," Robert muttered , trying to maintain his composure, but his voice wavered and cracked, giving away his fear.

"Oh, I can and I will," Tommy replied confidently, pointing his finger towards Robert's face. "Even in Boston I have the resources to ruin you if you ever decide to cross me again, or speak of what you witnessed here tonight. I have men on my payroll who, even in Boston, can make you disappear and, trust me, these men have quite a reputation of not being kind when disposing of threats," Tommy cursed under his breath, his frustration taking over as the color drained from Robert's face.

Robert stared, wide-eyed as the calculated confidence behind Tommy's words penetrated his arrogant, naive mind. Tommy was no stranger to the extreme lengths he was willing to go to secure his family's safety and their empire.

After a long pause, and without taking his eyes off Robert's ghostly face, Tommy continued.

"Now, you have two options, Robert," Tommy declared. "You can either keep your mouth shut and stay alive, or you can cross me and end up in the hands of my men, who I will instruct to keep a close eye on you," Tommy said with a deadly calm that chilled everyone in the room. 

"Robert, please. I am sorry, but you need understand," you began to say , your voice barely above a whisper, trying to appeal to the sense of reason that you thought might reside somewhere within him. 

Robert stared at you, his eyes devoid of compassion. "I need to understand what?" he asked, shaking his head. "That your family is running a criminal empire and that you are involved with your uncle?"  Robert finished for you, disdain twisting his features.  "Is Edward his son?" Robert demanded, any hint of genuine concern for you tainted by bitterness, jealousy, and disgust.

You trembled under the weight of his gaze, for what could you possibly say? You yearned to tell him the truth, but a tangled web of emotions and fears held you back.

"You know what? It doesn't really matter anymore Y/N. I always had a feeling that, what your family was involved in, was not entirely legal, but this is beyond my comprehension," he finally relented, running his hands through his dark hair in disbelief.

"I'm so sorry, Robert," you whispered, feeling an immense agony swell in your chest. "I don't have a simple explanation or justification for what I have done and I know that you will never forgive me for my indiscretion, but I need you to promise me to keep quiet about it all and not utter a word to anyone about this," you begged him and Robert looked at you, as though trying to gauge your sincerity, then nodded slowly. 

"I won't say a word," he murmured then, but there was no warmth in his voice and you knew it was only a cold and strictly practical promise. 

"Good boy," Tommy replied, standing tall with an unmistakable air of superiority. "Now, I suggest you get yourself a room at the Midland and a ticket for the next plane back to Boston. I will have one of my men accompany you once you have gathered your personal belongings," Tommy said, camouflaging his relief with the usual confident facade.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction

[its-avalon-08]

Can you write a Nico Hulkenberg x Deaf Reader? press being a pain in the a****, but the fans and drivers always supporting!!

signing my way to you (nh27)

(im sorry this took so much time, based on recent requests i have been super consumed by everything)

nico hulkenberg wrestled with the steering wheel, knuckles white. the monaco grand prix was a blur – the roar of the crowd, the blur of the track – all secondary to the image that burned in his mind. y/n, his girlfriend of a year and a half, her face flushed with a mix of anger and hurt, as a reporter peppered her with condescending questions about her sign language.

it wasn't the first time. since their relationship became public, the press had transformed y/n into a caricature – the silent accessory to a racing driver. they'd mock her conversations with other drivers' girlfriends, their words dripping with a disrespect that made nico see red.

he pulled into the pits, the anger a hot coal in his chest. as he climbed out, his engineer, liam, placed a hand on his shoulder. "nico, calm down. max and lewis already tore into those reporters in the pre-race interview."

nico grunted, his gaze flickering to the monitor showing the post-race interview. max verstappen, ever the blunt one, was giving a scathing rebuttal.

"honestly, some of these reporters need to get a life. y/n is an intelligent, kind person, and frankly, none of your business. how about we focus on the actual race?"

lewis hamilton followed suit, his voice cool but firm. "max is right. y/n is a part of the f1 family, and we all respect her. perhaps you reporters could try the same."

nico felt a surge of gratitude towards his fellow drivers. charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, and daniel ricciardo all chimed in, their defenses a shield around y/n.

almost all people on the paddock had learnt basic sign language ever since y/n came. they loved her sarcastic personality and dry humor. the wags like alexandra (charles's girlfriend) was so fluent in sign language that you both used to gossip for hours on end.

later, at the team debrief, nico found y/n by the window, her back to him. he approached slowly, his heart heavy. "hey," he signed softly.

y/n turned, a small, sad smile gracing her lips. "hey yourself. rough interview session, huh?" she signed, her expression wry.

nico wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. "those reporters are a bunch of—" he stopped himself, frustration momentarily eclipsed by the need to protect her. "they don't deserve your tears, okay?"

y/n squeezed his hand. "i know. max, lewis, everyone… they were amazing."

a fierce pride swelled in nico's chest. "they wouldn't have it any other way. you're one of us, y/n."

the next day, the internet exploded. fans rallied behind y/n, showering her with messages of support. #respectY/N trended worldwide. the tide was turning. the atmosphere was different. reporters approached y/n with a newfound hesitancy. she greeted them with a polite smile, her hand resting on nico's arm, a silent statement of their unity.

the journey wouldn't be easy. but with nico, his fellow drivers, and the fans by her side, y/n wouldn't be silenced. they would rewrite the narrative, one race, one sign, at a time.

the barcelona paddock bustled with pre-race energy. y/n, hand in hand with nico, navigated the throng of fans. today was different. gone were the snickers and pointed fingers that used to follow her. instead, enthusiastic waves and shy smiles greeted them.

suddenly, a young girl, no older than eight, broke free from her parents' grasp. her gaze locked onto y/n, her eyes wide with excitement. the girl's father rushed to apologize, but y/n knelt down, a warm smile on her face.

the girl, her face flushed crimson, fumbled with her backpack, pulling out a brightly colored friendship bracelet. tentatively, she held it out to y/n, signing in broken but clear motions, "love you!"

y/n's heart melted. "thank you, sweetie!" she signed back, taking the bracelet gently. it was woven with vibrant pink and blue beads, a perfect match for the one adorning y/n's wrist.

nico chuckled, pulling out a similar bracelet from his pocket. "didn't know you were starting a trend, love."

y/n winked at him, then surprised the girl by tying the bracelet around her wrist. the girl's face broke into a joyous grin, and she launched herself into a hug around y/n's waist.

news of the interaction spread like wildfire. soon, a line of fans, young and old, gathered, each eager to exchange a bracelet with y/n and sign their message of support.

a teenage boy, clutching a slightly misshapen homemade sign that read "you inspire us, y/n!" approached, his cheeks flushed. he fumbled with his hands, finally signing, "thank you for showing us that being different is okay."

y/n squeezed his hand, her smile even wider. "thank you for showing me the power of kindness," she signed back.

a wave of warmth washed over her. this wasn't just about the bracelets; it was about a connection, a silent conversation that transcended words. it was a victory lap for inclusivity, a celebration of the human spirit.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock, y/n looked up at nico, his eyes filled with pride. her wrists were adorned with a kaleidoscope of colors, each bracelet a tiny token of appreciation.

"this is amazing," she signed, her voice thick with emotion.

nico leaned down and kissed her forehead. "they see you, y/n. you're an inspiration."

and in that moment, amidst the cheering crowds and the roar of engines, y/n knew she was finally home. the silence that once defined her had become a bridge, connecting her to the world in a way she never thought possible.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#nico hulkenberg #nh27 #nico hulkenberg x reader #nico hulkenberg x y/n #nico hulkenberg x yn #nico hulkenberg x wife!reader #nico hulkenberg x fem!reader #nh27 x y/n #nh27 x yn #nh27 xfemalereader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #y/n #haas f1 team #female f1 #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #requests #anon #ava speaks

[florencemtrash]

Wedding Invitations

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Miguel take the day to distribute wedding invitations to the Spider-Gang. But in the midst of all the congratulations they forget to tell a very important member of the wedding party...

Warnings: Fluff, Spider-Gang family dynamics, Miguel's got a touch of baby fever

Author's Note: I FINALLY got around to writing this Miguel x Reader oneshot that's been in my WIP dump for ages. This can be read on its own, or as a continuation of my Hummingbird series.

Masterlist of Masterlists

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You blinked around Spidey-HQ, buzzing with excitement and armed with a stack of cream-colored envelopes. The cards within had the following words printed in lacy gold lettering:  

Miguel O’Hara and Y/n L/n Invite you to join their wedding celebration on Saturday, October 15,  2105 at 4:30pm St. Javier’s Cathedral 115 Hammond St

You’d visited Pavitr first, finding him tucked away in an alcove on the top floors where he went about carefully oiling his hair. 

“FINALLY!” He squealed, sprinting away to wash his hands before gingerly accepting the invitation like you’d just handed him a million dollars. “You’re getting married!” He snatched one hand, then the other, splaying your fingers and searching for the ring, “Where is it? Where is it? I want to see it.”

You chuckled, “Calm down, Gollum.” You reached into your shirt, pulling out the chain where you’d been hiding the ring for the past eight months. “I don’t wear it very often. Art teacher and superhero - remember?” 

It was a shame. It was a beautiful, vintage ring originally belonging to Miguel’s mother. He’d since updated it, replacing two of the missing stones with small burgundy gems that matched the color of his eyes. Even if you couldn’t wear it often, you kept it with you at all times, resting against your heart. 

Pavitr began to vibrate with excitement, bouncing on his feet. “Can I-Can I tell-?”

“Yes, you can tell people.” 

“Really?!” He brightened up.

“Yes. Miguel’s probably already sent out a general announcement by now.”

As if on cue both your watches beeped, a red notification popping up.

Announcement:  Y/n and I are getting married. Don’t get upset if you're not invited to the ceremony. There are literally thousands of you. Reception will be at Spidey HQ atrium Saturday, October 15, 2105 at 7pm. All are welcome.

“Perfect timing.” You said, smiling at the words Y/n and I are getting married. You still couldn’t believe it, even though you’d been sitting on the knowledge in silence for the past six months.

“Oh and Pavitr. Miguel will probably ask you this again later but… would you like to be a groomsman in the wedding?” 

Pavitr’s lips trembled, then broke into the widest smile imaginable, brown eyes crinkling. He surged forward, wrapping his lanky arms around you and spinning you around.

“YES! YES! A million times yes!” He gasped. You may as well have gotten on your knees and asked for his hand in marriage. “Oh my goodness this is all I've ever wanted. What are the wedding colors? I need to get a new sherwani.” He finally let you down, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you desperately, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS SOONER?!” 

You gripped his hands, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling. Pavitr's energy was unmatched and you could feel his joy rubbing off on you.

“It’s really going to be a simple ceremony. And we didn’t want to pressure any of you with the typical wedding prep stuff.” 

He looked incredulous, “So no bachelorette party? No-no manicure days or spa days or...” 

You shook your head no and his jaw dropped.

“WRONG!” He shouted, touching the tip of your nose with his finger, “Are you free next Saturday night? Yes? Good.” He shook his finger at you, “No wedding prep stuff? Really? Pah!” He threw his hands in the air, muttering as he walked away and started dialing up Gwen and Miles.

“You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Gwen asked, mouth agape. She pushed her lunch tray to the side, the excitement chasing away her appetite for the time being.

“Fuck that. You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Miles slammed the milk carton on the table, spilling a few drops, “I thought I was your favorite.” 

“Piss off, Miles.” Gwen teased, ruffling his curls. "I'm her favorite."

“One semester abroad with Hobie and you’re already sounding like a Brit.” He teased back, never moving far enough apart from her that they weren’t touching. 

She’d recently gone for a shag haircut. The tips of her dyed hair fading into a pale bubblegum blue. The new nose piercing completed the look and Miles was smitten.

You wrung your hands together. “Well I’m telling you now! And! I’m asking you to be part of the wedding party. So what do you say? Wanna be a groomsman and a bridesmaid?”

They didn’t even look at each other before saying, “Absolutely!” In perfect unison.

The rest of the day went similarly, full of excited squeals and hugs and twirls. Everyone at Spidey-HQ - minus some of the newcomers - knew who you were and didn’t hesitate to shout their joy, whooping and calling out across the atrium.

“CONGRATS, TEACH!” 

“LET’S GO! SPIDER-WEDDING!” 

“CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Hobie leaned against the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his patchwork leather jacket and flashing every color of the rainbow. 

He stuck his hand out without a word, a crooked smile on his face, “I don’t believe in state-sanctioned marriage, you know. You and Miguel are already married - have been for ages in my book.”

“You rummaged around in your bag for the last of the invitations, finally locating the envelope that had slipped into one of the inner pockets and out of sight. 

You hesitated, trying to hide your disappointment, “... so does that mean you’re not coming then?”

Hobie quickly snatched the invitation out of your hands, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles. You laughed, shoving him away and fixing the tangles he’d made in your hair. 

“Pffft, of course I’m coming. It’s important to you.” He shoved the cream-colored paper into his pockets alongside a couple posters he hadn’t found a proper place to plaster them on yet. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He smirked, “But I hope you’re not expecting me to show up in a suit.” 

“Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

“And are you going to ask me to be a groomsman or something? Make a toast at dinner?” There was no contempt in his voice… If anything he seemed expectant. Happy. 

“Actually, Miguel and I were hoping you could be the flower girl with May and Benjy.” 

He brightened up, flashing a sunflower yellow and shooting off curls of newspaper print like fireworks. 

“HA! I like it. I like it.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, opening his arms wide and sighing like he was giving up on an age-old war, “Alright, get in here, girl. I wanna hug you.” 

You giggled, scrunching up your nose in satisfied glee as Hobie finally gave into his softness. He liked to pretend he was cooler than everyone else in the room - and he usually was - but that didn’t stop him from also being the softest person you’d ever met. 

“Congratulations.” He said, propping his head up on top of your head and mussing up your hair once again.

“Thanks, Hobie.” 

You weren’t alone in spreading the news - Miguel was making his own rounds. Margo was the first one he’d told, by virtue of the fact that she was nearest to his office. 

“Hey, Margo.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. He held out the envelope, Margo’s headpiece peeling away from her sleek cornrows. Her eyes glittered purple, wide open and staring.

“Really?” She asked hesitantly, reaching out for the paper. 

“Of course, Margo. You’re family. We want you there.” 

Her eyes softened and she read through the invitation quietly.

“Y/n was also hoping you’d be a bridesmaid.” He tapped the additional paper sealed in her envelope. “Nothing fancy, but we wanted you at the front with everyone else. Miles, Gwen, Peter B, LEGO P-oof.” 

Miguel huffed as Margo all but rammed into his chest, the edges of her flickering. Who knew virtual reality bodies were so durable and dense.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice.

Margo didn’t like to talk about home, preferring the VR life she led with the Spider-Society. They were her real family now… she just liked the confirmation. 

“Anytime, kid.” 

She cleared her throat, pushing him away as quickly as she’d hugged him. “Alright, get out of here. I’m sure everyone wants to see you right now.” She turned around, wiping at her eyes in real life. Her VR body did the same. 

Miguel chuckled, rubbing his neck again. He wasn’t used to the kind of attention he’d been receiving since meeting you and learning to open up again. It was almost as if he was likable when he wasn’t acting like a complete asshole.

He was chased by compliments and congratulations all day, Spider-people stopping him to clap him on the back or to bump shoulders like they knew just how absolutely whipped he was.

Something about announcing your engagement to the world made the whole thing feel more real, like he could taste it as physically as he could taste your lips whenever he kissed you. He didn’t wear his engagement ring very often for the same reasons as you, but he slipped it on his finger halfway through the day, standing a little straighter, and looking a little prouder after doing so. 

LEGO Peter was next and he’d practically swooned when Miguel had handed him his invitation between his thumb and pointer finger. He’d printed an extra-small version for him. Then he’d fainted when Miguel asked him to be a groomsman, his brick body going rigid and toppling back with the same rattle as a teacup saucer.

“I’m taking that as a yes!” Miguel called out, slipping his head back out of the portal into his own universe.

He needed to make a home visit for Jessica, but she had a champagne bottle ready to burst when Miguel appeared into her home in a crackle of color and brushstrokes.

“AHH! HA!” She tossed her head back with glee. Her mane of pitch black hair smelled like coconut and citrus. “CONGRATULATIONS! Malcolm! Malcolm, get your ass in here. Miguel’s arrived.” 

Her husband slid across the living room entrance, a chubby three-year-old boy balanced on his hip and grabbing at his locs. 

“Miguel!” 

“Hey, Malcolm.”

“Mig!” 

“Heyyyy, Jefferson.” Miguel laughed when the little boy grabbed at him, latching onto a strand of brown hair and tugging. 

Jessica clicked her tongue, “Jeff, what have we talked about.”

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, patting Miguel’s head and slapping him in the face in the process. 

“It’s alright, kid.” 

“OOooooh. Get in here, Migs.” Jessica was grinning brighter than the sun, radiating warmth as she wound her arms around his ribs and used her strength to lift him off his feet and shake him like a rag doll.

“Careful, Jess. Can’t break the groom before his wedding.” 

“Pfffft, Miguel’s not made of glass, honey.” 

That much was obvious enough. Miguel had to keep his body crooked to avoid banging his head against the hanging ceiling lights. 

“Congratulations, man.” Malcolm hugged him next, being notably gentler than his wife. He still slapped Miguel’s back hard enough to rattle his shoulders though. 

Miguel stayed for a long while, until him and Jess had made their way through three bottles of champagne just because they could. Their bodies burned through alcohol way too quickly to get drunk - a fact that had disappointed Miles when he went off to college for the first time last year. 

Jess and Malcolm leaned towards one another like sunflowers to light, with little Jefferson splashed across both their knees and struggling to stay awake as the sun pressed against the windows and turned their pale yellow walls golden. 

That would be him someday, with you and your son.

The thought shook him to his core. First, because it was a secret hope that he’d never dared to even dream about and second, because it was now possible. Wonderfully, beautifully possible. 

His heart began to flutter, the absence of you by his side suddenly feeling like a gaping hole instead of a subtle ache. 

Jess seemed to understand that, making a show of looking at the clock and then down at her son’s open mouth drooling against Malcolm’s arm. 

“We should get this little guy to bed.” 

“On it.” 

“I’ll head out then. Thanks for everything, Jess.”

She made a noise with her tongue, brushing off his thanks with a graceful wave of her hand. “Get out of here you big sap. And tell Y/n I said congratulations too! Actually, scratch that. I’m coming in tomorrow so I’ll tell her in person.” 

Miguel chuckled, “Alright then.” 

He gave a final hug to Malcolm and Jessica. Jefferson stirred in his mother’s arms just long enough to babble something that sounded adorably close to, “I’m not… I’m not sleepy. I-” before his eyes rolled back and he slumped onto Jessica’s shoulder. 

You sat curled up in Miguel’s office chair, legs thrown over one of the armrests as you flipped through the pages of your book on the life of Aubrey Vincent Beardsley. Occasionally your eyes would flicker to the array of monitors, watching the careful web of universes as they flickered and morphed. Fluid, but stable, and in a perfect balance of chaos and order. 

Miguel drifted into the room behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and peppering the curve of your neck with kisses.

“Mi amor,” He murmured. You hummed happily, tilting your head further to give him better access. “How is everything going on with you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

“That’s a pretty great answer.” He chuckled, finishing with a quick kiss to your lips. He came around, lifting you up with ease before sitting down in his chair and placing you in his lap, “And how are things in the Spider-Verse?”  

You made a self-satisfied hmph sound. Thank god he’d finally stopped calling it the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. What a mouthful. 

“Holding strong and steady.” You flicked your fingers to the side, pulling up the latest day report that you’d already handed two hours ago, “B76’s Black Cat and 1805’s Venom were the only anomalies. Done and dusted with no issue. Reports are on file under Project Catalyst.”

“Perfect.” 

Miguel stretched comfortably, curling in on you and resting his head on your chest like the world’s most luxurious cat.

You snorted, blinking your book away with a snap of your fingers and running your fingers through his hair just the way he liked. He groaned softly when you lightly dragged your fingernails against his scalp. 

“Right there, babe.” He encouraged, sighing with contentment. 

You stayed like that for a long while, one of Miguel’s arms wrapped around your waist and his other hand snaking up your stomach to rub circles against your smooth skin. Unbeknownst to you, he was quietly thinking about what it might be like if you ever decided to have kids. If one day he’d be so lucky to lay like this against you and quietly talk to the little child growing in your stomach. 

He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself.

“Everything ok, Migs?” You curled your finger beneath his chin, gently tilting his face up to look at you. His eyes softened.

“Yeah. Everything’s perfect.” 

You couldn’t help it, you blushed under the softness of his gaze. It was strange how you could get into hundreds of fist-fights, get knocked on your ass dozens of times over, and yet crumble at the sight of his auburn eyes. You didn’t mind the vulnerability though - you knew Miguel felt the same. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing the flash of silver on his finger.

"You wore it today?"

He smiled when you took his hand in yours, kissing his palm, "Felt appropriate."

You tugged the necklace out from under your shirt, carefully slipping the ring off the chain. Miguel took it wordlessly from you, gently kissing your hand before sliding the ring onto your finger. It was warm to the touch after hours pressed against your heart and Miguel felt a surge of love flood his chest seeing you wear it.

“Busy day, huh?” You asked when he settled back down, holding your hand tightly in his.

He groaned, “You could say that. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many people talk to me in my life.” 

You prodded him in the side, “That’s not saying very much.”

“Ouch.” He grinned, kissing your chest. 

“Did everyone say yes to joining the wedding party?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yup.” Your lips popped on the end of the word.

Miguel grinned wide and unabashedly leaning closer to you, “Then we got ourselves a wedding,” he said, smiling against your lips. He tasted like coffee and cinnamon. 

You chuckled, “Maybe we shouldn’t have sprung this on them so soon.”

Miguel shrugged, “We needed to tell them at some point, cariño. And it’s not like we’re doing all the extra stuff. They just need to show up to the church at this point.” 

“I know that. But Pavitr seemed to disagree. Apparently I'm going to have a bachelorette party next weekend.” 

He pouted, “No party for me?! I’m hurt.” 

“Peter didn’t bring it up with you? I thought he'd be over the moon about being Best Man.”

Miguel’s head shot up, thick brows furrowing in confusion beneath a bed of ruffled curls, “I thought you were going to tell Peter.”

You tipped your head to the side, “I thought you were going to tell to Peter?” 

“Yeah, LEGO Peter.” 

Silence, thick and full of horror fell over both of you. 

“Did… did neither of us tell Peter and MJ?” You whispered. 

Miguel closed his eyes, his face plummeting into the soft skin of your chest, “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

The double doors to Miguel’s office slid open with a groan of disappointment. Peter stood there with his legs splayed, carving out a disgruntled shape in his signature pink bathrobe that he never took off, especially with the new addition to his family. 

Mayday clung to her father’s chest, her brother’s chestnut mop poking out from behind Peter’s shoulder. Benjy’s grin was gummy and wide and he wore matching noise-canceling headphones with his sister.

“Fuck.” You repeated, your face falling flat. 

MJ leaned against the doorway and rubbed her temples with one hand, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as Peter stalked forward, absolutely livid. 

“You MOTHERFUCK—

*cut scene*

*Alexa, play 'Blitzkrieg Bop' by The Ramones*

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Author's note (again!):

Just some funny gifs I thought were appropriate for the characters:

Peter storming into the room because his best friends forgot to tell him about their engagement:

Pavitr learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

LEGO Peter learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Love,

Florence B.

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #Spider-gang #found family #Hummingbird #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter b parker #hobie brown #across the spider verse

[amirasainz]

OMG LANDO WON THE RACE TODAY. IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM. LITERALLY CAN NOT STOP CRYING. Can you write on where baby!sainz is there supporting him and literally crying as he wins.

HI loves! I'M so sorry but am I the onyl one who found the whole Carlos vs. Oscar thing so funny? Carlos whining was so funny (no hate towards any drivers!!!)

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy reading this and please send me some requests!

-XoXo

The Winner takes it all

Ah, Miami—the sun-kissed jewel in the racing calendar. Amira’s secret favorite, where the vibrant energy of the city blended seamlessly with the adrenaline-fueled atmosphere of the track. Perhaps it was the balmy weather that allowed her to flaunt those pretty summer clothes, or maybe the challenging circuit that kept drivers on their toes. And let’s not forget the food trucks—those mobile havens of culinary delight that dotted the paddock, tempting everyone with their sizzling aromas.

The livery and helmets, custom-crafted for the Miami Grand Prix, added an extra layer of excitement. Each design told a story: sleek curves and bold colors, a canvas for the drivers’ personalities. Amira reveled in the anticipation, her heart dancing to the rhythm of engines and tire screeches.

As tradition dictated, she accepted the invitation from Carlos (and the others). This year, she took her time getting ready. The morning sun painted her room in warm hues, and Amira felt it—an electric current of anticipation. Her abuela’s voice echoed in her mind: Confía en tus instintos, mi niña.

Arriving at the paddock with Carlos, Charles, and Alex, Amira’s smile bloomed. The camaraderie of the racing family enveloped her—the shared laughter, the knowing glances. The other three found her reaction endearing, a testament to her genuine love for this world. Before the engines roared to life, she soaked in the before-race energy—the hum of possibility, the promise of speed.

And then, the ex-president approached. His words hung in the air, but Amira’s instincts flared. She turned away, a subtle pivot that spoke volumes. Stranger danger, indeed. Like c'mon. Can we fault her for that?

The Miami Grand Prix—a sun-drenched spectacle where the roar of engines mingles with the rhythm of salsa beats. Finally it started. Amira stood between Alex and Pirro Ferrari, the latter a seasoned gentleman who’d seen more races than most. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a symphony of tire rubber and adrenaline.

And then it happened—the Oscar vs. Carlos showdown. Amira stifled a laugh. She loved her brother, but who did he think he was, ordering Oscar to yield? The unimpressed behavior from Oscar was priceless. But when Carlos collided with him, Amira’s amusement faded. This wasn’t the Carlos she knew—the calculated racer who danced on the edge but never lost control.

Yet destiny had other plans. As the laps ticked by, Amira’s attention shifted. Lando Norris, the boy with the perpetual grin, surged ahead. Her Lando. The backstory was simple: Lando had a crush on her, and Amira? Well, she was still figuring it out. Just a girl caught in the whirlwind of racing drama.

When Lando finally crossed the checkered flag, Amira’s heart soared. Tears escaped, unbidden. No more Lando Nowins—the boy who’d always been second. She flung herself into Pirro Ferrari’s arms, and he held her gently. “Ahh, young love,” he thought, watching the victory celebration unfold. “La cosa più dolce del mondo.” Indeed, sweetest of all.

As the cheers echoed through the paddock, Amira reveled in the euphoria of victory. Lando Norris, her Lando, had clinched his breakthrough maiden Formula 1 win at the Miami Grand Prix. The sun bathed the track in golden hues, and the air buzzed with celebration.

But then, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Amira! Come join us, sweetie.” Zac Brown and Andrea Stella stood near the Ferrari box, beckoning her over. She glanced at Mr. Ferrari, who nodded with a smile. The McLaren bosses pulled her towards the fence. They knew better than to put her in the front row; Lando would undoubtedly leap over the barrier in his exuberance.

“Is it alright that I’m here?” Amira asked, her heart racing. “I know this is more of a McLaren celebration, and I don’t want to disturb.”

Zac and Andrea exchanged a knowing look. Andrea rested a hand on her shoulder. “Amira, honey,” he said gently. “I think Lando would flip out if you weren’t here.”

And then, as if summoned by fate, Lando appeared. He leaped into the arms of the mechanics, their cheers lifting him higher. He was their winner—the boy who’d fought for this moment. But there was one more surprise in store.

Zac and Andrea approached Lando. “We have a 1.60m surprise for you,” they said, grinning. Lando’s confusion melted into understanding as he followed their gaze. His eyes locked onto Amira, standing there like a beacon. Without hesitation, he ran to her, lifting her off her feet. She clung to him, like a baby koala seeking refuge.

For an eternity, they held each other—the race winner and the girl who’d captured his heart. And in that moment, amid the cheers and the sun-kissed joy, they found their own victory.

“Lando. My Lando… You finally did it. I’m so proud of you. Mi ganador,” she whispered quietly. In that suspended moment, the world ceased its frantic spin. The crowd froze, their collective breath held. For one perfect moment, everthing stopped.

There existed only the two of them—the victorious racer and the girl who’d cheered him on. Lando leaned his forehead against hers, a shared heartbeat. A tear escaped Amira’s eye, and he wiped it away with gentle urgency. “My Mira. I did it. I finally won,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. She couldn’t find words, so she nodded, her heart echoing his triumph. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent—the sweet mix of adrenaline and possibility.

And then, as if the universe nudged them forward, time resumed its march. Lando was whisked away to the podium, the spotlight now on him. Cameras clicked, capturing moments that would echo through history: Lando’s gaze fixed directly on Amira, her tears as he received the trophy, and Andrea’s proud smile.

Even the commentators—Crofty and Bundl—couldn’t resist. “And here we see Amira Sainz,” they narrated. “The youngest sister of Carlos Sainz and a famous actress. It seems she’s shedding happy tears for her friend Lando Norris, who just won his first GP. And… is she reapplying her lip gloss?” The world watched, and in that snapshot of time, Amira and Lando’s story became legend.

#baby!sainz!sister #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #formula 1 x reader #miami gp 2024

[normal-internet-user]

☁️ WITH PERCY JACKSON PLS I LIVE FOR ANGST🙏🙏🙏

YES YES PERCY ANGST!

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BLAME GAME

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Percy can't handle it when you get hurt...

Warnings: Angst; hurt to comfort; No godly parent mentioned; mild swearing;

Requested: Yuh-huh!

GN Reader!

"Percy, I'm okay now." You insist for the tenth time in five minutes, "Just a little bruised is all.", but it fell on deaf ears as Percy fell down his usual spiral of worry.

"You were attacked on the way to Camp! You aren't okay!" He says worriedly, sitting next to you on your cot.

Percy frowns, his mind flashing back to you, unconcious and bleeding being rushed into the infirmary. He should have been there.

If he was, he could have protected you, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. You wouldn't be here right now. Wrapped in gauze and unable to take anymore ambrosia or necter lest you burn up.

"Percy, baby, where's your head at right now?" You asks softly, frowning at the distantly worried look he had on his face.

"I should have been there." Percy whispers back, lacing your fingers together with a frown.

"Percy-"

He looks over at you, using his free hand to cup your face, "No, if I had been, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I should have been there. I should have protected you, this is my fault!"

You squeez his hand, getting his attention, "Hey, don't be dumb. This is not your fault. End of story. Okay? So let's not play the blame game, because we both know that won't help a thing."

Percy hesitates for a second, before nodding. Then he buries his head in your shoulder, pulling you into his arms, being extra careful not to irritate any remaining bruises.

"You scared the shit outta me." He whispers tearfully, clinging to you like you might vanish from his arms.

"I know, baby. I'm okay, promise I'm okay." You mutter, running your hands soothingly through his hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm okay."

Percy just hugs you tighter, and you knew he wasn't going to let you go for a while. But that's okay. You could both use the comfort.

....................................

Working on a bunch of my asks in bulk rn, hit a huge surge of writing energy-

#normie writes #pjo x reader #percy x reader fluff #percy x reader angst #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #x reader #gn reader #percy x gn reader #tw swearing #swearing #angst