#i suppose. when life feels out of our hands. out of control

[forestofsprites]

i think that sometimes the best thing that you can do is remind yourself that there are beaches. lakes, rivers, and ponds. there are forests. little woods and meadows. there are canyons. gullies and mountain cliffs. there are rainy days. dry spells and scorching blue skies. that the world turns. changes as much as it repeats. that feeling slow today won't stop tomorrow's high tide. won't make july's blackberries any less ripe

#i do think there's a comfort in knowing the world won't stop for me #that me feeling off kilter doesn't mean spring will come any slower #i suppose. when life feels out of our hands. out of control #the planet keeps doing its thing #and we will be there to meet it #to engage w it. to witness it. to make changes where and when we can #too much change lately!!!!!! too much life out of my hands!!! #thoughts

[xveenusx]

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8.  Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in. 

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents. 

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me. 

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me. 

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince. 

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him. 

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding? 

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out? 

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned. 

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him. 

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older. 

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing. 

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention? 

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing. 

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance. 

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question. 

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway. 

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts. 

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me? 

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe. 

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different. 

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter. 

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too. 

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually. 

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move. 

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away. 

“Not right now, Kells.” 

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe. 

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe. 

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him. 

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead. 

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up. 

Topper coughs. “Sophia.” 

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move. 

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor. 

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor. 

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation. 

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open. 

He’s high. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me. 

Dying would be less painful.

 I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but. 

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal. 

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel. 

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical. 

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder. 

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask. 

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.” 

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away. 

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.” 

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed. 

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small. 

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.” 

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels. 

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything. 

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all. 

 “No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused. 

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change. 

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room. 

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low. 

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place. 

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought. 

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it. 

I loved him once too. 

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.” 

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating. 

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes. 

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats. 

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again. 

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.” 

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

 “I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.” 

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?” 

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all. 

“Friday.” 

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.” 

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

 “Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even. 

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé. 

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

 “You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger. 

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.” 

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic. 

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

 “This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex. 

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.” 

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain. 

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic. 

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble. 

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms. 

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them. 

“You promised me we’d never end.” 

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off. 

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see. 

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him. 

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. 

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.” 

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.” 

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve. 

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me. 

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

 Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

 He had me. Then he lost me. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to.  But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starky angst #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks angst #obx angst #rafe cameron smut

[unreliablesnake]

Not on my watch (Ghost x reader)

Summary: Soap finds out Ghost is dating his little sister.

Warning: mention of miscarriage, age gap

“No,” Soap said sternly as his eyes moved from the lieutenant to you. “Don't even think about it.”

“Johnny, I–”

“No, LT, there's nothing you can say that would change my mind. She's my little sister! I've been sheltering her from assholes and people like us from the beginning.”

Ghost let out a groan as he buried his hand into his hair and grabbed a fistful of it. “Come on, she's an adult. She can decide who she wants to date,” he tried. 

“Have you stopped to consider how much younger she is? Hmm?” Soap began as he poked his superior’s chest. “Because I can assure you our parents would be against it too. Imagine the scandal if they or anyone we know found out.”

And while Ghost was losing hope of having a proper conversation with the Scotsman, you seemed pretty confident that you could win this debate. “They love me, they wouldn’t object. They only have issues with your girlfriends because they’re usually–”

“You'd better not finish that sentence, lassie,” Soap warned her with a raised finger. 

“Just saying,” you told him with your hands held up.

“Can't we discuss this like adults? Please, just try to consider supporting us. I love her, we've been through hell already, I won't break her heart,” Ghost tried, feeling a sudden wave of guilt pass through him when he felt you tightly wrap your fingers around his hand.

Soap didn't miss any words, he immediately picked up on a hint. “What does that supposed to mean? What hell have you been through?” he asked.

Before Ghost could answer, you put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Don't,” was all you said.

But Soap was like a dog that didn't wanna let go of the bone he got. “I'm gonna ask again. What are you talking about?”

“She was pregnant,” Ghost suddenly announced, causing you to let go of his hand and begin to pace the room. He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he had enough of games. “We wanted to keep it, but she had a miscarriage.”

The sergeant suddenly understood everything that had happened in the past months. “Is that why you were so mad at everyone for a while?” he asked you, earning a cautious nod in response. “Fuck me.” He ran a hand through his mohawk as he took a few steps back. “Mom and Dad can't find out. Ever. And if anyone asks–”

“I don't need you to control my life, Johnny! I'm not a kid anymore,” you reminded him. “Just accept we're together and don't sabotage our relationship. That's all I'm asking for.”

Instead of speaking up, Soap walked over to you and pulled you into a hug. He knew you were right, it was probably time for him to treat you like an adult. And as for Ghost, he would be a hypocrite if he said he had never laid his eyes on younger women before. Because he did, and he also knew how persuasive you could be if you wanted something.

“If you end up breaking her heart anyway, I might shoot you on the field by accident,” he warned the lieutenant over your shoulder.

#call of duty #modern warfare #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw3 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap

[surielstea]

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

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Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

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#suriels tea #acotar #fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #x reader #azriel #request #acomaf #bat boys #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #shadowsinger x reader #azriel spymaster #fanfiction #x you #my fic #reader insert #x you fluff #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #x reader fluff #fluff #x reader acotar #acotar fanfiction #sjm #they’re so cute #i need him

[ferrstappen]

Max the wag: are we the drama? l Max Verstappen Imagine

happy note: hello my loviessssss! How are you all? It feels like it’s been an eternity and I am so so happy to be back to writing and interacting with your great and incredible asks and everything <3 and I know I said this was supposed to be ready by Monday or so? but I started an internship and it's been harder than expected, but I'm getting the hang of it so be prepared for more works to come!

Probably tomorrow I’ll be posting a list of all the requests I’m incredibly behind but that way you know I got them and are on my mind and will be written <3 I also don’t know if you like the idea of starting a tag list? Please please let me know, babes <3 

ALSO I got an incredible request of the Max the wag series involving our boy Yuki AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH so it’s absolutely happening!

YOU CAND FIND THE MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: For the first time, Max and you find yourselves on the other end of the gossip.

Hungary Grand Prix, 2023.

Max wasn’t feeling like himself.

The car upgrades were supposed to be great, not to make him struggle and happy a shitty day, which meant shitty questions, passive aggressive press conference trying to not look so annoyed, but it didn’t help that the press was painstakingly working to get the worst angles with furrowed eyebrows and waving off strangers trying to aggressively approach him.

Of course, it didn’t help you weren’t there to hold his hand walking around the paddock, forcing his blue eyes to focus on your calming smile and the inevitable lovestruck expression plastered on his face. 

And yes, he was letting out the fact he didn’t leave Monaco in the best of terms. He’d grown accustomed to you tagging along to most races, but when you informed him you wouldn’t be able to make it to the last two races before summer break he didn’t take it the best way. 

Yes, Max understood you were needed at your job and deadlines were way more difficult to meet with changing time zones, bumpy flights and noisy paddocks and hospitalities, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed you and his selfish self really needed you cheering for him, even if you’d seen him win enough times already. 

In conclusion, it was safe to say he didn’t really feel like putting on a genuine smile or goof around with interviewers who’d ask the same questions while Christian tells him off for looking unapproachable. 

The only thing that turned the corners of his mouth was a WhatsApp attachment from you, Jimmy and Sassy sleeping with the F1 channel on full display on the TV. 

It wasn’t long until Twitter and Instagram fan accounts came to the conclusion you weren’t there with Max, creating a small discussion with some people arguing that it didn’t make sense you’d tagged along to places like Baku or Melbourne and not go to a race less far away and arguably one of the most popular tracks of the season, while other people defended you saying you had your own life apart from being Max’s girlfriend, you had a job, conferences to attend amongst other things, so it was ridiculous to expect you to be there for every race, no matter how much you loved Max. 

You don’t know whether it was the fact you didn’t post a story on Instagram celebrating Max’s win or the fact Max hadn’t been his best self, struggling with the car, losing control over the tiniest thing and just losing focus overall the fuel for some fans to start speculating about the status of your relationship.

User1: why hasn’t y/n  posted something about max?? she always does when she’s not with him

User2: something’s sus 

User3: no pls I cant handle another July break up

User4: max deserves someone who shows up for him! He arguably had the most difficult weekend of the season and she’s mia 

            User5: she’s always there for him and has a right to have her own life grow the hell up!

Belgian Grand Prix, 2023

Last race before summer break meant most people on the paddock were a turmoil of emotions between the desire for the weekend to be completely over and wishing to do the best possible job before the break.

Max convinced himself he was coming into the weekend relaxed, knowing he’d have to put his best strategies, talent and focus for Spa, but a few free weeks were right around the corner so he could recharge with you, staying in bed for the entire morning before getting up to get ready to go out, maybe arriving back to the apartment drunk and giggly only to regret everything during the morning, but with the knowledge you were going to do the exact same.

He was facetiming you when he came across lots of fans wanting his attention, asking for pictures, until someone asked for you and Max pretended he didn’t listen, not wanting to answer things about his relationship, and the woman that asked wasn’t even sharp enough to catch your face on full display on his screen. 

Had Max known the chaos it would ensue not answering the simple question about you, maybe he’d reconsider, especially since Lando and him jumped from the paddock to a helicopter waiting to take them to the closing night of Tomorrowland where Martin Garrix was closing the last weekend.

User1: *attached video* pls pls you HAVE to see the discomfort on max face when someone asked him about y/n something is not right with parents

            User2: we all know he never speaks about her thoo, im keeping my hopes up!!!!

User4: I’m calling break up and good cuz I never liked her always acted like she was too good for the f1 world and never communicated w fans

            User3: that’s called being reserved moron!!1 you don’t see other wags taking pics with fans except maybe lily bc she’s a pro golfer!!!

You were sitting on your bed when Victoria sent a thread on Twitter (or X? or Threads? it’s confusing) pointing at every proof and detail about your supposed break up, ironically asking if you had something to inform the family since Max hadn’t said anything. 

With widened eyes and unable to contain the urge to see what people were saying about Max and you, two hours later you were still reading gossip sites and didn’t even hear the door of the penthouse opening with both Sassy and Jimmy running away from the feet of the bed. 

“Is this the welcome I get?” Max’s voice announced his arrival, catching you by surprise and throwing the phone in the air. 

“Fuck, Max! You scared the shit out of me, I hate you!” You laughed, finally realizing he was right in front of you and kneeling on the bed to attach your arms around his neck, allowing Max to grab you by the thighs and spin you around while you left small kisses on his cheeks.

“What were you reading? You looked very focused,” Max carefully placed you back on the mattress before throwing his body and groaning at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

“Did you know we broke up?” You questioned your boyfriend whose blue eyes opened as much as they could, eyebrows raised and slightly moving his head in confusion. 

Max was confused but still demanded an answer on what was going on as he watched the corners of your mouth lifting and quiet giggles leaving them. 

“Look, it’s full of theories because I didn’t attend the last races and after you went with Lando to watch Martin, some fans started drawing their own conclusions!”

“Are they insane? Speculating about other people’s love lives is so rude, and just because I didn’t answer a question about you which I never do? People are crazy!” Max exclaimed on an irritated tone, but quickly caught your eyes, making him realize the people commenting were doing the exact same thing as you, just on a larger scale. 

“Baby, I think this time we are the drama…” You stated before the bedroom became quiet.

It was just Max and you staring at each other, recalling every time you eavesdropped a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for either of you to hear, or discussed different theories on who had cheated, who had broken up with whom, why some partners were so young or looked almost identical. 

“Schatz, I am not going to lie,” Max started with a frown and serious face before continuing. “I am very proud of us” After letting it out Max started laughing, his cheeks flushing and placing his hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. 

“Baby, this definitely means we made it!”

It was bound to happen, you were meant to eventually become a source of spectacle if you enjoyed gossiping about other people’s lives so much. 

After laughing to the brink of tears, Max kissed your lips; softly, slowly and sensually, making it hard to separate but he stared right into your eyes and asked you in all seriousness: “Should we feed the gossip? Wouldn’t it be fun?”

#max the wag #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #f1 fics #Max Verstappen

[musickgeek]

Shadows [Alastor x Reader]

Enemies to lovers? Warnings: Allusions to death and murder

You and Alastor can't stand each other, but your shadows beg to differ (1.1K)

~~~~~

In life, I was a mastermind of manipulation. A con woman who could sweet talk anyone into anything. I had money, I had influence, I had control. People came to me when they wanted something, but it always came with a price. For some, their lives. Some people just have no respect for the hand that feeds them. They called me the Shadower because they could always feel me watching. I had eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone else got the upper hand, and shot me right between the eyes. The circumstances of my death make me so angry, I choose not to think of it much.

When I arrived in Hell, my surprise was brief. No doubt that I belonged here, but I didn't expect it all to be real. I didn't expect to have such dramatic changes in my appearance. My teeth became sharp, my eyes crocodilian, my nails became claws. I looked scary, and I liked it. Was I supposed to give my old ways up? Ha! As if. I built my empire from the ground up before, I could easily do it it again with all my knowledge. And now, I had real magic power, and I could really be a shadow. I was accompanied by a sentient shadow, a helpful friend in my business. I had a quick rise to power, becoming one amongst the Overlords.

They didn't seem to know what to make of me, and I was addicted to their intrigue and fear. Who could be next? They didn't dare cross me and find out. I didn't care much for the others besides a general sense of respect for each other's strength. But there was one, Alastor, who I could not stand. His smug smile, his stupid static voice, his ego. He always had to be the center of attention, and just couldn't stand that he was no longer the talk of the town.

"You don't even have your own gimmick."

"Just mad I do it better, Smiles?"

"Ha! Are cheap words the best you've got?"

"Ha ha, at least my words are audible. And I'm not the one with a tacky bow tie."

"Ha ha ha! I hate you."

Despite our animosity, there was one thing we could agree on. It's infuriating how much our shadow creatures love each other. The first time we'd met, our shadows bounded for each other as if they were old friends. His eyes widened in shock, but his smile never faltered. I hardly quirked my eye brows at the scene. It was like two dogs playing at the park. The red demon tilted his head at an awkward angle as he inspected me. "My, my! What a playful friend you have. You must be the new arrival everyone is just buzzing about. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon. I'm sure you've heard of me." He introduced, offering his hand. "Not in the slightest." I said, shaking it. His eye twitched, but his smile widened.

Ever since then, at every meeting, we had to pretend our shadows didn't fly together like magnets. It almost would be amusing if it weren't attached to that piece of shit. I simply don't understand it. Is it comfort in knowing there is another like them? Or is it all just a game to piss us off further? It's hard to tell. Sometimes it seems like they don't notice anyone else in the room, but sometimes they seem like they're sat together, gossiping about us like old ladies. Every time we left each other's presence, they seemed to reach for each other, not wanting to be torn apart. I have no idea if Alastor has noticed it. That would require him to have half a brain.

One night I decided to go to a speakeasy I frequent. I sat at the bar alone, but I could feel the fearful eyes on me. I smile behind my drink. I thought tonight was going to be a good night, but I was wrong. I didn't even know Radio Boy was around until I felt my shadow slipping away. They were dancing freely to the upbeat swing music, having the time of their lives. I scowl, and flag the bar tender for another drink. Maybe if I turn around, I can pretend it's not happening. Alas, the radio static fills the room, overlaying the music. I feel a presence behind me, but I already know who it is. "Alastor." I say, still facing away. "Why (Y/n), I never expected you to have enough class to visit to such an establishment."

"You came all the way over just to say that? You must be more obsessed with me then I thought." I say calmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me turning towards him. I can feel the comment burning up inside him. I smirk. "I could say the same. It's almost as if you were following me. You must admit, this does seem more my style." Finally I turn around with a shrug. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

His eyes narrow. "An interesting turn of phrase." Our shadows join us, seemingly swirling around people us excitedly. My shadow forces me out of my seat. My glass falls to the floor, shattering, and my body collides with the deer. "Watch it!" I growl at the two incorporeal beings. Alastor seems just as angry, his static getting louder and his limbs growing. I hiss with hostility at the act, letting my claws out. In the blink of an eye he returns to normal. "Coward?" I ask. "No. I simply came here for a relaxing night, not a fight. I can't be ruining my favorite place after all." I notice the bar has mostly cleared out save the employees and musicians. When it looks like two Overlords are about to have a turf war, you don't want to be around if you're the little guy.

The shadows begin dancing along the walls as the music returns. "Hm. Perhaps we should follow their lead." Alastor suggests, holding a hand out in a gentlemanly fashion. "What's your play?" I ask skeptically. "I'm simply suggesting to have a little fun amongst our banter. After all, it's been awhile since I've had a worthy dance partner." I smile coyly at his words, and take his hand. "Alright, but I think this proves who's obsessed with who."

"Keep dreaming, my dear." He says, twirling me to the beat. "Are you sure you can keep up with me?" I ask, matching his rhythmic kicks and skips. "Don't forget who grew up doing this. You don't know everything." For once, our words aren't laced with so much hostility. I guess tonight will be a good night after all.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #vivziepop #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #radio demon

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

#astarion x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #karlach #pregnancy #Astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astar

[teyamsatan]

High Infidelity

Adult!Neteyam x (f)Metkayina!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: cheating, smut (fingering, oral - f receiving, praise kink), cursing, 18+ minors dni

Word count: 3.7k words

Notes: oops, was supposed to write other things, but listening to this song triggered smth in my brain so here it is x enjoy ;)

next part (x)

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

“I’m tired, we can do it tomorrow.” 

“Ao’nung, we haven’t been swimming together in months. We’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives, you’d think I wouldn’t have to drag you outside to spend time with me every other day.”

“Maybe if you stopped nagging me like we’re already mated, I would be more inclined to want to spend time with you.” 

You couldn’t stop the tears falling down your cheeks any less than your legs making a run for it at the slightest pushback from your mate-to-be. Running away was the only time you felt free anymore. You loved Ao’nung. He’s been in your life… well, your whole life. There was little of you that wasn’t tied back to him and there was little of him that wasn’t embedded in you. You grew up together, Tsireya’s best friend and confidant, Ronal’s long-lost daughter, it seemed. You might as well be, since your parents were never around anyway, not to raise you, or to teach you better than to accept such treatment from a boy, who had been sweet and kind to you all your life, until he realised you liked him, until he realised that no matter how little he gave, you would cling on to it for dear life, you would pretend a drop of water was a fountain, and that it could sustain your thirst until the next drop came. 

You didn’t stop until you hit the beach, that was deserted this time of night, and sat down on the warm, soft sand. You sighed, allowing yourself the kindness of respite, of crying it out without shame, without constraint, without being made to feel stupid for being soft. You felt so foolish, so used and yet somehow so useless, at the same time. You were deep in thought, so deep in your own sorrow, that felt like it was drowning you, keeping your head forcefully underwater until there was no more breath in your lungs, that you missed the steps tracking closer until a tall form was towering above you.

 

“Are you alright?”

You shot up and onto your feet, pried out of your anguished reverie and shaking from the scare of another person, at a time and place you thought you would have the safety of solitude. You immediately recognised the young man sitting across from you, the rhythmic bioluminescent waves shining over his face, making him glow with ethereal beauty unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was hard not to know who he was, as him and his family have been the talk of the village for a while now, the buzz surrounding their arrival constant and unending. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the son of Jake Sully, the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya and the Sixth ever Toruk Makto. Everybody knew his story, everybody admired him, for his valiant win over the demons that took so much from the Na’vi and from the Planet. Now there he was, in your village, with his whole family, asking for Uturu, asking for a new chance, asking to be trained in the Metkayina ways. 

Neteyam Sully was a beautiful man. Tall and muscular, his body was a deep shade of blue, so unlike your own, so unlike anything you’ve ever known. His stripes were even darker, an intense indigo that reminded you of the night sky, of the sea during a heavy storm, and the contrast was hypnotising, so hypnotising, in fact, you couldn’t stop the booming in your heart or the way you were shamelessly staring at his arms and chest. His hand went to your chin, and he brought your face upwards to get you to look in his eyes. You swore your breath stopped when he touched you, all of your 18 years of breath practice and your phenomenal control right out the window. His eyes were bright like the stars in the night sky, which might as well have been dull and pointless when compared to the freckles on his face, that shone brilliantly and moved upwards as his lips lifted in a soft smile. 

“Can you hear me?” 

You shook your head lightly, trying to push the thoughts out of your head and bring the sane ones back in. 

“Y-yes, I can. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you are alright. You seemed… upset.”

His hand didn’t drop from you chin, and his lingering touch sent shivers down your back that reached the tips of your fingers and toes before dissipating and being replaced with new ones, electrifying your entire being. 

This was wrong. You were promised to another man. To the future Olo’eyktan. You had no business getting shivers down your spine, no business getting lost in his eyes, no business feeling feelings you have never felt before, not with Ao’nung, not with anybody else. You took a step back and watched and his hand fell from your face limply besides his body. 

“I’m alright. Thank you for checking, you are very kind. I should probably go now. It’s late.” 

You didn’t look behind you as you passed him and headed hurriedly back towards the village, hoping this way you could outrun him, the emotions he evoked in you, the shame that followed and the guilt that you knew was lurking menacingly in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry for being such a dick. Forgive me?” 

The shell he was holding out in his palms was gorgeous, everything you liked about the world and the sea wrapped in a tiny, magical package. He knew what you liked, he knew you very well, a thought that made you despondent. If he knew you, that means he knew what he was doing to you. He knew the feelings that plagued you, feelings that he brought upon you, that his actions brought upon you, and he still did them - unapologetically, at least until the last second, when he came asking for forgiveness, which you granted every time. He raised an index finger to your chin and lifted your head and you couldn’t help the booming in your ears when the action reminded you of the Omatikaya boy and the night you’ve pointlessly tried your best to forget about the past couple of weeks. 

As your lips touched, a messy, sloppy kiss, filled with intention and need, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as not even this kiss, passionate as it was, invoked a fraction of the same reaction in your body as Neteyam’s one touch. Still, you loved Ao’nung. You always have. You were to be a mated pair soon. You were to be together…forever. He moaned as he deepened the kiss and you smiled at knowing, despite everything, it was you who made him feel this way. He might be acting out now, but he loved you, he wanted you. And one day, he’ll love you enough to show you in more ways than just the one. 

“I still have to teach the Omatikaya, how about you come with me?”

“NO!” 

Ao’nung looked at you curiously and tried to understand where this reaction was coming from. You knew you exaggerated and had to calm yourself if you were to not raise any suspicion. Not that there was anything to raise, you didn’t do anything wrong. And yet still, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling, the lingering thought that you had to lie, that what happened had to stay between you and the eldest Sully. 

“I’d rather not, I have other things to do around the village anyway.”

Ao’nung scoffed and rolled his eyes irately. 

“You know, you keep saying we never spend time together, but then you pull this shit. I’m busy, you know? I can’t always entertain you whenever you want.” 

You felt the all-too-familiar sinking feeling take over your mind again, just like the tears that formed almost instantly at his words, threatening you, praying for one moment of weakness so they’d fall and make a mess out of you again. 

“Ao’nung… I come most times you ask. Every time you ask, in fact, which is very rarely. I just can’t right now. I’ll wait for you to come by my marui tonight. My parents aren’t home.” 

Why did you do that? Why did you ask him to come? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. You made a promise, though. To the clan, to the Tsa’hik and Olo’eyktan. To him. It was an unbreakable promise, a sacred bond. You were mere weeks away from completing your Iknimaya, short time away from giving yourself to him, allowing him to do to you what you knew was the ultimate form of intimacy, what you’ve wondered about for years, what you’ve been craving for the last few weeks. 

You walked on the beach, the same beach, a beach most Metkayina didn’t come to, as it was out of the way and filled with big rocks and greenery that took away from the beauty of it all and the usual uninterrupted patch golden sand which people liked to lie on, to feel, as it grazed their sea-green skin. You hoped the walk would clear your mind, a hope that quickly vanished from sight as a certain cerulean Na’vi tapped you gently on the shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. He laughed softly, his sharp, pronounced canines coming swiftly into view, and you felt a sudden urge to touch them, to see if they were indeed as sharp as they looked. Could they draw blood? Could they pierce your skin easily, as they grazed over you, over your neck, over your -

“Sorry I scared you. I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

“I…” you took a deep breath in a futile effort to calm your nerves. “I thought you were training with Ao’nung.” 

He eyed you intently, his gaze trailing over your face and landing on your lips. You opened them slightly to accommodate the deeper breaths you felt the need to take, like your body needed an increase in its oxygen intake to keep up with the intensity of his presence. 

“I was, but my dad needed me for something. I’m on my way there now.” 

Your hand felt like it caught on fire as his fingers wrapped around it, lifting it up in front of you until your palm was facing upwards and he dropped a bracelet in it, closing your hand with a touch of his hand and letting you go. 

“You lost this, that night on the beach? I have been meaning to give it back to you, but you have a way of eluding me, it seems.” 

You opened your hand again and inspected the item that was now residing in it. It was a bracelet you got as a gift when you were much younger, when your mateship with Ao’nung was first announced. Your shoulders dropped at its sight. It was pretty, and ornate, and a bitter reminder of what was beautiful and has now soured through time, like fruit left outside on a hot day. 

“Thank you. I appreciate you finding it for me. It’s very precious to me.”

He chuckled a little, unable to keep the sarcasm from coating his tongue. 

“Is it? It’s been weeks since you’ve lost it, and the way you reacted makes me think you didn’t even realise it was gone.”

You took a step back at his words and felt your ears flattening in response. Your dour expression must have taken him by surprise, just like his words did you, because he took a step towards you and spoke. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to infer. You know better than me what this means to you. It was rude of me, and I apologise.” 

You couldn’t help staring at him once more, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, unable to understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. He… apologised? He said something untoward and he just… apologised? You don’t think this has ever happened to you. You didn’t think that was possible, not to you, at least. Other girls, your friends, had mates like that, had relationships that were… well, happy. They were happy, and filled with love and lust and passion, with sleepless nights and midnight swims, with lingering touches and anticipating gazes, filled with feelings of flickering flames and wondrous woes, filled with so many things you’ve never felt before, with all the things you were feeling right in this second. 

“So you are Ao’nung’s mate?”

Why was he asking you this? Why now?

“Mate-to-be.” You whispered, knowing that if your voice was any louder, it would be shaky and breathy. 

He nodded to himself, looking deep in thought as his eyes darted to your much smaller body and then over in the distance, at the waves crashing on the beach. 

“Why are you asking, Neteyam?” 

His step faltered a little as you said his name, but he regained his composure almost immediately, falling back into step with you, as if it never happened. His face gave little away, although his tail was moving behind you furiously, running up and down the back of your thighs in their haphazard motion. You felt heat pool in the pits of your abdomen at the quick brush of the soft appendix, that you tried to will away to no avail. 

“Take care of yourself. I should go train with your mate.” 

And just like that he left, leaving you to deal with your chagrinned heart and leering mind, all on your own. 

He didn’t show. Once more, you waited for hours in your tent, until way past eclipse, and your mate didn’t show. You were crying in your hammock, trying to undo the hurt in your heart, hoping that if you cry hard enough it will just escape through your tears duct and be gone from your body once and for all. You were playing with the bracelet he gave you so long ago, cursing it and cursing him for the years of hurt and pain, the years of broken promises and shattered expectations, and with newfound determination, you dropped it on the floor and left for your beach. 

You were a little surprised when you found Neteyam sitting peacefully on the beach, looking into the darkness that enveloped the sea for the night, only the glimmer of the bioluminescent plankton being hit by the soft waves visible. You swallowed audibly, and made your way to this man you had some sort of unspoken connection to, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped in your chest at the mere sight of him. 

His ears twitched as he made out your presence, but he didn’t made any effort to acknowledge it otherwise. 

“He didn’t show, did he?”

“H-how did you…?”

“I overheard you. In the morning.” He got up and turned around to face you, a fervid look on his face that made your legs quiver and push together to accommodate the feeling growing in between your thighs. 

“Why were you so adamant about not coming training with us?”

“I was… busy.” 

His body got closer to you, closer and closer, regardless of how many steps back you were taking, regardless of the fact that you made every effort to get away from his presence that overwhelmed your every sense, clouded your every critical thought and replaced it with a blabbering mess of heightened emotion and need. You gasped loudly when your back hit the trunk of a tree and you realised there was nowhere to go anymore. No place to hide, nothing to do but deal with it, with him. 

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me.”

His beautiful aureate eyes were fixed on your face, an ardent, hungry look haunting them, haunting you. Your knees were weak and wobbly, cowering under the weight of his presence, under the weight of the lust washing over you. His hands raised to your face, and the rough calloused feel of his fingertips made you pant, made you fantasise about how they would feel against other parts of you that desperately craved attention. 

What are you doing? This is wrong. This is so wrong. 

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

You knew as his face was closing in on yours that you were doomed, that you didn’t have it in you to stop him, that you didn’t want to stop him. You knew that this kiss would mark a point of no return, a path of illicit affairs and unspeakable secrets, and that nothing could ever take it back, but you didn’t care. You wanted to know what it felt like, to be wanted, to be owned, to feel special.

His lips were nothing like his hands, instead they felt feathery and soft, and he tasted sweet, like a ripened fruit or like a child’s laughter. The kiss was hungry and needy, like you were, and your lips were brushing over each other, devouring any ounce of sanity still left in you as his tongue trailed over your lips and into your mouth, and you welcomed him with your own, allowing yourself to taste him, allowing him to taste you, to explore you. 

“I want you. I want you so badly, I want you to know what you do to me. I want to show you what you deserve.”

He broke the kiss to place new, wet ones along your jaw and down your neck, and your couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and the way your head threw back, chest heaving at the sensation, at his maddening words. His lips were roaming your body, licking and sucking and biting on every inch of your torso and abdomen, like he was uncovering uncharted territory and wanted to know every secret within it. He knelt in front of you as he reached your hips, and you found yourself using the very limited amount of critical thinking you still had to push his head away from where you knew he was headed, from where you desperately wanted him, from where you knew he couldn’t be. 

“No. We can’t. This is wrong.”

“Yes. Yes, we can. You can, and you should. You should see what you’re missing out on by being promised to him. Let me show you how good it can be. How good I can make you feel.” 

He tightened his hand around one of your thighs and plopped it on his shoulder and then wrapped his fingers in the waistband of your loincloth, untying it easily. You groaned as the breeze hit your now uncovered core and shut your eyes tightly when the sight made Neteyam let out a wild, throaty moan that made you feral. 

“Look at that. You’re already ready for me. You’re dripping wet, that’s how badly you want this. How can something that feels this good ever be wrong?” 

You were a hyperventilating mess as his face got so close to your folds, you could feel his warm breath on you. A kiss is all it took for you to melt under his touch, for all reason to leave your being, every memory of your promised mate erased from your mind, like he never existed. Like nothing ever existed outside of this man, outside of the feelings he evoked in you. He pushed his tongue inside of you and you pushed out unintelligible noises, that got louder the harder he thrusted in you, the more his lips moved fluidly and skilfully on you, sucking and biting until the pleasure was coiling inside of you like a spring ready to give out at any blow of the wind. His tongue was swiftly replaced with a finger, and the foreign sensation made you squeeze your legs together as you discovered it, as you revelled in it. 

“You’re taking it so well, baby girl. So well. Think you can do one more finger?” 

You had no words, no words could be formulated in your state, so you just nodded aggressively, bucking your hips against him and he chuckled. 

“So needy. Needy for my fingers, huh?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer as he retracted his middle finger and pushed it back in, adding the ring finger, until he reached a spot that made you scream out, eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“That’s it, that’s the spot. Feel good? You like being fingered, you like my mouth on this needy cunt, huh?”

His words made you a mewling mess, and you felt the pressure in your core build up and you knew it was building up towards a release that would take everything out you, that would ruin you, just like he was ruining you. 

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers. I want to see you come, I want to taste your cum on my tongue, baby girl. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His tongue found his way back to your clit, licking and sucking while maintaining an unrelenting pace of his fingers and with little warning, your orgasm washed over you like a rogue wave in the middle of an ocean of pleasure, overtaking you, drowning you in him, in this feeling you never wanted to end. 

He smirked as he got up and kissed you, and you loved the taste of yourself on him, loved it in all its unholy, nefarious, sinful glory. His thumb brushed your lips as he spoke.

“One day, you’re going to beg me to fuck you. And I’ll do it so well, you will never be able to get me out of your mind, never be able to touch yourself again without an image of my cock slipping in and out of you ingrained in your brain.” 

He walked away without looking at you. 

“Sleep well.” 

pt. 2? maybe? maybe not?

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar masterlist #avatar writer #avatar writing #avatar fanfic #avatar smut #avatar angst #neteyam #neteyam fanfic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader

[lokisgoodgirl]

Asgard's Greatest Lover [Brodinsons]

Part of the Brother Collection A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: An offhand comment leads to a salty trip down memory lane. (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: Squabbling. D*ck measuring contests to fluff. Implied smut references.

“Loki, she’s looking over-” Despite best efforts to ignore it, the meaty elbow jostling the god’s ribs made him wince. “Loki, look, in the stand yonder. She’s looking, Loki- look” Thor boomed excitedly, bouncing in his seat. “Will you desist?” Loki spat, hissing under his breath.

He could feel blood warming his cheeks, the volume of Thor's attempt at subtlety making him wish a portal would swallow him whole. He shouldn't have come. He didn't even like tennis. And yet, as always, here he was. With his public embarrassment of a brother. Loki grimaced as Thor began to point.

“But look hence...she noticed you! Perhaps she wishes to bid us good day.” He began to raise his arm, the start of a floppy wave which would likely be seen from space. “Wave, Loki- look, brother, see-!” Loki’s hand shot out, forcing the over-excited gesture down. “She’s wondering if you have utterly lost control of your faculties, brother;” Loki snarled, trying his best to look menacing. “As am I.”

Thor chortled, straightening a muscle vest which was three sizes too small. “Oh, Loki. You never have been very good at this sort of thing,” he sighed, letting his enthused gaze roam up and down the pristine grass court as Stark Industries friends and family took their seats. “It truly is a boon that you have one such as I to guide you in this romantic endeavour.” Loki raised his brows. He knew he shouldn’t take the bait. Especially in public. Especially today. But it was just too tempting.

“Whatever could you mean, brother?” he crooned, giving his most stoic side-eye with a tilt of his chin. He felt Thor bristle, telltale nervous fingering of blonde strands behind his ear letting Loki know the warning pitch of his voice had hit as intended.

“Well, Loki, it’s no secret that your love life has been fraught with unfortunate malaise where seduction is concerned,” “Unfortunate?” Loki said coldly, “I wouldn’t call a reputation as Asgard’s greatest lover unfortunate.”

Thor spluttered, shaking his head with sanctimonious laughter. “Ah, my little brother. I do admire the unshakeable esteem with which you hold your delusions.”

The dark brother’s grip tightened on the bleacher bench. “And I suppose you believe that title belongs to you, does it?” he sneered through gritted teeth. Poison flecked the words, dripping from his tongue like venom from a fang. Thor’s eyes narrowed. “I have the relic which proves it,” he shrugged.

“The one our mother gave you in solace when Jane left?” Loki snarled, “Pathetic. I doubt she even knew what it truly meant, just echoed your boorish claims thinking it was based in chivalry,” he paused. “At least, I hope that was her intent.” They stared at each other in pregnant silence.

“It matters not that mother gifted me said ceramic receptacle,” Thor said through gritted teeth. “What matters is, that my legend reaches far beyond the bifrost to bedchambers across nine realms, brother.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Whereas yours is rather more contained to the palace servant quarters.” “That was one instance,” Loki spat, “and she was the most comely chambermaid we’d ever had.” “I’m sure,” Thor huffed, rolling his eyes. He brought one fist in front of Loki’s face, flexing an ostentatious bulge of bicep. “I was too busy giving the princess of Nilfheim a shudder of my very special thunder to notice.” He smirked, delivering a slow wink to punctuate his prowess. “She was never the same afterwards, you know.” Loki stared open mouthed, before he burst into raucous laughter.

From across the court, Steve immediately stood with a snap; hands on his hips with the most uptight death glare Loki had ever seen. “This is tennis,” Steve squawked. “For gosh’s sakes, have some respect.”

Through tears of mirth, Loki saw you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. She recognises that Rogers is ridiculous, he thought. Good. That’s good.

Regaining his composure, Loki straightened. He smoothed his hair behind his ears, picking up the gauntlet his brother had carelessly cast down.

“Never the same. Quite.” he mused thoughtfully, collecting himself. “I can believe that your relentless dry-thrusting, lack of imagination and moans which sound suspiciously like the name of your talisman would scar her for life, yes.” “Leave Mjölnir out of this,” Thor snapped. Loki smirked, eyes wandering casually to where you sat. “The rumours are true then. Interesting.” he murmured slyly. Thor crossed and re-crossed his legs, the bleacher creaking beneath his weight. “She was perfectly satisfied,” the blonde grumbled, shifting his feet. Loki snorted. “Brother, you could not satisfy a woman if the key to unlocking her pleasure was written in parchment and propped upon her belly.” Thor stared, blankly. “Ah, yes – I forgot. A woman’s pleasure is not your forte is it,” Loki sneered, casting a quick glance towards his brother’s reddening face. “From what I heard, your attempts have been tragic at worst and laughable at best-” “Loki,” Thor warned, glancing anxiously at the people filling the seats behind them. But Loki continued, un-phased.

“Did you truly think you were to rub it with your chin?” He let out a harsh ooo, before sucking the air between his teeth.

“Those unfortunate women,” he drawled with feigned solemnity. “They didn’t want to hurt your feelings. ‘Asgard’s greatest lover’...please.” Thor tried to speak then thought better of it. Loki felt the glee begin to rise in his chest as he tasted victory in the air. “I felt moved for her when she hobbled from your chambers, poor thing. What did she cite for her impromptu departure, I wonder? Headache, was it?” He looked at his brother. The glazed look of bamboozled betrayal in his eyes told Loki that he was in fact, correct.

“Thankfully, I had just run a rather luxurious bath for myself which the lady found most soothing to aid her discomfort,” Loki purred, throwing his scarlet-faced sibling a knowing glance. “She was very grateful for my healing hands. And other anatomical attentions.”

Thor stared with slack-jawed disbelief.

The dark-haired god flicked his keen gaze towards you again. He let his eyes track up the skin of your bare calf, glinting in the afternoon sun. Supple, he pondered; thanking the Norns for the light breeze which rustled your skirt. On cue, you sipped from a large water bottle. Loki smirked.

“I was not aware that I was now a figure of such...ridicule. How times have changed.” Loki frowned as his moment of voyeurism was disturbed by Thor’s quiet mewl. With a sigh of resignation he swivelled, their knees touching. He reached for his brother’s hand, lowering his chin with sincerity in his eyes.

“Brother, that is not so” Loki said softly, “you have always been a figure of ridicule.”

Thor let out a shaky laugh, nodding. “I can always count on you to cheer me, brother” he said, patting Loki’s hand. Loki nodded once in acknowledgement. “Perhaps the next time you think yourself above me in the art of seduction, you will remember this conversation.”

“One can hope,” Thor chirped.

Loki rolled his eyes, retracting his hand. Polite clapping erupted as the first of the day’s players walked onto the court, waving at the crowds. He could feel Rogers suspicious stare burning into him from the other side of the grass, but he paid it no mind. “You truly think the odds are in my favour, brother?” Loki murmured thoughtfully, nodding subtly in your direction.

The two of them craned to catch a glimpse, the figure of his affections now half-obscured by a sea of lesser bodies. Your demure facial expression gave nothing away, but a pat on the shoulder from Natasha soon made you break into a dazzling smile. How she is not a goddess, I shall never know, Loki pondered; feeling his heart melt into his stomach and transform to a sea of butterflies. The redhead nudged her chin upwards, urging you to look up where the two gods stood. Staring. “Gods,” Loki hissed regretfully, continuing to clap like a fool. There was nothing else to be done. The boorishness of his brother had once again drawn the wrong kind of attention. But try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Perhaps she has some magic of her own, he mused.

Thor’s elbow jostled against his ribs, “I told you, Loki” he chortled, “god of chaos or not, I would say that the odds are most definitely in your favour where your lady is concerned.” “Truly?” Loki breathed, his heart beating faster as you gave him a small, bashful wave. “Truly,” Thor said, giving his brother’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Tags (if you'd rather stick with smutty stuff please let me know!) @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @goddessofwonderland @muddyorbsblr @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover

#loki fluff #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki and thor #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki gif #loki marvel #loki fanfic #jotun #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x female reader

[handumb]

shhhh..

~ shigaraki x f!reader

summary: you had been exceptionally dry towards your boyfriend this past week, and he couldn’t get the reason out of you over text, no matter how hard he tried. So he figured he’d pay you a little visit! :)

additional tags: reader has strict parents, eventual smut, forced to be quiet, established relationship, teasing, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, using panties as a gag, slight aftercare, no quirk au

a/n: this is my first time writing publicly on this account, so please feel free to leave tips or suggestions for me <3

word count: ~2.7k

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Family dinner was something that was obligatory in your household; it had been since the dawn of time. Unless you weren’t home, you had no excuse to not be sat at your dining room table with your parents. That leaves you where you are now, picking at your plate as you sit in uncomfortable silence with your mom and dad. You knew the reason why they were refraining from breaking the silence, in turn understanding that they were going to avoid the subject all together.

“So, when can I talk to my boyfriend again?” Your tone was slightly annoyed, as you placed your fork down on your plate and looked up across the table. You met your mother’s eyes, which looked to her husband, and back to you. She let out a sigh as she also set down her fork, bringing her napkin to the corner of her mouth.

“You know the answer. He’s bad for you, and we will not allow you two to see each other any longer,” she stated simply. She was right, you knew the answer, but you couldn’t stand being forced to be so distant with him. It killed you to not maintain the same personality with him online, let alone not seeing him for the past week and a half. You looked to your dad, but he avoided your gaze, not being one for confrontation. “What your mother said, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, throwing your hands up and letting them fall to your sides. “That’s not fair, it’s my life,” you said, hating that they thought they could control you like this. “No, it’s our life, and it will be for as long as you live under this roof. If you want to be independent, you can move out!” Your mother raised her voice, displaying her usual short temper. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care enough to meet him,” you retorted, propping your elbows up on the table and swinging your hands around as you spoke, as if it helped prove your point.

“Honey, please, just try to see it from our perspective,” your dad started, turning to face you. “You sneak around with him, he’s been in the custody of the police more than once, he doesn’t do good in school, the list goes on. He doesn’t seem to have a good influence on you. We’re doing this because we love you.” You looked at your dad in disbelief. Of course they used that excuse, it’s their favorite one to abuse.

“You will stop seeing each other, and that’s final.” Your mom stated with no room for arguing otherwise. Feeling your blood rush to your face, you made the executive decision to stand up from the table, and reside in your room, not wanting to say anything that would provoke further punishment from the both of them. “If you loved me, you would let me live my life however I damn well pleased. Fucking god.” The words left your lips as a soft curse as you stormed down the hall and toward your bedroom door. Opening it revealed a surprise that you definitely weren’t expecting.

There laid your boyfriend, Tomura, lazily on your bed, fiddling with some little trinket that was supposed to be on your desk. The sound of your door opening snapped him out of whatever he was doing, and he smiled, really it was more of a smirk, and got up off the bed to greet you.

“Hey sweet thing.” He cooed out. Your eyes were wide and your feet were frozen, not expecting him to literally be in your room.

You shut the door swiftly, and held your hands out in front of you, motioning for him to stop and explain himself. “How? Why??” You could barely get out before realizing your parents could probably still hear you. Before he even started talking, you put a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You walked past him, finding something to turn on as noise to drown you two out. You landed on just turning on your fan.

The fan ran for a second before you interrogated him on what he was doing here. “What are you doing? How did you get in?” You were right in front of him, whisper-yelling your inquiries at him. He started walking closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. You stepped back, until you reached your bed. You sat on it and looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

“Well, your window was unlocked, and I wanted to see why you’ve been ignoring me.” He stated with ease, a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders accompanying his words. You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, upset at yourself. You didn’t want to break the news like this, but you figured you had no other choice. You were mentally beating yourself up for what you were about to say.

“Tomura.. I think we have to.. uhm- stop seeing.. each other.” The words left your mouth with so much hesitation, dripping in sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, holding your gaze in your lap. Your head felt heavy as you tried to compose yourself, knowing he wouldn’t react well to the news.

You didn’t hear anything for a good while after you spoke, deciding to look to see what he was thinking. Except, you don’t see a different expression from what he was sporting earlier. He still had the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face when you first saw him. “That’s cute, angel.” He rasped out, grasping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He crawled to you on the bed, forcing you to lie down as he positioned himself on top of you, trapping you. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned down to kiss you, holding the side of your face with one of his hands. You matched his movements, bringing your hands up to either side of his head. You were lost in the feeling, missing this for the last week or so. You wanted it to be slow, in case this was actually the last time you saw him. He slowly prodded your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. You granted it happily, parting your lips as you felt your breathing slowly become heavier.

He leaned down, pressing himself more into you as an effect, and finally broke the kiss. The catching of breath was all that was heard between the two of you. He just smiled with half lidded eyes before dipping down to your jawline, eventually kissing his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his locks and tangling themselves in it. That’s when you realized that your parents were, in fact, still home. Most likely just down the hall from the both of you.

You panicked, trying to push Tomura’s face away from the warmth of your neck so that you wouldn’t get caught. “Wait, no, my parents are still home, I can’t-” You were cut off, your breath hitching, Tomura not budging as he continued his attack on your neck. “T-Tomura, I can’t, not now-“

“Yes, now,” he breathed out, finding a spot on your collarbone to sink his teeth into. He sucked on the spot afterwards, allowing as close to instant relief as he could, before dragging his tongue along it painfully slow. This elicited soft whimpers from your throat, foiling your plan of trying not to let too much noise slip. Sure, the fan helped with blocking it out, but it could only do so much before your parents got suspicious.

You eventually gave in, not being able to resist him with any bone in your body. He kissed down your collarbone, and made his way to your chest. He slid his hands up the shirt that was covering one of his favorite features about you, slowly raising it above your head and discarding it off to the side. He had a twinkle of something in his eyes, and licked his lips, before kissing and sucking all over your chest. His lips lingered on your nipple, sucking at it harshly, before bringing one of his free hands up to the other, making sure it didn’t feel neglected.

“So beautiful, all for me.” He said, making it increasingly harder to stay quiet, and you were very sure he knew that. You looked down at him, the sight one to remember, while soft moans were slipping past your lips. You bit your tongue in hopes of it helping cease the noises. He met your gaze, grinning.

Once he was done marking and biting your chest, he made his way down to your most intimate area. He started fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you while he did so. You looked down at him with pleading eyes, practically begging him not to do what he was about to. “No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to get caught?” You whisper to him, squirming. He only laughed softly in response before slowly pulling them down your legs; past your mid thighs, then your knees, then all the way down to your ankles, before wadding them up and shoving them into your mouth.

“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, princess,” he teased, honing in on his target, “I bet you can manage.” His tongue stuck out, licking up your slit, then going to focus on your clit. You moaned into your panties, the sensation euphoric. God, you missed this. You couldn’t fathom how you went without him for as long as you had.

He wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, lapping the rest of your pussy generously with his tongue. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but you couldn’t help how euphoric it felt. You continued moaning, fighting back as much as you could manage. You were squirming in his grip, either trying to break free from his hands or trying to grind against his face; you weren’t sure which you were attempting. All that washed over you was an intense amount of pleasure, urging you to reach a hand up to one of your tits, fondling it and tugging at your nipple.

Your breath became labored, the rise and fall of your chest attracting Tomura’s eyes as he looked up at the beautiful sight: you with your legs spread wide just for him, moaning out what he assumed was a mix of curses and his name as he made you feel heavenly. He took it one step further.

“Look at me,” he pulled away, waiting for you to meet his gaze, “look at me as I fuck you with my fingers.” He said, slowly inserting his fingers into your core, feeling your gummy insides squeeze around his digits. You lulled your head back against your pillow, the combination forcing you closer to your climax.

That was until the sound of knocking at your door interrupted the two of you, the room falling almost completely silent as one of your parents made their presence known. “Honey?” Your dad called out, talking through the door. You sat up as much as you could, not knowing what to do. Your eyes darted between Tomura and your door, frozen.

“I.. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He was lingering outside of your door. Tomura had a devilish grin on his face, slowly starting his movements up again. You looked down at him, seeing him slowly bring a finger up to his lips with a small “shh” emitting from them, dipping back down into your cunt, and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You squealed softly into your underwear, trying especially hard not to make any noise now that your dad was outside of your door.

“You know how mom can be sometimes, she just needs some downtime,” he continued, wildly unaware of what was going on just on the other side of the wood barrier between the two of you. You felt yourself slowly climb back up the steep hill of pleasure, your boyfriend's movements only getting more intense as he makes it his mission to get you to cum. You looked down at him, pleading eyes begging him to slow down, or at least make it easier for her to keep quiet. But, to no avail as he kept up his pace with his fingers, matching it with his tongue as he focused on your sweet spots.

“We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us? I bet it’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” he said. You squirmed, softly moaning, waiting for your dad to leave. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, wiggling your hips as you tried to force yourself into your orgasm. To your dad, you were just giving him the silent treatment, so he took that as his cue to retire back to his room. “Okay, goodnight honey,” your dad said, before leaving again.

Tomura rasped out a small laugh, before urging you on. “Come on, angel, you can do it. You’re doing so good.” He whispered in between your thighs, hitting the spots that make you see stars over and over, finally pushing you over the edge. You looked down at him one more time, before coming undone. You felt him hum in satisfaction as he tasted your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you were begging for him to take it easy on you. Your hand found refuge in his scalp, tangling themselves in the nest of light blue locks.

With one last lap of his tongue around your cunt, he pulled away, a smile plastered on his face as he licked his fingers clean. Your face was slightly flushed as you smiled back at him, your chest rhythmically rising and falling. He crawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body. You started massaging his scalp with one of your hands, and rubbed his back with the other. You heard him mumble out, “Are you actually going to follow through? With the thing you brought up earlier?” You heard his tone; he sounded defeated.

You cup his face in your hands, turning it to face your own. “Of course not. My parents have been on me about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You looked away for a moment, then back at him. “But, that’s not to say that I won’t still ignore you, seeing this is what happens when I do,” you teased, a smirk on your face. Tomura scoffed, shaking his head and laying it back down on your chest.

After a long, silent moment, Tomura propped himself up. “I think I should go. Your parents will kill both of us if they found out I was here,” he said, moving towards the window to open it up again. “Aww, please, stay just a little longer.. Please?” You pleaded, sitting up and following him out of bed covering yourself with a nearby blanket. He turned to face you, hands moving from the window to your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. You can count on that,” he said, half of his face illuminated by the dim light of the moon. He leaned down, your lips interlocking with his one last time, before he turned to escape through the window.

“Wait!” You called out to him, leaning out the window. He turned to meet you, pulling his hood up. “Uhm- text me when you get home. Maybe I can sneak off to see you next time,” you said, a small dust of pink on your cheeks as you spoke. You heard him let out a small laugh as he nodded up to you, running off into the night, leaving you up in your room for the rest of the time being.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura smut #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #first post #i’m nervous #please don’t be mean to me #haha

[kattyee]

Feeling like a fool

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem! Reader

tw: unrequited romance, heartbroken

Summary: You and Lucifer started dating two years after Lilith left, you loved each other, you loved him, he loves you, right?... You didn't know it, until she returned, the love of his life, his Lilith.

Part I Part II Final Part

Why? You can't help but feel stupid, like a fool. You thought he finally loved you, that he wanted you. Was that all you were to him? Someone to distract him from his wife's abandonment? You felt so stupid, so much so that you couldn't help but shed tears, begging him to stay, to don’t leave you...

“Lucifer, please…” she says with tears in his eyes, oh, those eyes, those eyes that according to him were the most beautiful, that according to him he loved more than his own life.

He only looks at her out of the corner of his eye, while he takes the hand of Lilith, his beloved, the one who returned for her husband after disappearing. What about her? The one who stayed with him, the one who accompanied him at all times, the one who did not abandon him...

"Leave." Luicifer turns around, but before he can start walking (y/n) grabs his arm. “Lucifer, please… don't leave me, I-I love you, please don't leave…”

Lucifer keep silent while Lilith begins to speak. “What don't you understand, fool? He does not love you, he has never loved you, Yours have always been me. Do you think if I hadn't left he would have chosen you? He wouldn't even have looked at you. Now get out of my house once and for all, go back to the streets where you came from, to the garbage dump, darling.”

She looks down “But what about us? Our moments together, everything we went through, it was all a damn lie?! Everything you promised me, everything you swore?! Liar!!" She loses all control when she sees how the person who was supposed to be her partner left her for her past love. “Listen, our thing was never anything serious, you know? It was a... just a hobby, okay? Now please go…” points towards the door with his finger.

…

Silence, that's all there is in the room. She lets go of his shoulder and walks towards the door, once outside she starts running. “I'm a fool, I'm a fucking stupid fool! Because? Why do I still have this fucking luck? I'm always the fool..."

Empty… all these years, all so that he would leave you as soon as he had the chance, you reached an alley you sat on the ground while hugging your legs and crying harder. After all, this was where you belonged, right? To the shadows, to the trash. You cried all night… “I feel like a fool for falling in love with you…”

Note: Hello! This is Kattie, I know it has some errors, but since I started today I didn't want to leave the blog empty. Tomorrow I will correct the grammatical errors, spelling errors and details of the fic since today I will go to sleep because it is very late, haha. I hope you liked it, good night🤍

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hotel hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer x reader #kattyee #lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer #hotel hazbin x reader

[munariplans]

is there someone else? pt.2 | n. romanoff

synopsis: part 2 to is there someone else? , wherein reader navigates her feelings for both natasha and wanda, and ultimately makes a choice.

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 9.6k words

read part 1 and part 3 here.

masterlist

“are you happy?” lately, those words came out a lot from the people around you. steve asking you about your relationship with natasha the night she had not only disobeyed your orders on a mission, but also berated you in front of the others. wanda asking if you were really going to stay with natasha long-term in the quinjet home from the night she almost kissed you. and now, natasha asking if you were happy about her pregnancy. 

you had shrugged to steve then, clutching your bleeding side and letting the medical bay doctors examine your wound, using the excuse of the injury to shrug him off. as happy as i can be, you said. 

for wanda, you had only shook your head, honestly replying that you weren’t, and you knew natasha wasn’t either, but you were too scared to ask for a divorce and she was still willing to try for something you wanted to give up at. and then, you had to reinforce that you still couldn’t start anything new with wanda, bitterly.

Now, with Natasha in your lap and her hands cradling your jaw, years of vulnerability, insecurity, and anxiousness built up into the reflection behind her eyes, you found it hard to say anything at all. Pregnancy was supposed to be something the both of you had wanted; for nearly a year now, and you couldn’t believe that your relationship had soured to a point where the woman you loved was afraid of your reaction to finally getting what you wanted. You felt terrible.

You evaded Natasha’s question entirely. All you could reply with was, “How many weeks?”

She noticed, but as you readjusted her on your lap, relieving the weight off of your injured ribs; she could only smile sadly. “I just found out on our anniversary, while you were away. Probably two, three weeks?”

“Okay.” Natasha watched you nod. This was the first time in weeks she had had her body pressed up against yours, holding onto your embrace and having your arms around her, and she was so afraid the moment was going to be gone so soon. 

“So does that mean…” she searched your eyes, “...We’re okay? We’re back together…?”

You broke eye contact, staring off into space for a while. The almost-kiss, the relief you felt when you thought Natasha was going to end things, the life you imagined with someone else. It was almost as if you could physically feel all of it; love and control, slipping away from you. 

You contemplated telling Natasha of Wanda’s feelings. But then everything else, the repercussions, the anguish, the what-ifs, would just be too much; and you know the woman was hoping for a positive reaction from you. You would keep Wanda’s secret, and safety, from your wife, for as long as you could in exchange for the possibility of happiness you could still share with Natasha. 

In response, you brought her in for a kiss, smiling as best as you could to alleviate her worries. “Of course. For the baby, and for the woman I love, of course.”

Natasha giggled in happiness, bringing your hand to rest along her tummy, and your heart squeezed with guilt at the joy written all over her face.

–

“Is this your first time?” Natasha’s gynaecologist asked, staring you up and down while your wife changed back from her hospital gown. You felt the scrutiny under her stare, and subconsciously straightened your posture. 

Nodding, you were aware your arms were crossed in defence of yourself. She turned around as Natasha reappeared to ask you for help with her zipper, and when you came back out, she nonchalantly passed the comment of, “You don’t look too happy about it.”

Your heart sank, trying to laugh off the hurt with, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged, pointing her clipboard to the direction of Natasha’s changing room. “That woman in there is a medical miracle. To be able to get pregnant under her circumstances, and considering she isn’t so young, I just thought…you would be more ecstatic.”

“You a shrink before becoming a gynaecologist, doctor?”

“Please,” she laughed, “Psychology is the furthest thing I wanted to touch in medical school. I just deduced from the happiness on her face, and the lack thereof, on yours. But what do I know, right? I’m just your doctor.”

“Right.”

The both of you watched as Natasha came out, and while she thanked the nurses and prepared to leave, the doctor leaned in to you again. “Is there anything I should know, ma’am? I’m only looking out for the mother and baby, and I’m working for their best interests, not mine or yours.”

You gave her a weird look, and a non-commital grunt as you signed the papers, but she was strangely perceptive. “If there’s someone else out there, someone waiting for you that is not her, as I have seen with many other partners before, I always suggest for you to end it. For the sake of both of them now, not just her.”

You found yourself hovering over Wanda’s contact on the drive home, the urge to call her almost instinctual. 

– 

After the doctor’s appointment, you had cooked Natasha lunch; with her choosing to pack and eat it out in the field, where the others were having a Sports Day. She was content enough just watching them, but out of the corner of her eye, she could spot you hunched over, elbows on your knees, a slight resigned look of misery on your face. To any other person, it could have just looked like you were bored, or tired, but Natasha had been seeing those expressions so frequently lately; she had deduced what they meant herself. Those expressions only came up when you were longing to spend time with anyone but her. 

“You can still join them, you know?” Natasha chimed in, “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind you subbing in for him. Kid looks exhausted.”

She remembered all the times she held you back; the life you had chosen to stay with her, instead of the life you could have had if you hadn’t married her. Even before the strain in your marriage, before her insecurities with Wanda entered the picture, Natasha often struggled to accept the fact that you chose her, out of everyone and everything. 

Giving up a promotion as Head of the new STRIKE team because it would relocate you to somewhere in the mountains of Switzerland, being the one to hold Clint’s arrow back from that one faithful mission, even standing up to Fury and the rest of the executive directors who held a shadow of a doubt towards her loyalty when she had run off after the events of what Tony called Civil War; she found it hard to imagine anyone else willing to do a shred of those things for her. 

“I hardly know the game standings by now.” You said, rubbing your eyes from exhaustion. “There’s no point.” 

Natasha wanted to protest, but your hand reached out to hers, albeit in an attempt to comfort her and to ask her to not fight you on it, but your touch felt cold and foreign. Then, it was when she noticed who your eyes had been on for the whole game. 

She wondered if you would have been happier if you hadn’t been with her at all. If you had been there, playing the game against Wanda, celebrating your team’s win with and for her. Instead, here you were, right beside her, eyes tired from staying up all night to help her through her bouts of nausea, making warm drinks and small snacks for her to still nourish herself, staying back from the Sports Day you were so looking forward to for the past few weeks just to accompany her to the doctor’s. She wondered if the small scan she was planning to put up by her bedside, and you planned to keep in your wallet, even gave you the same amount of joy it gave her. 

When she had finished her meal, she noticed you hadn't even touched yours. 

– 

“Just go for it.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“Please go,” Natasha begged, already having her hands around your shoulders, trying to get you to get up from the bed. “I already have your dress picked out for you, you just have to get dressed and head down.”

You groaned, playfully digging your head deeper into the pillow as Natasha tried to lift you up. For a pregnant woman, albeit still in her early days of her first trimester, she was much stronger than you thought she was. As she pulled you into a sitting position, you laid your head against her midriff, arms around her waist. 

“I’ll be fine here alone, you know,” she assured, but you shook your head against her body. 

“No. What if another Ultron-esque invasion happens again? And I won’t be here to protect you?” 

Natasha chuckled, threading her fingers through your hair. “I can protect myself. Have you forgotten I was an assassin and double agent? Besides, we have Vision now, too. All thanks to Ultron.”

You looked up to her, doubt still clouding your features, but Natasha was adamant. “Go. How many parties have you missed because of me? Just because I’ve been advised not to have too much fun doesn’t mean you have to as well. Do it for me, please?”

She smiled when you finally stood up, giving the black halter gown a second look. 

–

“Have fun,” she said, giving you a peck on the cheek. The sentence had only been half-truthful. 

I love you too much to keep you shackled here with me; but I sincerely hope that you don’t find someone else who will make you realise you deserve better tonight. 

She watched you go, Clint sticking by your side and turning around as you both entered the lift, giving her a sympathetic look. He knew all too well of her feelings tonight; and had promised to look out for you too Natasha knew it was the hormones; but it hurt her so much to watch you leave that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes she had tried to keep down for the night. 

–

You should have guessed that a party organised for Pepper’s birthday would involve Tony pulling all of the stops; falling short of nothing but Great Gatsby-esque glamour and celebrations. Twice a dancer had tried their hardest to pull you to the dance floor with them, sparkling champagne towers in hand and live jazz ensembles all around the venue. 

“Come on, you haven’t drank in months, you’re holding back now?!” An agent from your academy days, his name now fuzzy with the alcohol in your system, roared as he tipped back yet another shot of liquor into your mouth, the taste burning your throat. 

You pushed back his bottle, giving yourself time to regain your composure. “My wife’s not feeling so good, I can’t–go home drunk–”

“Nat’ll understand, don’t worry so much,” he raised to tip the bottle again, your world spinning now, but was abruptly pulled back. He yelped, falling back on the sofa. 

Suddenly, lithe arms were around your waist, pulling you away from the agent. In your drunken haze, you reached out to touch the face of who it was, but the person was already pulling you away, further and further from the loud lights and music. 

Fresh air hit your cheeks as the balcony door opened, and you finally recognised the shoes that had been dragging you throughout the party. 

“Wanda.”

“I’ve got you,” she helped you sit against the wall of the tiny space protruding from her own room, and closed the doors right after, “You’re safe with me.”

You grinned, remembering Natasha’s words earlier. “Have you forgotten I was an assassin and double agent?”

“You’re neither of those things when you’re wasted.” Wanda took the seat beside you, pressing her body against yours to ensure you didn’t fall over. You laughed against her shoulder, letting the stars in your vision fizzle out before you could see her again. 

Wanda smelled like cinnamon and flowers, the smell slowly becoming more and more familiar to you. She let you get your bearings together for a few minutes, before readjusting yourself to lean your head against the wall instead. Choosing not to speak, Wanda wanted to enjoy the first time in weeks the two of you had been alone. Ever since that mission; ever since that night. 

Finally, you sighed, breaking the silence and turning to her, your eyes glassy and red. “I had–have–feelings for you.”

She was about to reply, to say something along the lines of expressing her relief, or adoration, for you, when you put a hand up, continuing with, “But I cannot act on them, you and I know why. I’m not sure if what I feel for you is love, probably something close to it, but I know what I feel for Natasha. And I cannot have that with you.  Wanda, you have been here for me through one of the toughest few months of my life, and for it I am eternally grateful. But I also have a duty and responsibility as a wife for Natasha. Of course, you have shown me acceptance and love, butterflies and excitement for the future, I cannot deny that, but I cannot be what you want, what you need. And I refuse to string you along for the possibility of me leaving my wife, Wanda, you deserve so much better.”

Lowering your gaze to your lap, Wanda watched as you professed, “I’m sure you know Natasha and I have been trying for a baby for a while now.”

“Clint told me it’s been more than a year.” 

Nodding, you looked back up, steeling yourself. “Well, we’re finally successful. Natasha’s pregnant.” 

Wanda’s mouth fell into an O shape, half in realisation, half in surprise. The arm around your shoulders faltered, and you carefully let it drop back to her side. “Oh.” 

“I know you don’t know how to feel,” you spoke up, “And I don’t expect you to be happy for me, for us. But I am telling you this, now, because I am choosing…to be responsible. For the child, more than anything else. I love Natasha, and perhaps you too, but the child takes priority over my own feelings, my own heart. Natasha needs me now more than ever, and while it will take time, I’m sure, to repair or even go back to how we once were, I can’t abandon her, Wanda. I need to stay with Natasha.” 

Your hands were cold as you explained, desperately, to the woman before you. Never one to cry, you hated that there were tears in the back of your eyes this time, watching Wanda’s expression turn from shock, to disappointment, and finally, a brave front, smiling and nodding sadly at you. 

“I really am sorry; for perhaps leading you on, for making you feel things I shouldn’t have expressed. And I do treasure you, so very much, Wanda, but I cannot leave my wife, my marriage, and now my child too, for you.” 

But Wanda only reached out for your hand then, the warmth in her touch your final leap towards sobriety for the night. “I understand.” 

She saw your eyebrows furrow for a minute, before asking, “You do?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, and the sinking of her heart, Wanda nodded. “I knew it was stupid anyway, my feelings for you. You were married, and while I have only admired you from afar all these years, wishing I could be her, having your kindness and bravery to come home to every night, I thought…I thought I had a chance. And when I saw just how badly Natasha was treating you, it sparked something in me too; I was angry and bitter, I knew you deserved better, but I realise that better is not me. It’s still her, and will always be her. You could have been my Romeo for all I cared, but at the end of the day, I always knew Natasha was your Juliet, no matter what.” 

Your hand squeezed over Wanda’s one, her confession of your unrequited love tugging at the guilt in your heartstrings. “To be fair, in another life, we could’ve really given this a shot. I think your love would’ve come back; in a different form, or different circumstances, and I would’ve been there to love you back. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Wanda laughed, a wet chortle that seemed much too joyful for her current state; red faced and tears streaming down her face, “Just that is enough, I think. Knowing you felt a fraction of what I did for you for years, the hope, the longing, of it all. I need to let you go, give up your ghost beside me, and while it isn’t going to be easy, I hope at least the process is kind.” 

“In another life.” She confirmed, letting you rub away the tear tracks on her cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss on them as the alcohol and your lips both burned the skin they landed on. “And I’m happy for you, truly. Congratulations to you and Natasha on the baby.” 

-

Hungover and the remnants of the previous night’s bash still pounding loudly in his head, Tony Stark was not looking forward to the meeting he had forgotten was organised the morning after Pepper’s party. He had wanted to only sit in, listen, glower at righteous Steve Rogers with no alcohol in his system explain the weekly objectives for the team, and head back. No holdups, no interferences. His head was killing him.

But as he entered through the double glass doors of the meeting room, the scene that greeted him only made his headache worse. 

Natasha was absolutely fuming; stood in front of the team presenting her findings for the week, arms crossed. Her vision was glaring directly at you, and so was everyone else’s. 

You, on the other hand, were sprawled out at the furthest chair in the back, staring back at her and not backing down. 

“Whoa,” Tony broke the silence in the room, “What is this really weird energy that I just walked into?”

It was meant to be a joke, cutting through the tension and to get someone to hopefully fill him up to speed on yet another argument between the two of you, but Natasha then diverted her anger towards him, and Tony knew the moment he screwed up. Tears welled behind the Black Widow’s eyes, and she swiped at them furiously as a choked sob left her, bumping into his shoulder as she immediately rushed out of the room. 

“I went through with the report for her insubordination,” you explained, when everyone suddenly turned their attention back to you, “Fury suspended her for two weeks.”

“Really?” Steve cut in, but you held your hand up before he could continue.

“It wasn’t because I purposely wanted to be a dick, or to report my own wife for betraying my orders, but the fact that she directly put herself in a line of fire when we had obviously discussed and agreed upon not doing it, in front of newer agents on the team, what kind of example would we be setting for the new guys?”

“Don’t you think it’s too much?” Clint chided, “I mean, I’m pretty sure Nat knows what she’s doing. And your own wife, for Christ sake…”

“No, but come on,” you straightened, outstretching your hands in explanation, “This was a matter of team safety! If we had let it slide–”

“–You let it slide when you and Barton were supposed to take her out on that one mission on the KGB. And look where we are now.” Steve said, and he hit a sore spot.

You bit your tongue, a comment that would have not been the nicest begging to slip out of your lips, when Tony finally sighed. He turned to you, and in a tone more serious than he had ever been, asked, “Is there something else that you are unhappy with? About Romanoff?” 

He continued. “I don’t want to point fingers or say that we’re all against you here. I mean, you’re one of us, you always have been, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that things… haven't been the same recently. Is everything okay between you and Natasha?” 

You knew what he was implying. “You’re saying I’m ruining the dynamic of the team.”

“Not all the blame is on you, but…” Tony gulped, nodding to replace his answer. 

–

“How about a honeymoon?” Fury asked, watching you pace about his office. You had taken particular interest in the minimal decorations on his shelf, refusing to make direct eye contact with him for the past hour. 

“I doubt she’d want to go anywhere remotely far with me. Should see the mountain of pillows she builds between us each night; it seems like pregnancy’s only made her hate me even more.” Finding comfort on the sofa right  across from him, you leaned your head back in the presence of your closest friend in the compound. Only Fury knew of her pregnancy, with you and Natasha agreeing to keep it private from the others until the time was right. 

He shrugged. “You guys never had a honeymoon, and I just felt it was mostly my fault, is all.”

“She needed a green card to escape the KGB, I was single, we got married with you as the only witness out of convenience, not a big deal, really,” you quipped, “In a way, you played matchmaker for us even early on.”

“An arranged marriage works wonders for my two coldest assassins, right?” 

“We’re pregnant now, so there’s your answer. Not the most happy, or successful, of marriages, but I’ll give you that, Nick.”

But the man was still your boss, as he cruelly reminded you, handing you your resignation papers for the next three months. 

“Three months; the first trimester, that’s it. Just you and her, space to sort out your marital problems and get back together with us again. I can’t have you ruining the team more than you have, Agent. It worked for Clint and Laura, and Tony and Pepper, I have to have you and Natasha work too.”

He turned to leave, another meeting calling out for him in the next moment, but not before he stopped at the door, and uttered words you had been dreading to hear the whole week.

“And for God’s sake, it’s your wife, Agent. You have every right to be angry at her for insubordination, or how she’s been treating you these few months, but you forget so conveniently that she’s pregnant; something so foreign to someone like her. You tell me you gave up Wanda for her, but that’s not noble, it was only right. 

Hold her responsible, tell her what’s been bothering you, and work through it. No more running. She needs you as much as you need her. You can’t treat this like any other mission; have some heart and take care of her, will you?”

–

Before leaving, Clint had asked to see you one last time. In the shooting range, where he shot arrows and you watched, he tried to convince you to see things from Natasha’s point of view. 

“I mean, just try to see things from her perspective, you know? When Laura and I were having problems–”

“–Clint, I didn’t really come here for a lecture.”

An arrow whizzed past your head, but Clint’s intimidation did not make you flinch. “That’s the problem. You don’t listen, you never do.”

He sighed, letting another one fly. “You need to listen, to let Natasha speak and give her space to tell you what’s really bothering her. You know how she is, it’s not easy for her to open up about her problems; ever so headstrong.”

“And if you want a shot at getting back to what you two were before this…before all of this…you should treat her like such; do the little things. They matter. Take her out on a date once in a while, give her flowers, treat her like the queen she is to you. I’m not Natasha, and I’m not the most privy to your relationship, but I do know your kindness, and the patience you gave her was ultimately what led her to fall in love with you too. I’m sure she’d still like to see that side of you by her side for the rest of her life.”

Out of the corner of Clint’s eye, he saw you hold your fist to your throat, swallowing the lump that was trying to form. When you got up and left without another word, he knew you were suppressing the tears that threatened to fall in front of him. 

–

Natasha opted to wait by the car while you said temporary goodbyes to the rest of the team, and you didn’t fail to catch the hurt in her eyes, still, when Wanda reached in to pull you for a hug too. She had smiled at you, but you kept the hug brief and uttered a see you right after, rushing to Natasha’s side in a hurry. 

You held her hand as you walked up to the car together, and when the cool breeze of the wind hit her cheeks, Natasha felt you let go for a brief moment, only to feel the warmth of your sweater enveloping her in the next. With the smell of you flooding her senses, Natasha felt her cheeks warm too, as you grinned.

“You still look so tiny in it.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you open the car door for her. “Shut up, it’s oversized on you too.” 

But her annoyance was feigned, appreciation genuine, as she reached out for your hand again in the car, never letting go of it throughout your drive to the remote cabin.

–

The first night of your getaway together, you caught Natasha placing a hand on her lower abdomen as she checked herself out in the mirror of your bedroom. She turned left, then right, and scrutinised her body even further. A frown etched on her face, you could tell something was bothering her.

“Dinner’s ready.” She startled hearing your voice, hurriedly pulling her top back down, but she knew you had already seen enough. 

Leaning against the wall, you offered her a smile, a space to tell you what was wrong. In any other circumstance, Natasha would have tried to avoid the topic altogether, but she knew you would not let it go without her telling you. 

“It just feels unreal,” she managed, “Still. That I’m pregnant. That we’re having a baby. I somehow still think my body is lying to me, the doctors are lying to me. Some sick prank that the universe is playing on me.”

When she looked over at you, your face was hidden by the shadows from the door, and her worry instantly crept back. “I mean, it’s stupid–”

“–It’s not stupid to me.” Suddenly, the embrace of your arms around her body was all her mind registered, as her own arms wrapped around yours back. 

Holding her tight, you pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair, murmuring, “It’s not stupid, and it’s real, Natasha. I know you’re so used to all this self-doubt, and rejection, even from your own body, but it’s real. This is real, and you are amazing. You are going to bring life into this world, and god forbid if I won’t be here with you for it too.”

You coaxed her back to the dining room slowly, wiping the tear tracks on her cheek as she followed after you. At dinner, you caught her eyeing another serving of the pasta, but shamefully looking away as she remembered what it would mean for her weight, which was already steadily rising. 

Natasha watched you scoop a small helping for yourself, and offering her the large portion of the remainder of the pasta. I don’t want it to go to waste, you had said as nonchalantly as you could, accompanying her as she blissfully took another forkful of her replenished plate. 

You played the music on the turntable that night, while Natasha insisted on doing the dishes. Watching her then, the music flowing through her veins and the soft sway of her hips as she moved to the rhythm, an almost foreign, faintly familiar feeling of butterflies began to bloom in your stomach again. 

–

The next morning, when the pasta resurfaced in the form of vomit through Natasha’s morning sickness, you were there to hold her hair back, sleepily rubbing her own back and reassuring her that she was going to be okay. 

Natasha teared up at the discomfort, but you were there to help her wash up, making a hot drink for her before lulling her back to sleep to properly rest. And while she slept, you sneaked off to prepare breakfast for her. 

When you returned, Natasha was clutching the shirt you slept in, nuzzling her nose into it for comfort and whispering your name in her sleep. 

–

A week into the start of your new life together, you were gardening in the small patch overlooking the fields outside, while Natasha sat and watched you while she did paperwork for the team. It was the first full week in she had not lashed out, and you had not avoided her in anger and retaliation, and as she felt her hand subconsciously lay on her stomach again, she whispered a thanks to the baby not yet showing for the newfound relationship they had helped establish for the both of you. 

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” She asked, while you laid down fresh soil for the vegetables. 

You shrugged. “The sunflowers may need repotting, we have a problem with one of the hinges from the bathroom door, so I’ll be fixing that, and…” you trailed off, before remembering, “...I can make you that smoothie Clint was telling us about, the one he made for Laura when she wasn’t feeling so good. The kale is almost ripe.”

It was the first infliction that made Natasha second-guess your words for the first time in a while. “That sounds disgusting.”

She had expected you to laugh it off, or even dismiss it altogether as a joke, but you put down your hand shovel then, and paused, staring into the fields beyond. “It’s good for you, and the baby. Extra nutrition on top of your prenatals can’t hurt.”

“I’m not that weak, though, to be needing that,” Natasha rebutted, “Laura only needed it because she had some issues with Nathaniel, I’m perfectly fine with our baby.”

When you failed to answer immediately, Natasha sat straighter, voice louder, “Are you saying I’m not strong enough to carry this baby without a crutch? That I need to drink nutritional smoothies and take extra medication and precautions just so I don’t fuck this all up for you?”

You turned around this time, the same look you always had when she sparked yet another heated debate adorned, the same look Natasha had not missed seeing at all. 

“I never said that. God, Nat, I just wanted to do a nice gesture, to make sure you’re not missing out on any nutrition, that’s all. If you didn’t want it you could’ve just said so.”

With a sigh, you moved to keep your gardening tools, the mood to continue clearly ruined, and a familiar feeling of dread and fear rose within Natasha. Even if you were there with her, even if she knew you were only going inside to clear your head, it looked all too similar to you leaving her all over again. The resigned look on your face, the heaviness in your steps, Natasha had dreamed too many times of this scenario unfolding. 

“Wait!” She stopped you from opening the door and going in, suddenly embracing you from the back and holding tight. You made a move to protest, but her grip was firm, tears already soaking the back of your shirt. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered, hoping you would understand, “I’m so sorry. I was horrible.”

Your heartbeat palpable to her ears, Natasha then felt you slowly let go of the door handle, and brought your arms over hers. “It’s okay, Nat.” 

“You just wanted to take care of me, and I—I–”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “Happens.” 

You invited her back inside, and let her spend the rest of the day in your arms to reassure her of any insecurities you knew had cropped up during the small altercation the both of you just had. 

–

“I see that relations between the two of you are better.” Once again, Natasha’s gynaecologist pointed out to you, as you nodded, then shrugged. 

“I guess.” 

The woman offered you a sympathetic smile. “It’s a good thing. I’m happy for you. She looks happier, as well.” 

Almost two months into her pregnancy then, you knew the few times you had been leaving the cabin and visiting the hospital had been a little unnerving for Natasha, considering her own past and job history. So for the gynaecologist to be able to see past the brave front she put on, past her own worries and insecurities about her own body carrying the child, you knew something in her had shifted as well. 

With a everything’s healthy and an all-clear to leave, Natasha was more than glad to leave and gawk over the new scan provided from the visit. But even through her smile and supposed excitement of your suggestion to catch a film at the cinema the previous night, you knew she was tired; she had almost fallen asleep in the waiting room while you paid, her footsteps were a little heavier, and she had leaned her head on your shoulder while the both of you were in the lift, in public. Natasha was never one to showcase her weaknesses in public. 

So you made the first move. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

She held your hand over the console in the car, and with eyelids drooping, still shook her head. “No, it’s supposed to be a date…a movie date. I wanna go.”

With the traffic light red, you brought her hand to your lips, pressing a feather kiss before returning it to her side. “You’re exhausted, Nat. We can still go tomorrow, but for today, let’s go home, okay? I’ll put on another film on the TV, make homemade popcorn, and we can make a blanket fort, just like back at the compound.”

Natasha felt that she didn’t deserve you at all, as she nodded gratefully then, and tiredly.

–

The comforting scent of Natasha’s shampoo was all that occupied your senses, as she laid in your arms, softly snoring halfway into the film. With a small grin attached to your face, you whispered a I told you so into her hair and pulled the blanket further to keep her warm.  

When the credits began to roll, she finally stirred again, and mumbled, “That was a good film. I liked it.”

You decided to keep her secrets to yourself, and wiped away the little bit of drool on her chin. “Me too.” 

Natasha took a little longer to regain her surroundings, as you got up to start on lunch. But even as her stomach rumbled, she had to control herself from the nausea that washed through her as she watched you begin chopping the vegetables.

You noticed her watching, and paused for a minute. “Yes, Nat?”

But Natasha didn’t want to pose as a bother. “Nothing. I’m hungry too.”

However, when the final plate was served in front of her and you were busy with the garnishes, the nausea returned, and you saw her physically recoil to prevent herself from retching this time. Slightly offended, you had pulled the plate back, but Natasha refused to let you do so.

“It’s–” You had moved to look for something else for her, but Natasha knew she was wasting your efforts if she let up. 

“No, I’ll eat it, I just…” she took a moment to gather herself, “...I’ll be fine.”

But when even a few bites proved difficult for her, she was grateful that you took the plate away this time, sitting down by her side to rub her back. “Nat, tell me what’s wrong.”

Shamefully, she hid her face in your shoulder, and finally mumbled, “I want mac and cheese. Baby too.”

She had expected you to let out an irritated sigh, or even lecture her on wasting food and opting for something unhealthy that she would never crave for in the compound, but instead, you let out a soft chuckle, and kissed her cheek. 

“You’re not mad?” She asked, a little surprised. 

“No, why would I be?” You replied, getting up to find the car keys. “But you should’ve said it earlier, my love. Now you’re hungry and it’s a little bit of a drive away to the grocery store.”

But Natasha was more than happy to follow, despite your protests for her to rest at home, and with the both of you poring over the mac and cheese box options in the grocery store, the butterflies in her stomach felt like they were going to explode each time your hand brushed over hers in reassurance. 

– 

But life was never so fair, or smooth sailing. Life in the cabin had not been a magic solution to yours and Natasha’s problems, and you were growing weary of said problems being carried over wherever you went, too.

The first strike had been on one of the busiest nights for SHIELD Intelligence. One of the sectors had been compromised, everyone was working overtime to recover any lost intelligence, and of all things you struggled with, the shitty internet connection was your biggest obstacle. 

Your calls with Maria and the team back at the compound were choppy, your emails were not sending through, and the frustration was creeping in. You had been cooped up in the study for the better part of the day, and Natasha had been left out of every single meeting because Maria had simply wanted her to rest. 

So of course you had your wife breathing down your neck as well, asking for updates every hour on the team’s progress. But even as a workaholic as she is, Natasha thought it was more than reasonable to think you were working too much; at breakfast you had received your first call from Fury, then at lunch you skipped eating with her to fix a bug in the team’s code, and even at dinner, when she wanted to finally have a proper conversation with you about her day, you were on a conference call with Maria again. 

By one in the morning, where you were sending emergency emails for backup, Natasha entered your study again, in a nightgown that was just a little too revealing and light makeup to coax you to bed, but you did not spare one look at her as you shrugged her off with, “Not now, Nat.” 

“You’re working too much,” she tried to drape her body over yours, but you only reclined the seat and pushed her off gently. “Feels like you disappeared all day today.”

“Yeah, well, Maria’s gotten me on a tight leash,” you replied, ignoring her sighing and standing back at the door, “I’ll be lucky if we can even get this done by the morning.” 

Natasha called out your name once, then twice, and by the third, you snapped with, “Busy, Nat! Please! Would you go away, or go to sleep first? I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me!”

You only realised the severity of your words a few seconds after it left your mouth, as you then looked up at Natasha, who had tears in her eyes, and a warm cup of tea fixed for you, standing by the doorway again. Guilt needled into your heart, but she was already retreating to the bedroom by the time you tried to stand. 

“Wait, Nat–” 

“–Save it. I’m going to bed.” Her tone cold and unnerving, you would have almost missed the sniffle in her voice. Sighing, you returned to the call with Maria while Natasha beat herself up for letting her usually well-concealed emotions appear in front of you. Her and her stupid hormones.

But the guilt never really went away, and your focus never returned for the night. Whatever the chief of security was rambling about suddenly didn’t make sense, your emails were only piling higher and higher, and Maria knew the moment you started another call with her barely an hour later of what you were going to ask of her. 

“I have to go, Maria, I’m sorry. I’ll finish this tomorrow.”

“No, no,” Maria tried reasoning, but you were already shutting down your computer, “If you leave us now, I am never going to forgive you, Agent!” 

But her threats fell on deaf ears, as you quickly muttered another apology, and ended the call. Leaving your phone in the study to beep the entire night, you knew you were placing more trust in Maria and the team’s abilities than before you left for the cabin, and you knew somewhere along the line, your mind had made up of the shift in priorities, too. 

Natasha felt your arms underneath her sleeping figure soon after, and at the expense of Maria’s wrath in the morning, you slid in bed with her. She tried pushing you away, but her body worked against her as she practically melted into you while you whispered murmurs of apology into her skin. You were upset, and had thought her reaction was a little unwarranted, but chose not to speak of it. 

She won this time. 

– 

The second strike came a week after the first. The compromise had spread to other areas of SHIELD as well, and while you tried as best as you could to help out from the cabin, you knew you had to prioritise Natasha and the baby as well. 

Without much space for creativity or freedom to invent new recipes, you knew you had been preparing the same repetition of healthier, simpler meals for Natasha. And while she had never been a picky eater, pregnancy had drastically shifted her palate and tastes for food. 

So when she found you cooking a variation of whatever vegetable, stock, and rice you had left in the fridge for the third day in a row, she thought it was more than fair to turn up her nose and let out a I’m tired of that to you. 

But the nearest diner and pizza places were over an hour away, and you did not like Natasha eating so many of the mac and cheese boxes she had bought in bulk so often. So you replied with a, “It’s all we have, we’d have to make do for the rest of the week, I think.”

You didn’t miss the groan in her throat as she threw her hands in the air, before throwing herself onto the sofa. “Then I’m not eating. I can’t stomach that.”

“Natasha, don't be childish.” You reasoned, “You can’t not eat.”

You were met with a middle finger in the air then, and while you would have usually let it go, attribute it to pregnancy side effects and whatever that came along with it, you were tired, and hung out dry from work. And a middle finger in the air from the one person you were stuck with, who seemed like they had a problem with almost everything you did, was too much for you then. 

“Fine. Then don’t.” You switched off the stove, and threw the ingredients into the trash before retreating to the study to finish more work. You could tell Natasha was caught off-guard with your reaction, but she didn’t want to back down, and she was already pissed too. 

She left for a nap to quell the growling of her stomach later on, still holding out against you and not giving in. Somewhere along the line, she heard the front door click and you stepping out, but thought nothing of it; you were probably out for a run, or checking on the garden outside, and she was not risking the comfortable position she finally found to question you what you were doing at nearly twelve midnight. 

But when the rumbling of her stomach became too hard to ignore later on, Natasha had no choice but to leave the safety and comfort of the bed to forage for food downstairs. She could already imagine the bare ingredients left in the fridge, nothing salvageable and she had to grovel at you to make her something at least edible for her in the end. 

But you were downstairs this time, watching the television, and when her eyes met yours, you pointed towards the dining table; where the table was set out with an overwhelming number of takeout boxes from her favourite Chinese place at the edge of town. She had mentioned it to you as a craving offhandedly the previous night, but Natasha would never have imagined you would take her seriously, considering how long it would take to get there and back.

Her heart fell to her stomach, and apologies were about to tumble out of her lips when you stood up, and led her to sit at the dining chair. 

“I wanted to wake you from your nap, but I figured waiting for you would be safer,” you gave her a small smile, ladleing hot and sour soup for her, “And I got new groceries and a recipe book. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have better lunches and dinners. Sorry about today, love.” 

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, Natasha swallowed them back down to crash her lips against yours in gratefulness. 

Your guilt always got the best of you. She won again. 

– 

The third strike, however, did not end up with you giving in so easily, and forever shifted the dynamic in your relationship.

It had been the end of the very exhausting episode of finally fixing the compromised SHIELD Intelligence sectors, and Maria and the team had asked you out to celebrate. You were wary of leaving behind Natasha all alone in the cabin, and even more afraid of bringing the invitation up to her, but Maria was persistent about you enjoying yourself for just one night. And in truth, you did want to go. 

Natasha was reluctant to let you go, but even Clint and the rest of the team’s advice about cutting you some slack, not keeping you on such a tight leash rang back through her, and eventually, she agreed. You caught the doubt on her face as you were getting ready, and you knew she wanted to say something, anything, to try to convince you not to go, to just stay home with her and watch another round of Netflix series, but you knew you had to do at least one thing without her in this journey. It was only healthy to let her be alone once in a while. 

With a kiss to her forehead and a promise to be home by midnight, you left Natasha standing on the porch then, the light washing the night and her figure with honey. 

–

Maria did always take her celebrations quite seriously, however. With wine and good conversations flowing into the night, it was easy to forget about the promise you had made to make it back by twelve for Natasha. By the time you even left the restaurant, it was half past midnight, and the team was already making fun of you for leaving earlier than they all were. 

“Romanoff’s never been an easy one to deal with, huh?” One of the agents piped up, meeting with a resounding agreement and laughter from the rest of the team. “Hard-headed on the job, even more hard-headed in bed, Agent.”

You flipped him off then, the hint of a grin on your face now only customary. “You know how she is, Ward. Leave her be.”

“Hey, I’m not the one stupid enough to marry her,” he shot back, “She’s crazy, and not the good kind. If I had your patience, and your looks, Agent, I know Romanoff’s the furthest thing I would touch with a stick; would’ve bagged a dumb supermodel, at least. Though now, you did kind of strike gold in the looks department, huh? That hourglass figure sculpted by nothing the KGB could beat out of her.”

Maria had elbowed him in the ribs, hard, but you could only give back a sad smile and begin to walk away. “That’s…my wife for you.” 

Before another round of jibes and remarks were thrown towards your wife, the cab you had ordered arrived, and as you got in and said your goodbyes to the team you had not seen for months, you couldn’t help but repeat Ward’s insensitivity in your head over and over again, all throughout the drive home. 

–

By the time you walked into the door, it was already nearing two in the morning, and you didn’t need Natasha’s murderous glare to know you had left her worried, and scared, that you were not coming home. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, struggling to take off your shoes, “I’m a little late. And a little tipsy. Sorry.”

You wanted to get it over and done with quickly, so you could head off to bed and avoid the fight rumbling altogether. But Natasha had other plans. 

“Nearly two hours late,” she corrected, then, “What were you guys doing outside?”

“Dinner, drinks, the usual. I was with Maria, Ward, Coulson, the usual.”

Natasha cringed at the mention of Ward, and you knew you hit a sore point with her. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Nat…” you shook your head, “...Boundaries, remember?” 

“Just…you know how Ward is. Did he say anything about me to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard of.” The wine was returning to your bloodstream, as you struggled to make it past the couch in a straight line. 

But Natasha blocked your path altogether. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You gave her an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowed, before sighing. “It means…Ward is Ward. He is always going to make uncalled for jokes, comments, and this has been him since our Academy days. I’ve learnt to just ignore it, and you should too.”

“But you listen to him, don’t you? And you let his words get to you sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed, “But I forget it quickly after. Nothing that comes out of his mouth when he’s had alcohol is of value, anyway.” 

“Do you agree with him in those cases, then?” Natasha backed away, her tone accusatory. 

You frowned, shaking your head, until the woman let it slip that Maria had informed her of what Ward said, along with the updates on where you were for the night. You cursed internally, reminding yourself to scold Maria later, when Natasha continued with, “Do you regret marrying me, darling?”

Taken aback as you were, you refused to let Natasha’s insecurities get the best of her tonight. Standing up to walk past her again, you replied with, “What are you talking about, Nat? I’m going to get some work done, you should go to bed. It’s late.” 

“Do you spend time with people like Ward, and all those other assholes you used to buddy up in the Academy, because you can’t stand to be around me? Literally anybody else but me seems to make you happier to be around these days.” 

You didn’t like where the conversation was going, and even more the accusations she was spilling out. It was unfair, and wrong, and all the things you did not want to deal with tonight. “You’re my wife, Natasha. Of course I’m happy to spend time with you. Jesus, I leave for one night and you come and accuse me of things I never am, it’s ridiculous! I’m going to the study, don’t wait up for me in bed. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

–

You told yourself to forget about it; to get over yourself and your ego, to forgive Natasha, and talk to her about it in the morning. If it was something she was insecure about, she would raise her concerns then, when the both of you were calmer, and more ready to hear each other out. But perhaps you had had enough, or you were mad at something beyond Natasha's control; either way, the more time you spent stewing, and thinking, in that study, the more you couldn’t concentrate on your work and the more you got angry at your wife’s persistence and jealousy. 

Why couldn’t she be better? Why couldn’t Natasha be easier to love? Why did everyone make her out to be such a good person, such a victim, and paint you as the evil one for wanting better? Mostly, you were upset that nobody even bothered to consider things from your point of view. It was always take care of her, don’t hurt her even further, or even you should know better than to treat her like this, as if five years of marriage would magically fix every problem the two of you would encounter, as if you could just give in to everything because she was Natasha and she was always right. 

Your eyes drifted to the framed photo of the full team after one particularly difficult mission, where everyone was nearly knocked out and all ready to go home to rest for the next week or so. Yet, there were triumphant smiles, fists pumped into the air in excitement to go home. Natasha was beside a still-optimistic Steve, while you were a few people down beside Tony with…Wanda draped over you. 

You remembered it was the mission where she had the bullet graze on her hip. It had become difficult for her to stand by then, but she was still insisting to be in the picture before you could rush her for medical attention. So the best she could do was lean on you for support, her body draped over yours as she gave you a dopey grin, while you smiled at the camera. The end result was her eyes focused on your face, instead of the camera in front, but it was still one of your favourite photographs you had. 

A deep, ugly feeling rose in you then. Why was Wanda the only one able to see you for who you were? Why was she the only one willing to listen to you, to hear you out on things, and let you come home even after all that you’ve done? Why couldn’t you love her instead? It was so late, almost four in the morning, but you managed to bang your head against the wall behind with minimal noise, and stood up to do what you were sure you were going to regret in the morning. 

Your phone was still by the kitchen counter, and Wanda’s number was memorised by heart. But right as you punched in her number, pressed the call button, the anger, the vengeance, dissipated. This was low, even for you, you recognised. 

Your heart began to thump slowly at what you’ve done. The phone rang once, twice, and by the third, you tried to look away from it, turning around to the living room to distract yourself, when the sight that greeted you made you feel only a million times worse. 

Natasha was asleep on the sofa, feet propped up on the armrests, head lolling to the side as she snored softly. One of her hands was dangling in the air, while the other…the other rested over her stomach, where even under the lowlights of the small lamp by the reading corner, you saw it for the first time. Her stomach had rounded out ever so slightly, and a bump had finally formed. 

You were sure the tears that sprang to your eyes were the most confusing mix of angry, disappointed, yet happy tears ever, and in the silence of the cabin, far away from anyone else, you had wanted to scream. Why you were put in one of the worst dilemmas of your life, why you, of all people, had to be the one to go through this, you were more angry at yourself than anyone else by then. Natasha was carrying your child, a blessing you had been hoping for for ages, and you were considering leaving her right then. 

“Hello?” It was Wanda’s voice through your phone that broke you out of your trance. She sounded sleepy, and tired, but you caught the twinge of optimism that she greeted you with as well. 

Your throat was too choked up to answer her. You were sure that if you had opened your mouth, everything would change. Nothing would be the same ever again, and you were going to lose everything you ever loved for the past five years. 

You couldn’t do it. So when Wanda called out your name, prompted a second hello, you ignored how good it felt to hear her voice, and hung up the call immediately. 

a/n: PART 3! PART 3! SOON!

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe #is there someone else #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

#number five x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves smut #number five smut #smut #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #tua #umbrella academy #number five fanfic #five hargreeves x reader #one shot #female reader #five hargreeves imagine #umbrella academy fanfic #fanfiction requests #tua fanfiction #tua fanfic #fanfiction #requests open

[ravencoloredroses]

Safe Word

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Sometimes when Az comes home from a mission things can get out of control.

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: *SMUT*, blood, bruising and cursing

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted and I’m so sorry about that. Life has been crazy lately, but now that things are back to normal (ish) I’ll be posting more regularly. I have a bunch of requests to catch up on so if you requested a while ago and I never posted it I’m sorry! It will be up soon I promise! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short fic with Az! This is my first time writing smut…. so let me know what you think! <3

——————————————————————

I hear the front door open as I drain my bath water. He’s home. Rushing to meet him, I just grab my robe to put on. Coming down the stairs, I see him in the entryway taking off his shoes.

“Hey Az!” I greet and watch as his stiffened form relaxes at my words.

“Hi beautiful.” He says back, spinning around to face me. When our eyes meet it’s difficult not to notice the fire in his gaze. He walks over to me and I meet him halfway. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a quick kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss, but Azriel had different plans. He pulls at the back of my head exposing my neck to him. He makes his way down my chin to my neck and down to my collarbone. I grab onto his hair and arch my body closer to him. He gives a deep moan and comes back to my lips. He grabs the back of my thighs as my queue to jump up. I cling onto him as he walks us up the stairs. My robe pools around my waist and he releases a moan as he notices how I’m dressed.

“I missed you so much, my love.” He says when we finally break for air.

“I missed you too.” I managed to get out. He smirks, pushing open our bedroom door and tossing me onto the bed. He looks at me with the gaze of a predator, and I’m more than happy to be his prey. I understand exactly what he needs from me. I knew from the moment I saw him at the door.

When Azriel has a bad day on a mission or in training he has multiple different ways to relieve his stress. Most days are just to cuddle up with a book or take a relaxing bath, but on rare occasions he needs to release his frustrations with sex. Today is one of those days.

He hovers over me pulling off my robe. As his scarred hands graze over my skin, I feel a wetness pooling at my core. I reach down and start to undo his belt buckle when he takes over for me. I watch as he flings his leathers onto the floor, never breaking eye contact. I note the obvious bulge in his boxers and pull him down into another searing kiss.

I move my hands down his torso and under his waistband, stroking him teasingly. He grabs my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist.

One second he’s standing up to remove his boxers, the next his mouth is back on my neck. I run my hands through his hair as he makes his way down to my chest, leaving marks that will definitely be there tomorrow.

His shadows creep up and bring my hands above my head pinning them there. He begins massaging one of my breasts and sucks on the other one. His unoccupied hand finds its way to my thighs, slowly circling around where I need him most. He runs his hands through my folds as his thumb plays with my clit. I arch my back off the bed and struggle to pull my hands free from his shadows, desperate to touch him.

He moves back up to kiss my lips, gives himself a few pumps, lines himself up and slams into me. Normally he allows me to adjust to his size, but tonight he just starts pounding. At first it was a bit of a shock, but after a few thrusts I realize I’m just along for the ride.

His pace never slows, if anything he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin fills my ears and he moves his hands to my waist, holding me down firmly. He’s slamming into me so hard that I’m sliding up the bed towards the headboard. He pulls at my hips to bring me closer to the edge of the bed. His grasp on me only tightens as time goes on, turning my pleasure into pain.

I try to endure it for his sake. I know he needs this -needs me- right now and I can’t bring myself to stop it.

“Fuck.” He moans in my ear. “You feel so good.”

I kiss his shoulder as my response, but as tears fill my vision I know it’s getting to be too much.

I realize that I’m not wet anymore. Making this much, much worse. I can endure the pain from his hold on my hips, but every thrust feels like sandpaper scraping my insides.

He adjusts his grip on my waist and thrusts faster and harder. He’s getting close, and I tell myself if I can just stick it out for a little longer it will be okay.

The pain becomes too overwhelming and that has me do what I never thought I would need to do.

“RED!”

Azriel immediately stops his motions and looks at me stunned. “What’s wrong?!? Are you okay?!?” He asks looking frantic.

“I’ll be okay, I just need to stop. I’m sorry.” I sob, wiping away my tears.

“Do not apologize. Ever. Can I pull out?” He questions. I give him a small nod. He slowly pulls out of me and releases his hold on my waist. His shadows also release their hold on my wrists, giving my arms light kisses as they go back towards Az. He kneels before me and we both take note of the visible marks he left behind and the trail of blood seeping out of me.

“No. No no no no no.” He says mostly to himself, pulling at his hair. “Fuck. Oh my gods I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m so sorry dove, I- I don’t even know what happened.”

“Azzy, It’s oka-“

“Don’t. Do not tell me it’s okay.” He cuts me off, running off to the bathroom. As he gets up I notice his painfully hard cock. He was about to cum, and I ruined it. It looks so painful for him and I feel terrible for essentially blue balling my mate.

He returns with an entire first aid kit and a wet rag. He gently spreads my legs and begins wiping me clean. I can tell by his clenched jaw that he’s beating himself up in his head. I want to say something but nothing I could say will help this situation, so I remain quiet.

When he’s done cleaning the blood off of me, he rummages through the first aid kit looking for something. He pulls out a tube that I don’t recognize, meets my confused gaze and says, “I asked Madja for this when we first became mates. It helps to heal cuts on the inside, I can do it… if you're okay with that.” He looks at me with eyes filled with sorrow and I give him a small nod.

He sighs and twists the cap off the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers. He scoots closer to me and I spread my legs as far as I can for him. He clenches his jaw again and slowly pushes two fingers into me. I hold back my gasp as he moves them around to coat my walls. He pulls out and wipes them off on the rag.

He climbs back up on the bed and reaches over to pull me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder and grab his free hand to play with. Rocking me back and forth, he rubs a soothing hand down my spine.

After a while like this, he lifts me up and pulls back the covers of our bed. He lays me down and then climbs in next to me. I snuggle up into his chest and he puts his arms around me. “Az, it’s not your fault. We have a safe word for a reason. I should have used it sooner, so if anyone’s to blame it’s me.” I whisper and feel him stiffen underneath me.

“I’m your mate. The person you’re supposed to trust, the person who should never harm you. You’re the love of my life, I’ve waited centuries for you and I fucked that all up tonight. I know we have a safe word, but you should never have to use it with me. It’s my job to keep you safe, but I didn’t even keep you safe from myself.” He sobs.

I shoot up into a sitting position to look at him fully. Azriel does not cry, ever. Yet here he is, my mate, crying because he thinks he hurt me. I place my hands on either side of his face and look him dead in the eyes.

“Azriel. I love you so gods damned much. I do trust you, fully. After I said the safe word you immediately stopped. You stopped when you were about to orgasm. That shows me how selfless you are. Not all males would do that, but you did.” I kiss away his tears and continue.

“I never knew what it felt like to feel safe until I met you. You are the only person who puts me first and that means the world to me. I will never be able to repay you for all the times you’ve saved me. I love you Azriel and what happened here tonight doesn’t change that.”

He nods his head and I wipe the rest of his tears away then place a soft kiss on his forehead.

I slowly lay back down and pull him into my arms. This is my favorite way to sleep and I think it’s his too. Az nuzzles his head into my neck and I let my fingers play with his hair, lightly scratching his scalp like I know he loves. He places a kiss on my shoulder and flares out his wings to shield us from the world.

I’m drifting off to sleep as I hear a whisper so quiet I barely hear it.

“I love you too.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #cassian #feyre #mor #nesta #rhys #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar smut #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n

[carmillamycarmine]

Carmilla Carmine x Fem Reader: Reader learning ballet from Carmilla. {1,976 words}

Request by: @coallise

Pas de Deux

Flames danced and twisted with fervor, echoing laughter resounded like a haunting melody, and the anguished cries of citizens pierced the air. It was almost theatrical. A daunting song.

Carmilla, with a solemn grace, closed her eyes and embraced the disheartening setting of her current existence. Once again. Carmilla turned from the window, her large hands folded behind her back. Within the esteemed estate, metallic thudding on hard stone could be heard throughout. The building was quiet, sheilding itself away from the torture outside.

The tall, elegant woman stepped through the dimly lit corridors, her laced feet taking her exactly where she wanted to go. The grand ballroom was cold, always surprisingly. Carmilla entered the room, watching the dark curtains rustle and do their flapper dance. Crimson hues of the moon's light filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting prisms of light upon the meticulously polished marble floor. Within this splendid setting, an atmosphere of eagerness formed and the woman couldn't help but smile smally.

With a snap of her long fingers, musical notes floated through the air, filling it with new life. Carmilla inhaled deeply, feeling her cold heart thaw.

‘Pavane for a Dead Princess’ played out.

Long arms went into first position, and so did her feet, for once allowing herself to be off her toes, in more ways than one. And with that, Carmilla flowed effortlessly into choreography from her heart, letting the music control her. She was of a black swan gliding across a tranquil lake, her angelic ballet shoes and straps sparkling in the light like the shimmers of that swan lake.

Carmilla felt sane here. She felt closer to herself.

Without warning, a familiar scent of rose wafted into her nose, triggering an emotion within Carmilla's thawed state. The woman immediately paused her dance but did not stumble, never. White irises darted towards the entrance, landing on your beautiful figure before you quickly slipped away, hiding yourself away from Carmilla in the shadows.

“Corazón?”

The sound of the ballet woman's bubbling, velvet voice caused a wave of shivers to swim through your body, making you sigh.

“Ven acá.”

Obediently, you did go to her, revealing yourself truthfully.

“There's no need to hide. I won't bite.” Carmilla looked away from you, her eyebrows furrowing slightly with a thought.

You didn't respond.

“Were you needing me?” Her velvety voice asked.

“No, not really. I just…” You spoke as your footsteps got closer to her. “I heard music. Music plays through these halls only a few times… which, anyway, is usually when you're done with your work.”

You looked up into her white eyes, the red of Carmilla's scleras glowing and highlighting bits of her perfect face.

“I see,” the taller woman replied, her large hand going up to touch her chin in thought.

It was quiet for a moment between you two, though, the music of ballet still played on.

“Teach me.” You almost command it.

“What?”

“Teach me how to dance ballet,” you said more specifically. “Please,” you added quickly.

Carmilla observed you for a moment, considering your request. As you stood before her, you swore you could see something shift within her gaze.

“Why?”

I suppose you should've expected that response. Your eyes immediately shifted away from hers, internally forcing yourself to not fluster. You chuckled suddenly, almost embarrassed.

“W-Why would anyone want to learn?” You ask, fiddling your thumbs before making quick eye contact again. “It's just.. so beautiful. You look… so beautiful.”

Carmilla's stoic face changed into one of surprise.

“I want to feel that way.”

The ballet woman's features softened, her heart tugging from the mix of your words.

"Very well," she agreed, extending her big hand towards you. "Come, let us not waste our time.”

With graceful movements, she guided you to the center of the ballroom, positioning you carefully. Her touch was soft, gentle, contrasting with the image of her imposing presence.

“First, we must find your balance," Carmilla instructed, using her hands to help her communicate. "Feel the ground beneath you, feel your feet, your heels build into the ground like the roots of a sturdy tree.”

You followed her guidance, focusing on your stance as she adjusted your posture with a gentle touch.

“Now, let the music guide you," she continued, snapping her fingers to restart to music from the speakers. "Feel its rhythm coursing through your veins, connecting you to every note, every beat, as if it's the song of your own beating blood.”

As the bittersweet melody rewinds and envelopes the room once again, you tentatively begin to move, slightly mimicking Carmilla's steps you saw earlier to guide you. At first, it felt awkward and unfamiliar, but with each passing moment, you surrendered yourself to the music, allowing it to carry you, though, you still felt awkward all the same.

Feeling the music, you forget about your stiffness and focus on just allowing the music to take control, hoping it'll relax your body.

“The song of your own heart, corazón, not mine.”

You couldn't help but huff a bit, knowing Carmilla wanted you to produce your own dance, not blatantly copying. Following Carmilla's instructions, your movements felt uncertain. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't quite capture the fluid grace that seemed to come so naturally to her. And then, just as you feared, you slipped, your calves not used to holding up all your weight from your toes.

Before you knew it, a long, strong arm snaked around your waist as your hand was pulled by another, forcing your tumbling body into an upright position and being pulled into a firm, warm embrace. Carmilla held you steady, and without missing a beat, the woman smoothly transitioned into a pas de deux, pulling you close and along as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In her embrace, you felt a sense of security and belonging, almost a sense of awe, as if for this moment, the chaos of hell outside faded away, leaving only the two of you to burn like hot flames, dancing flames, swirling and flickering in untamed perfect harmony.

You stumbled at first, trying to keep up with Carmilla's practiced steps, but she guided you with patience and grace, leading you through the intricate movements with ease. As you danced together, you felt a connection deeping between you two, a silent understanding that transcended words; a passionate inferno.

Carmilla moved you through each step with a confidence that stirred the progressively boiling pot within you. As you looked up into her glowing eyes, you saw a flicker of emotion that mirrored your own desire, a silent longing that spoke volumes without even a single word being spoken aloud. Every brush of skin against skin sent a shiver down your spine, turning up the flames beneath your pot.

As the music swelled, Carmilla's arms lifted you easily into the air, your body weightless to her. You felt the rush of adrenaline mixed with the desire for Carmilla herself, sending a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. Seeing the woman beneath you, looking up at you, was a sight to behold, the romanticized music and red moonlight tinting the marble floor only adding to the fantastical scene. You did everything in your power to not reach out and caress the beautiful face before you.

When the music reached its end, Carmilla gently lowered you back down onto the floor, carefully allowing you to steady yourself before letting go of you. You already missed her touch, missed her too, though she was right there in front of you.

You stood breathless. Was it from the dancing, or was it from Carmilla? Unfortunately, you already knew the answer to that. With a slight part of her lips, as if she wanted to express something, Carmilla brushed a stray hair from your face, her touch causing your heart to skip and pulse with speed.

"You dance beautifully," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gazing into each other's eyes, in that moment, you knew what you had to say. Summoning all your courage, you took a closer step forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed your eyes a moment to cope. "Carmilla," you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's something I need to… want to.. tell you.”

“Yes?” was all the taller woman spoke.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and held your hands together in comfort. You gathered your thoughts, your heart desperately wanting release. "I... I…” You chuckled nervously, laughing at your own nerves. “Carmilla… I love you," you confessed, your voice a faint murmur. "I've never... felt this way.. about anyone before… so passionately about someone before. You're... you're just so perfect. You're everything to me.”

For a moment, there was silence, complete silence as the music finally cuts off with its ending. The atmosphere with anticipation, you fear the worst and quickly open your mouth to take back the words you announced. And then, skipping your heart once more, Carmilla reached out and placed her sueded hand delicately on your cheek, so delicate, she might as well not be touching you at all.

“And I love you, mi amor, mi corazón," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I have for far longer than I care to admit.”

You were stunned, in awe. How could she say something so easily? You stood there, barely able to comprehend Carmilla's confession. A twitchy smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You... you love me?" you repeated, the words feeling foreign yet undeniably sweet on your tongue.

“With my whole soul," the ballet woman replied, her voice steady and unwavering.

A scoff fell from your lips before evolving into full chuckles, the sound filled with a mix of sheer disbelief and happiness. "I can't… I can't believe this," you murmured, shaking your head in amazement. "I never thought... I never dared to even hope…” But as you looked on into Carmilla's white eyes, you knew that her words were real, that the love you felt for each other was genuine and true. For some reason, the confession smothered you, and you could almost pass out.

“Hell… I really do love you, my Carmilla.” you said, your voice filled with conviction and need. "More than I ever thought possible.”

Carmilla hummed deeply in delight at that. A full smile dressed her black painted lips, a rare and truly radiant expression that lit up her entire face. Boldly, Carmilla allowed her thumb to gently graze over your bottom lip.

"May I kiss you?" she asked, her bubbly, velvety voice putting you in a daze.

You nodded eagerly, your heart getting ready to burst in your chest as Carmilla leans in closer and closer, her lips hovering just inches away from yours. With a gentle brush of her lips against yours, the world seemed to explode into fireworks. Passion and desire bursting within, each popped spark igniting a fervent longing that enveloped you both in a whirlwind of ecstasy and enchantment.

Maybe it was just Charlie's, the princess of hell’s firework spell that she does at work.

Reluctantly pulling apart from the kiss, you smile up at Carmilla, and she smiles down at you, admiring you. You held each other close, savoring the moment and the overwhelming rush of emotions. In the quiet of the ballroom, surrounded by the gentle flapping of the curtains, you found heaven in each other's arms. With a contented sigh, Carmilla rested her head against your shoulder, her arms completely wrapped around you in a comforting hug. And as you stood there, basking in the warmth of her touch, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything… such as your insulting ballet skills.

#my writing #carmilla carmine #carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla x reader #hazbin carmilla #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel carmilla #writing

[spacebarbarianweird]

request for draconic sorcerer! tav x astarion headcanons!!! draconic sorcerers are so fun bc you can mess around with the idea of draconic instincts while also getting cool magic B)

Damn, I even didn't know such things existed! Now I want to play as Draconic Soreceress, too!

Draconic bloodline sorcerers are those practitioners of the arcane arts who have some biological connection with dragons, either through their own relations or those of their forebears.

Wiki

Astarion x Draconic Sorcerer!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

There is fire in your veins and scales along your body.

With a draconic bloodline, there is a skill to speak the Dragon language and to cast fireballs.

Dragon blood calls out to you and you suffer from nightmares.

Of course, you know you can't be turned into a dragon - but your body can be changed beyond recognition if the magic takes upon you.

The tadpole is a blessing - the scales are gone and you don't feel the fire.

Of course, you also can't use your magic. Everybody assumes you are a ranger, whose favored enemy is a dragon.

Astarion doesn't believe you - he tastes dragon fire in your blood and demands you tell the truth.

But he isn't afraid. He loves this "spice" in you.

Besides, once he feeds on you, he can cast much deadlier fireballs than he usually does.

He has his reasons to ascend - you have your reasons to keep the tadpole.

The dragon's ancestry scares you, You know it waits and who knows what will happen once the tadpole is gone.

In your nightmares, you transform into a beast. In your nightmares, you yell in pain and terror.

And only Astarion's cold hands can soothe you.

Astarion assures you there is a way to control your powers and, for a brief moment, you believe him.

Astarion refuses to ascend and you refuse to engage with Mindflayers.

The tadpoles are gone.

Astarion cries in pain and disappears into the shadows.

But you...

Your worst nightmare comes to life.

The scales return on your cheeks and hands, red and soft.

The draconic wings burst out of your back, the nails transform into claws.

The pain is so unbearable you want to die.

Before anyone manages to help you, you rush to the dungeons.

Maybe Gale or Wyll would know what to do, but you can't think straight because of pain.

You hide in the Underdark, trying to get as far as possible from sentient beings.

You are going to be a monster, who lives in some dark cave, slowly losing her humanity and sanity.

"I suppose it's not the best days in our lives", you suddenly hear a familiar voice weeks later. "But next time, do me a favor and slow down."

You hide.

You can't let Astarion see you like that.

Let him remember you as you were. Besides, you haven't seen your reflection, you don't know how bad this is."

He doesn't insist. But he also doesn't leave. He makes a campfire and waits.

The loneliness finally is too much and you step from the shadows.

Astarion is very bad at hiding his emotions.

There is shock.

Fear.

Remorse.

But before you escape, he grabs your hand with his newfound vampiric strength.

Scales. Claws. Sharp teeth.

"Well, no tail. Pity - it has always amused me how many things tieflings and dragonborns can do with them."

But most importantly - wings!

A pair of amazing, draconic wings growing off your back.

"Can you fly?" he asks, studying them like an artist.

"I-I don't know-"

"Well, we should find out then. Dragons aren't supposed to live in dungeons. Maybe they are, but not you."

You cry in his hands as he lulls you to sleep.

Once you return to the surface, Astarion finds a mirror for you, and while you stare at your body with disgust, he caresses your skin with his cold fingers, calling you a demi-goddess.

He sews your dresses to highlight your red scales.

He asks you to pierce his skin with your claws when you have sex because it's a pleasant pain like no other.

He adores your wings.

When you hug, they cover you both with a cape.

It's difficult for you to sleep on your back, so you develop a habit of lying on the Astarion's chest, covering you both with the wings.

Even years later, you still have body image issues - the draconic magic went nuts on you, and other sorcerers are just shocked to see what has become of you.

But Astarion has none of this. You are one of a kind. The most gorgeous woman he has ever met.

He also encourages you to learn how to fly - you can't do it for a long time but still can, and every time you are back, he looks at you with adoration.

--

Tag list

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#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #tav x astarion #spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion x reader #dnd #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion imagine #astarion x female reader #dnd sorcerer #draconic bloodline #draconic sorcerer