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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

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she calls me daddy

Pairings: Kate Bishop x fem!queer!Reader; suggestions of other male avengers x Reader

Summary: Reader may be flirting with the guys all night but she always goes home to Kate in the end. Based on she calls me daddy by KiNG MALA.

Contains: Choking, spanking, oral sex (R receiving), pet names (R calling Kate “daddy”), suggestions of sex with men with the warnings already mentioned. 18+, Minors DNI

A/N: Reader can be read as being any sexuality that involves being attracted to more than one gender <3

She's a little bit psycho

But she follows

When I call in the middle of the night

Kate grimaced as she watched the boys circle round you, listening intently like obedient little puppies with wagging tails as you told a story about taking out five agents at once. They were completely captivated by you and it wasn’t just because of your knack for story telling.

These were some of Earth’s mightiest heroes; the strongest men on the planet but they all just about swooned whenever you would be generous enough to give them your time.

Bucky had his hand on the small of your back, his head dipped to be closer to your face and take in every word you said. Thor had leaned his elbow off the bar on the other side of you, making sure that he was flexing and you could see those bulging muscles. Sam was more calm and collected, standing in front of you casually with his hand in his pocket and the other holding a beer. However, he wasn’t discreet in how he’d looked you up and down every now and then, being enchanted by your figure. Shang Chi also stood next to Sam across from you and bellowed heartily at all of your jokes. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide at everything you were saying.

It was hilarious really, all of this effort was being expended on you but at the end of the night, you’d be going home to Kate’s house to be used in any way she saw fit.

She’s got you wrapped around her finger

You try to linger

But she's already on her way to mine

“Doesn’t it bother you that she gets all of that attention?” Yelena asked, grabbing Kate’s focus away from you. She was one of the very select few people who knew of yours and Kate’s “arrangement”. The blonde sipped her drink thoughtfully and watched Kate adamantly protest.

“Absolutely not, no. No way. She’s her own person, she can do what she likes.” Kate insisted. She took a large gulp of the questionable spirit that Yelena had handed her and tried to hide the obvious burn in her throat to look cool in front of the assassin.

“If you say so, Kate Bishop,” Yelena shrugged. “Although I have heard the way you make her moan so I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.”

Kate blinked several times in disbelief at her slightly unusual and unlikely friend. “What do you mean you’ve heard her moan?”

“I slept on your couch last Friday night.”

“But I didn’t invite you to my house on Friday night!”

Yelena groaned as if Kate was the one that was being unreasonable. “Kate, you should know by now that I can come and go without you even noticing. Besides, you’re focusing on the wrong part. I know that you are probably a better fuck than all of those men put together.”

Kate nodded, thinking about it a little with her eyebrow raised. Yelena was right, many times had you exclaimed at Kate that she was the best you’d ever had as she’d brought you to your climax several times in one session. The archer turned back to look at you again. Annoyingly, the guys had moved in even closer to you in a passive aggressive stand off to win your affection. Nevertheless, it was Kate that received the whimsical and suggestive eyes from across the room and she knew that it was her that would be making you moan again that night.

She plays with the boys

But she comes home to me

Cause she might be your girl

But she’s calling me daddy

The longer the night went on, the more primal showboating was exhibited by the men. They’d all shoved each other in a needy and pathetic attempt to show you how to play pool. It was Sam that prevailed and he’d pressed himself up against your back, whispering in your ear what to do and basically bending you over the table to “show you the best technique”.

Thor nonchalantly told you about his great battle stories from across the realms, being sure to drop in that many a time the odds were against him but he had emerged victorious. He contended that whilst a vibranium arm, ten “magic” rings and the shield were cool, they weren’t quite Mjolnir or Stormbreaker.

Bucky and Shang Chi had cornered you to settle a debate on what would make the best first date. Bucky was insistent that it was dinner and dancing; men these days just didn’t know how to treat a woman. Shang Chi had advocated for drinks and karaoke; it’s casual and fun, no one has to take themselves too seriously. When they had prodded you for an answer you just smiled sweetly and told them that both sounded like perfect ideas for a first date. This just spurred them on even more in hopes of achieving a date with you.

Kate started to feel more and more insecure watching all of these events unfold. It was like watching you being stalked as prey by a bunch of wolves. Suddenly, the idea occurred to her that maybe none of them were relenting because you hadn’t given them a reason to.

It was a tough pill to swallow; the idea that you had already given yourself over to them the way you did for Kate. Perhaps, you had actually slept with any number of them before and not told her. It’s not like the two of you discussed your other sexual partners while she was making you see stars. Still, watching you giggle and flirt with the guys whilst never displaying any signs of discouragement was all the evidence she needed.

Kate was starting to feel apprehensive that she was disposable to you. Whilst you might have been sleeping with other avengers and other people outside of the team for that matter; Kate had only ever wanted you.

She's mine

She wears a collar with my name

Secretive but not ashamed

Kate had had enough of watching the guys stumble over each other in desperate attempts to get close to you. Her breathing got heavy and her actions became aggressive. The final straw was watching Bucky put his arms around you from behind and swaying with you to the cheesy song playing.

Kate stormed over, puffing her chest out, with her hands in her pockets, exuding as much masculine energy as possible to join this competition.

“Come with me to the bathroom.” She ordered assertively giving you a look which told you that you should comply.

“Okay.” You replied, giving Bucky’s had a light tap. “Can you let me go, Buck? I’ll be right back, promise.” He quickly let you go with a pout on his face, devastated that you were going but eager for the return you’d promised.

“Why do girls always need to go to the bathroom together?” Sam interjected with a laugh. It amused you as you knew this wasn’t going to be a cute little catch up whilst topping up lipglosses together.

“I would tell you why, Sam, but then I’d have to kill you.” You flirted as Kate took your hand to pull you away. She groaned internally and rolled her eyes as you gave the boys a cute little wave and followed her into the bathroom.

Kate wasted no time in shoving you up against the wall, pinning your hands above your head and kissing you roughly. You moaned a little into her mouth, having been taken by surprise and you felt a familiar heat grow between your legs.

“You. Are. Driving. Me. Crazy.” She growled against your mouth before kissing you again, almost as though she was trying to consume you.

You smirked into the kiss, shuffling a little against her as you got more and more turned on. Kate was firm and still, holding your wrists in place against the wall. She moved to kiss along your jaw and finally down to your neck. The smell of cologne was lingering on you. It could have been from any of them, given that they’d all taken turns in trying to press themselves against you. It burned in Kate’s nostrils and motivated her even further to claim you.

Infatuated with an incredible need to mark her territory, Kate had become no better than the guys.

She harshly bit down on your neck and sucked in your most sensitive spot which inspired an excited yelp from you.

“Fucking hell, Kate.” You breathed out, moaning as she kept going. She dropped your wrists and her hands roamed the rest of your body, kneading your tits, dragging her nails down your abdomen over your dress and landing with a smack on your ass, cupping your cheeks.

You had wrapped your arms around her shoulders, enjoying every second of having her hands all over you. In truth, you enjoyed flirting with the guys. Partly because they were all undeniably handsome but mostly because you know it would get Kate all worked up like this.

Once she’d left a suitably obvious hickey on your neck she left a kiss on it and admired her work. She reached her hand up and grabbed on to your throat tightly and you relished in the squeeze.

“Who do you belong to?” Kate asked, giving you a stern and authoritarian look.

“You.” You moaned, enjoying this a little too much already.

“You, what?”

“You, daddy.”

Kate smirked and bit her lip at you becoming a mess already for her. “That’s right, babygirl. That’s fucking right.”

She turned you round so your chest was pressed against the wall. Your ass received a couple of harsh spanks before Kate pulled the hem of your dress up to rest on your hips. Her next move was to get on her knees behind you, biting at the sore flesh of your ass and you could have screamed. Fingertips digging into the wall and legs trembling, you turned your head to look at the door being so painfully aware that anyone could just walk in.

Kate pulled your underwear down and let it fall to your ankles. Putting her hand between your thighs, she parted your legs to get at her favourite part of your body. Slowly, she opened her mouth and dragged her tongue along your aching clit. A gasp was emitted from your lips and you arched your back to stick your bum out, exposing more of your pussy to Kate’s tongue.

Kate chuckled at your eagerness and submission. Her hands gripped your hips to keep you in place as she started to suck on your clit. She would take long gulps and hollowed out her cheeks to the drag the pleasure out for as long as possible. You were a writhing, moaning mess. Your forehead was pressed against the wall in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself. Your hands awkwardly flailed from resting against the wall to putting them over Kate’s on your hips. Usually, you would tug at her hair but with her being on her knees behind you, it was too difficult.

She hummed contentedly against you and it sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. The mewls and cries you let out were so high pitched, you were both a little in shock that your voice could even go that high. Kate would alternate her method between sucking your clit to get it all nice and sensitive and then would lap it up with her tongue. The noises you were making told her all she needed to know about what a good job she was doing.

She noted your legs beginning to shake and knew you were close. Feeling yourself get very sensitive you tried to move away from her. Kate responded with gripping your hips tighter and digging her nails in. This sent you flying over the edge.

“Oh my god, thank you, daddy! I’m cumming, fuck!” You screamed as you let go, Kate sucking for longer in order to drag your orgasm out for as long as possible.

You leaned against the wall for support, your hands pressed on it to steady yourself. You focused on your haphazard breathing and attempted to regulate it. Kate gently pulled your underwear back up and stood up to pull your dress back down. She kissed your shoulder repeatedly and rubbed your back as you came to.

“You wanna go home?” She asked softly.

“Yeah.” You replied, knowing it wouldn’t be long before both of you were up for round two.

You should see their face when they finally realize

That she plays with the boys

But she comes home to me

It was pretty obvious when you and Kate emerged from the bathroom what you had been up to. Her hand was on the small of your back and she occasionally gave you some shoulder kisses. Likewise, you adorned a large love bite on your neck whilst your face and chest were red and flushed.

Kate wished she could have taken a picture of the guys’ faces. Each one of them had their jaw dropped in complete shock, having realised just how naive and clueless they had been all night. It made you giggle but it made Kate smug.

You took your bag back from Shang Chi who was holding it for you, giving the four men a sweet smile. “Tonight was fun, I’ll see you guys later. Bye.”

They wordlessly all raised their hands to wave you off. All of them were bitter and disappointed they had not caught on that it was Kate they had needed to compete with.

You turned to Kate who had tasked herself with sorting the Uber. Her hand returned to your back as she guided you out of the bar. She may not have had good odds in a fight against any of the four men, but she had won this and honestly, this was more satisfying.

Head's a mess

She's responsible

Change her mind

It's impossible

You rested your head on Kate’s shoulder in the car, relaxing into her. Kate moved and put her arm around you to which you gave a contented sigh.

Kate looked down at the sweet sight of you in her arms and began to wonder if this was enough for her. She couldn’t handle watching men flirting with you in a bar right in front of her face so she shuddered to think about what you did behind her back.

Her brain flooded with intense intrusive thoughts. Bucky’s vibranium arm round your neck, squeezing it just the way you liked. Sam bending you over that pool table, riding your dress up and pulling your underwear down just as Kate had done in the bathroom. Shang Chi spanking you as you let out excited moans, begging him for more. Thor eating you out as though you were his last meal and making your voice hoarse with your screams.

Kate groaned, the thoughts making her feel nauseous. She was aware that you had maybe done any of those things before. The real kick in the teeth though, is that you weren’t Kate’s girlfriend and were perfectly free to still do those things.

You had never suggested wanting anything serious, seemingly content with the arrangement you and Kate had whilst freely flirting with the guys on nights out. It occurred to the archer that she might control you in the bedroom but in real life it was you that held the reigns. You had everyone right where you wanted them.

Watch the girl get what she likes

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queerbookshelf · 1 year

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"She'd laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have."

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐓𝐢𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, death, a wholesome father figure (rare!!!), piracy, anti-hero activity... ughh oh blood, sacrifice, maybe even blood sacrifice :), I have a nsfw section as well

a/n: Thank you to the anon who requested this! I’ve been wanting to write for Tia Dalma for so long but didn’t know where to start honestly (she’s one of my favourite characters and I didn’t want to do her any injustices!)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

🌿ENFJ 🍁Ravenclaw 📜Chaotic Neutral 🔮Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, Pisces Rising

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You’ve always been curious

・And unlike Elizabeth, who you practically grew up with, your curiosity spanded across many subjects - not just pirates.

・Your curiosity ranged from how carriages were made to where the best places are to plant seeds. How to bake and cook, to how to lead an army.

・There was a bit of romance between your mother and Governor Swann, as your father and Elizabeth’s mother had both died.

・So in your youth, you spent a lot of time with Elizabeth Swann, who constantly wanted to play pirates. She was always the captain, and you, the second mate

・As you grew older, the separation between classes became very apparent. Even though you and your mother were well-off, giving you a sheltered life, Elizabeth was almost ... groomed, for something better

・And you watched as your best friend was whisked into learning new languages, how to act like a lady, and so on

・Your mother re-married a man who had travelled to Port Royal to be in the Governor’s inner circle, and he was quiet with you for a while

・It took some time for you to get used to each other, but he was always curteous to you and soon you started to look at him as a father figure

・He taught you a lot of the things that you wanted to know

・Things that your mother always scoffed at

・In a way, you were the son he always wished he had

・He taught you how to handle a blade, how to shoot a pistol and the basics on how to defend yourself. Everything that soldiers were taught.

・When he had to go away for the Governor, he always brought back a momento for your mother, and for you

・Each time he brought something back, it fuelled your need for adventure, to get out into the world and experience things. Call it Rapunzel syndrome, because your mother always said the world was cruel and there was nothing out there for you

・But you had this innate need ... to discover

・And when the attack on Port Royal happened and Elizabeth was taken, you were furious. Utterly delirious with anger. How could that happen? She was the Governor’s daughter!

・Your step-father was the one to push you to go on this adventure

・So you went with Will and Jack to rescue her. You realised why Elizabeth was so obsessed with pirates. They had freedom.

・And that’s exactly what you wanted...

・So you allowed yourself to be swept up in the world of piracy

・It wasn’t until a year later, that you met Tia Dalma

・When Jack went to seek help with his mark from Davy Jones

・When you looked at her, the wind was knocked out of you. It felt like you had fallen from a ladder and landed on your back. And a second later, you actually were on the ground.

・You awoke to Jack’s face, “you alright, love?”

・As well as Gibbs fanning your face

・But it wasn’t until you saw the face of Tia Dalma that you fully came to

“I see ... my future in you.”

・And that was where it began

・You were soulmates, Tia Dalma could feel like. Just like all the other things she could feel; like with Will, she knows the destiny by just looking at someone.

・Your relationship developed quickly as Tia Dalma didn’t see the importance in ‘courting’ you, so to speak

・Her pull to you was so strong that she couldn’t be held back by courties and traditions

・She knew you were destined to be together, no matter what. That something pulled you to her for a reason

・And you could feel it too. Like being in her presence was the only thing that made sense. That even though she seemed like the most alien person on earth, she was the most normal to you.

・You decided to stay with Tia Dalma, and pursue what was going on in each of your hearts

・While doing this, Jack did task you with learning some magical abilities (”An order from your captain!) as he put it.

・To aid him in his fight against Davy Jones (which you agreed to. Somehow justifying it as the reason to stay with Tia Dalma).

・And with the time you spent with her ... you fell in love ...

・She smells like patchouli, sage and bay leaves

・Tia Dalma braids trinkets into your hair, like small shells, gemstones and/or a feather.

・You go to the beach often, and spend hours there together.

・While there, she talks about her past, where she’s come from and what she’s endured.

・She tells you about Davy Jones and her, that she’s really the goddess Calypso. That they fell in love, that he was supposed to do his duties and guide the souls of the sea to their resting place

・But she makes you swear - a blood promise, not to tell anyone.

・The story made you cry; only a single tear. However, when it slid down your cheek, Tia reached out and wiped it, licking her finger with the tear upon it

“I was right... you are connected to me...somehow.”

・In your days away from your crew, you realised how much time it had been since you last saw your mother and more notably, your stepfather.

・You asked Tia if she had any way of getting a letter to Port Royal and all she did was smirk

“Mi Heart, I can get a message to anyone...”

・She whistled and a raven flew onto her shoulder. It nibbled her outstretched finger and you smiled.

・This woman was going to change your life.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

The Moon and Her Star

Immortal Who Has Immense Knowledge and Power (Tia) x Curious and Clumsy Mortal Who Is Discovering Everything For The First Time (You)

Always Hold Grudges (Tia) x Forgives Too Easily (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Destined Love // Soulmates

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖

Mi Heart, Mi World, Gorgeous, Beautiful.

She is a soothsayer for a reason, and able to make anything sound like a loveable nick name. It’s hard not to blush when she says such affectionate things, and the tone she uses makes you melt.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

Physical Touch, Words of Affection and Acts of Service.

We know Tia is a witch with the powers of voodoo magic. She loves to touch your face, fix your hair, make sure your clothes are sitting right etc. She also loves to hear how much you love her (it’s the goddess side in her), verbal praise is a big thing for Tia Dalma. And with acts of service, that comes from how she shows her love. She does a lot of spellwork for you, to aid you in every area in your life.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・Tia was your first sexual encounter, and I’m talking even the first time being kissed. Well, kissed by someone you’re attracted to.

・Tia knows a lot about sex, sexual desires and pleasure

・So she knows exactly how to get you ... going

・Most of the time, all it takes is to whisper in your ear, and a nibble on your earlobe. Then you’re like putty in her hands

・With your consent, she would introduce kinks into the bedroom

・Not major ones, unless you became more and more curious

・Then she would have no issue bringing in more ... intense kinks

・Possibly blood play, but it would surprise you to know, that Tia would only do that when you know you want to bind yourself to each other.

“Blood is our lifeforce,” she said in her distinct accent, the trinkets in her locs tinkling as she walked towards you, “and when shared, it is a bond that cannot be broken.”

・She’s nearly always the one in charge; telling you what to do, how to touch her.

・Once you learn though, you start to take charge in small ways.

・And Tia Dalma starts to like it

・The way you firmly hold her against you

・The bites that are harsher than normal

・When you push her against the wall and kiss her passionately you can feel her smiling

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ghoulishbuck · 4 months

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What are somethings you wish more bookish people would do or talk about?

I’d love to see more people go secondhand book shopping, using a library including footage from inside the library, reading challenges, and trying books out of their comfort zone.

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morvantmortuary · 6 months

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paint the town red --

(Maxi Morvant x non-binary/genderqueer plus-sized Reader, 18+)

(summary: Maxi returns to you after some night work. You don't hate the result.

warnings: smut, minors dni. dead dove do not eat for the following: blood kink, minor descriptions of gore, Maxi goes down on Reader after some light cannibalism. oral (afab receiving, some anatomy mentioned), oral wound fucking (reader giving), pain kink, handjob. some possessiveness, mentions of stalking. some allusions towards a homophobic/transphobic politician who gets got. serial killers are serial killing, don't act surprised. needless to say: don't fucking try this at home, for all sorts of health reasons.

general: Reader is, as always, non-binary/genderqueer, fat/plus-sized, and also just plain Queer. afab anatomy is referenced for reader, so just be advised. otherwise, everything else is meant to be relatively neutral to let people have a more seamless experience, and suggested tweaks to that language are always appreciated.

general: well. this was meant to be part of @jmathesonandsiblings's Spooky Season in the Barrens (for 'covered in blood' and 'gore', in case you couldn't guess!) but life was Not Cooperating. :'D so! here's this, better late than never!!

'...hey rae wtf is with that warning section' buddy, your guess is as good as mine, honest to god.)

Standing on the back porch in the dark always reminded you just how far the House was from anywhere else in Greymoon.

The autumn chill was still nowhere to be found, the last crickets of the warm weather singing uneasily around you. The cicadas had fallen silent weeks ago, leaving the evening air feeling almost… too big. Too capacious.

Like something else would ooze into where the familiar bayou lullabies should have been, concealing itself in the silence until it jumped out to surprise you.

But tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry as usual. The moon was full, pendulous, threatening to drip harvest honey all down the dangling strands of spanish moss and throwing your world into soft, gauzy focus.

You, however - your mind, your sight, the sense of certainty in the center of your ribs - had never felt clearer.

Your senses felt like the scalpel’s cold edge; the sussurrus of every breeze sounded like a chorus of whispers. The shadowy shapes in your peripheral vision, in the darkened corners of the porch and near the waiting light of the kitchen door, couldn’t draw your attention like they would have before. Like they wanted.

It was impossible to even think of those late shades when you were too busy listening to the sheer life all around you. Pulsing just beneath the night and your own skin was your heartbeat, calm and dependable and steady —

And one more besides, providing a counterpoint to the rhythm you could swear was filling the air around you.

You glanced down at your wrist again, the scarlet mark as fresh and vibrant as an open wound, glowing to rival the moon in your own tiny universe.

You hadn’t put much stock in any kind of invisible string when you were younger, red or otherwise. But when you brushed the sigil with two of your fingers, you almost swore you felt an answering tug from some distant spot.

A tug that you swore was growing stronger, more insistent, with the passing minutes. Something in the vast night was pulling you towards it, or itself towards you, already on course for an inevitable collision.

It must have gone well, you thought. Maxi had told you that the full moons always had more magic in them, even for that as necrotic as the Morvants’.

But the seasonal moons, the ones the world quietly turned around without anyone noticing anymore? Those were best of all.

All three of them had crept out tonight with some mysterious errand or another, each of them notably distracted during the daylight hours. You knew Hex and Rora wouldn’t be coming back before daybreak — they had their own people to visit, after whatever terrible deeds they’d done in the dark.

Maxi - or the Reaper - one of them - had promised they would come back for you, though.

They had even asked you, all sweetness and kisses, to wait for them, right at this spot.

So of course, there you stood. The unseasonably warm autumn caused your nightclothes to cling to your skin and every passing breeze to ghost a finger down your spine, somehow leaving you chilled and sweating all at once.

But he was near. He was so close, you were certain of it.

You had no idea how you knew — you’d barely seen him leave, already asleep in his bed when he’d kissed you goodbye and slipped near-seamlessly into the pitch black. But somewhere in the last hour, you had awakened instantaneously, as though you’d never even dreamed. You’d been walking down the stairs before you fully knew why, with not even a phone or a flashlight to guide you.

You had, however, at least paused to light the lone backyard jack-o-lantern to keep you company. You knew - again, no idea how - that he wouldn’t need it to guide him back to you. But you thought he might at least enjoy the welcome when he did arrive. A cheerful diabolical little smile he could see even from far away.

Your body sang, heady without so much as a single glass of wine. You wondered if your heartbeat always filled the world around you like this, consistent and assertive, and you’d just never bothered to really listen.

And there, again, just underneath - what had to be his, slightly slower, slightly harder. The reverb to yours, solid and deep.

Something dark to it, though you couldn’t say what or why.

Inhaling felt like drinking the warm, perfumed air, and you closed your eyes to let it wash more completely through your lungs. Your nerves twisted agreeably in anticipation of something, everything in you straining against the shroud-like black to catch every rustle, every ghostly step —

The taste of copper hit your tongue, heavy and brash, even before something took your hand.

You didn’t even realize you’d been extending it to the empty dark, only seeing when you finally opened your eyes that you’d been standing on the edge of the top step, your palm facing out as if expecting something.

And in answer, Maxi’s chilled hand clutched yours in his long fingers, the whole of it awash in clotting burgundy.

He was staring up at you from the bottom of the porch steps, eyes fully black behind his blood-spattered glasses. The usual red of his iris was everywhere else tonight - all over his face, clinging in his damp hair, utterly soaking his clothes. You knew immediately there would be no saving any of the fabric, even with hours of soaking. The knees of his trousers in particular were blooms of something near-black — stomach or arterial blood, you were willing to bet.

If you had been anyone else - if he had been anyone else - this would have been a vision that took away every chance you’d ever get at sleeping soundly again, until you finally breathed your last.

But instead, you found yourself smiling.

You stepped back, gently tugging him to follow you.

He walked up the steps as if asleep himself, almost immediately leaning down to be eye-to-eye with you as soon as he stepped onto the porch. For his perfect silence, his gaze felt searching, his face close to yours but still careful to leave you just enough room to lean away. To choose to remain clean of this, whatever new stain he’d brought home with him.

When he had you backed against the wall, his hands came to rest slowly at either side of your head as he continued to stare unblinkingly, his gaze an inescapable void. You knew from the way his palms were light as gossamer against the wall that you could break his stance and turn away if you really wanted. You could go back upstairs, leave him to come to and clean himself up. Pretend this whole thing wasn’t the life you had decided you wanted after all. He would understand when he was… sober, to speak. He really would. You knew that with absolute certainty.

With the slightest stuttering tilt of his head, there was an unspoken question he let hang between the two of you, as pendulous as the moon.

You reached up to his face, his skin sticking slightly against your palms as the blood continued to cool, and fully licked the waiting red from his lips.

The space between you was sealed by this. He was ravenous at your mouth, claiming yours with tongue and nipping teeth and a hunger that felt like the edge of a bottomless dark pit. You were caged between the sticky warmth of him and the solid wall behind you, his hands clutching at your waist, your stomach, his hips pressed impatiently to yours.

You shivered as his mouth moved lower, down your throat that you willingly exposed to him, at your clavicles, leaving bites sharp enough to bruise like they were jewelry. His knees dropped to the wood of the porch with a thud that would’ve made you wince if you hadn’t been so distracted, and you felt him mouthing, needy, at your chest and your stomach through your shirt.

You could only curl your fingers through his hair in response, your hands having to force their way through the tissue and heavy clots of blood that had tangled in it somehow. You would’ve worried about pulling if you knew he didn’t enjoy the pain, and when you broke through a lock plastered to his scalp, you felt him shiver lightly.

The hiss through your teeth was unbidden as his mouth dropped to the underwear you were wearing under your borrowed nightshirt, his tongue pressing a curious lick to the thin layer of fabric between your sex and his heat. When you pulled on his hair a little harder reflexively, he looked up at you, resting his chin on the softest part of your stomach under your navel.

He still said nothing, his eyes blacker than space itself, but the tiny exhale through his nose was all you needed to know what he was asking.

He stayed still as a statue as you bit your lip, pondering, scanning the backyard. There was no one here, you knew that. The nearest living neighbors were miles away. The dead ones — well. There’s nothing to say they wouldn’t watch.

But between the elemental contrast of his eyes and the moon above, you’d already made your decision.

When you looked back down at him and nodded, one hand left your thigh to yank your underwear down your legs with a force that nearly ripped it. You had barely enough time to see him lick his own lips in anticipation before there was a searing heat against your slit, and you gasped aloud to the now-silent yard.

There was the distinct smell of blood warming as he voraciously devoured you, sucking at your clit in a way that made your head fall back against the wall. He kissed your entrance like a man condemned receiving a reprieve a minute to his execution, like he thought he’d never get to taste you again. His hands clutched at your thighs, and every so often he would turn his attentions to one of them, kissing and nipping at the inside with a fervor that would’ve seared your face if the blood wasn’t already elsewhere.

Whenever you tried to move, your body shuddering and writhing at white hot electricity racing down your nerves, he would force your hips back against the wall with an iron certainty, pinning you there as he laved your clit and pushed his tongue into you the best he could.

As you gazed upward, unfocused, struck speechless and your breath elusive, you swore your vision was flickering.

Snippets of scarlet flashed in and out, your senses overwhelmed briefly with the impressions of somewhere else entirely: a ribbon of red that followed the sleek, precise strike of something silver.

Flesh opening itself to the impatient ripping of hands and steel, a rib cage being revealed like a boudoir.

A heart that still trembled in its home of muscle and bone even as an echoing scream died away, as the bespoke-suited man ( you recognized him, distantly - a state senator?) trapped and pinned between your (his - your?) thighs started to convulse from shock.

When the hands that now clutched your hips tore the heart from its proper place, holding it aloft as it ceased to clumsily twitch and spurt, the sound you made was something unholy.

You remembered faintly why you usually avoided wearing white, even to bed — the borrowed undershirt of his was now blooming with rust-colored stains, handprints overlapping over where the cloth covered your hips and stomach, swipes of red where his head had rested as he dipped the hard bridge of his nose just so to make you gasp, or grazed his cheek against the fabric as he circled your clit intensely enough to make your leg begin to shake.

You were barely aware of the world around you, but just enough to feel an insistent grinding against your shin, your surroundings coming into focus just enough for you to put together that he was already aching for attention from this alone. When you moved your leg just a fraction of an inch closer to his hips, he groaned gratefully while he still had the tip of his tongue in you, which in turn had you seizing his hair again just for the sake of having something to anchor you to earth.

You were trying your best not to double over him or fall, but your thighs were traitorous, too-warm and shaking slightly as you felt your juices already dripping down them - from your own cunt or Maxi’s panting mouth, you weren’t entirely sure, but it was all the same. Distantly, you were still aware of him rutting lightly against your ankle, and just the faintest sensation of something slick through the fabric of his pants.

You heard a sound that it took you a moment to realize was a word, and then a repetition to realize what was being said —

“Please,” a voice with an echo like something frigid rasped between lingering strokes of his tongue. Against your leg, you could feel the slightest shaking of his own thighs, the muscles taught with need.

Your hand clenched in the hair at the back of his neck as you finally let out a groan from the shadowed parts of you, shoving your clit roughly against his waiting tongue as you rode out the storm that felt like it had been building in you all night. He moaned low in his throat, holding admirably still so you could grind against his mouth with abandon until every last drop of your orgasm had pooled like liquid fire onto his tongue.

When your knees finally gave out, sending you sliding down the wall, he wordlessly moved his body further between your legs so he could catch you against him.

The two of you sat like that for a while, you straddling his lap, your chests heaving against one another as the smell of blood and sex permeated the air with every gasp and pant.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling almost blindly down the fabric of his vest, then his arms and his mussed rolled sleeves, as if to make sure he would stay solid under your touch. He pressed his forehead against yours in response, and you felt a mixture of blood and sweat transferring to your own skin with a heat that was near-searing.

His eyes were still pitch black as he gazed at you, mouth still slightly slack as he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t help but smile once more, your hands catching at his shoulders to pull him closer. Planting kisses to either side of his mouth, you hummed, soft in your throat. “What’d you do with the heart, lover boy?” He had to have known you’d seen. There was no way he hadn’t felt the memories, visions, whatever they were, passing from him to you as if he’d licked them into your skin.

The demon behind your beloved’s face leaned back slightly to give you a slow grin that exposed almost every tooth, tell-tale pieces of thin red tissue caught between a few towards the back.

“Oh yeah?” You were still checking him over, palpating flesh and bone gently in your palms to search for any sign of something wrong, something that might have been missed in the adrenaline of the chase and the subsequent catch. “You could’ve brought it home. I would’ve at least seared it with some seasoning for you.”

He made a sound from somewhere deep in his chest, pushing his face into the side of your neck to lave his tongue lovingly over the marks he’d left in his frenzy.

You giggled at this blatant affection — until a feeling under your palm made you suddenly still. A spot on his side was too warm, the blood too fresh even after his journey back. When you pressed cautiously, another warm wave covered your skin.

“Baby,” you said, leaning back to inspect the spot more thoroughly. “This is yours.”

Maxi followed your gaze even as his hands remained clawed at your hips, his still-pitch eyes looking more distractedly curious than concerned.

Your fingers discovered a rip in the fabric before you could tell it apart from any other bloodstain, parting the damp cloth to discover a wound that made you hiss through your teeth again.

“Maxi,” you whispered, even though being overheard had hardly been a concern mere minutes ago. “What happened?”

Your lover’s ribs had been grazed by something — experience you couldn’t imagine having years ago now told you, based on the angle and the specific marks of damage, that it was something close-range but not too sharp. An attempted defensive wound from the quarry, you guessed, remembering the brief scarlet flashes of Maxi pinning the man down for the prize between his ribs.

His own flesh was torn: too deep for some hydrogen peroxide and a bandaid, but hopefully able to fix itself relatively quickly with his own magic and a couple of sutures to hold it closed through the night.

“Come on,” you coaxed, trying to force yourself to your feet despite your body’s exhausted protests. “Let’s go get that clean.”

Maxi - or the Reaper, or the combination of them that had made enough peace to share his flesh for now - made a sound that was somewhere between a protesting groan and a sullen whine, caging you more insistently in a hug and nestling his ear over your own heart. You knew this now for the tell it was.

“I’m not saying we won’t still cuddle,” you said, unable to help a smile at his peculiar priorities. He was always clingy, but especially so when he wasn’t… entirely his human self. “But you can’t have an open wound in our bed, babe. You’ll drive yourself crazy with the bleach in the morning trying to get it clean before we open. Not to mention, you just changed the sheets yesterday, remember?”

Your demon was quiet, and though it was harder to tell when his eyes were monochrome, you got the distinct impression he was glancing off to the side as he always did when trying to recall something.

“Please?” You angled your head to kiss the end of his nose, causing him to blink in an owlish way that was almost entirely human. “You said I needed the practice, after all.”

He sat there, seeming to consider this, and for the briefest moment, a tongue that was slightly pointier than it usually presented probed absently at his teeth, as if searching for remnants of the evening’s ritual.

Before you could entreat him again, though, his eyes locked back on yours - and for an instant, you wondered just how that snide little grandstander, one who’d whipped his constituents into a frenzy about the ungodly corruption lurking in schools and public libraries, had felt when he realized just what kind of “demonic influence” he’d failed to take into account.

A secret part of you, one you would’ve refused to acknowledge not too long ago, hoped he’d felt every second of it.

But before you could linger too long on this thought, Maxi gave a small sigh through his nose - assent, you guessed, combined with a sleepily satisfied urge to return to closeness quickly.

“That’s my good boy.” Your smile grew to a grin. Demon scion of an ancient line of necromancers or not, he was still quite agreeable when it counted.

The grin stretched his features again, eager and weirdly sweet despite the deep red stains on his teeth.

As you tried to stand again, he lifted you to your feet as though you weighed next to nothing, taking a touch too long to gaze at your exposed thighs at his eye level before he drew himself up to his full height.

“Come on, you.” You rolled your eyes, taking his cold fingers in your own and leading him back inside.

He followed, a deeper, darker version of his familiar laugh echoing as the door closed behind you both.

The jack o lantern snuffed itself, though neither of you had bothered to check.

—

The bright lights of the embalming room activated as you walked through the drop-off door together. The tools needed were already carefully laid out on the embalming table, pre-sterilized and arranged in order of procedure as always. You hardly ever needed them - thankfully - but it was still a ritual he performed before every solo trip out of habit.

Too many years of having to fix himself alone made him overly prepared, you’d realized. There was still some part of him - you didn’t know how much - that always quietly expected the worst.

“Up,” you said as you washed your hands at the sink, too light to be a real order. You were already glancing nervously at the curved needle — it was new, fresh out of the wrapping, but the severity of the tools for the dead always made you a little gun shy when applying them to your still-mostly-alive soulmate.

Maxi hopped up on the table, his feet kicking just slightly as he watched you with keen interest. He could do this in his sleep — hell, he could probably still do it now, not entirely in his own mind. But you doing it seemed to delight him in some strange way.

“Shirt off.” You’d crossed to the table, now focused solely on trying to thread the thing, your hands shaking just a little as you were watched. You knew he would only ever offer gentle correction or guidance, but still. There were studies about how people were worse at things if they knew someone was looking at them, right?

There was motion in your peripheral vision as he wriggled free of the sticky dress shirt and the thin undershirt, the two of them tangled together as they were soaked all the way through. He tossed them lightly towards the crematory, as if also having come to the conclusion they were unsalvageable. His skin still had a rust-ish tinge even bare, small crystalline red clots occasionally dotting his dark chest hair.

“I’ll get your glasses next,” you added, glancing up at him as you set the needle down to pick up a sterilizing solution for the wound itself. “It’s a wonder you could see at all on the way home, handsome.”

Something laughed, too deep to be human. As used to the sound as you were now, it still set off goosebumps as some deep primal part of your brain tried to warn your body.

Run for your life, it whispered, generations of your ancestors echoing in your ears. Death is here, and it won’t leave until it has you.

He already did, though, you thought. Body and soul.

“I say something funny, love?” You looked back to him, the eerie grin, the empty eyes. You could tell the difference by now between a threat display and genuine amusement - this really did seem to be the latter. “This might sting,” you warned, reaching towards him with the cotton pad and stopping short so he could give you permission.

He nodded, and when you dabbed at the wound, you heard the sluice of air between his teeth. It wasn’t a pain reflex, though — at least, not all of it. It sounded too close to when he had his hair pulled.

“Didn’t need to see,” he hissed softly, his voice still double-layered. He closed his eyes, shuddering lightly as if enjoying you tending to the raw wound.

“No?” You trapped the tip of your tongue between your teeth as you cleaned, making sure you could tell where his prey’s blood stopped and his own continued to run and start to clot. “So why’d you need your glasses, then?”

Maxi made a soft, exasperated huff and nudged you gently with his elbow. The Reaper, as familiar as the two of you had gotten with each other — as intertwined as it was with the man you loved, as much as you didn’t quite understand where it ended and he began — was at least becoming more willing to joke around with you about its dark agenda.

“S’different,” he rasped again, his voice submerged in the otherworldly presence that still possessed him.

“Yeah?” You were stalling a little bit, the needle clutched in your dominant hand as you stared down the wound. For your relative lack of squeamishness with everything else about this arrangement… you still hated this part. The actual piercing of flesh.

He was already hurt, and you knew at his rate, it would be a mere flowering bruise by morning. But you were still somehow scared of hurting him more, despite everything. Despite the violence that had engendered it, the life that had already been taken.

A bloody hand covered your wrist, and you turned your attention back to the thing sitting in your partner’s body.

The fathomless eyes were somehow gentle, watching you, and you realized they were just beginning to lighten: the voids were sliding slowly from black to deepest maroon, the iris starting to somewhat distinguish itself from the sclera. The Reaper was giving the reins back, at least a little.

“I saw you,” their voices spoke again, and the ominous timbre had given way ever so slightly, like someone was fiddling with knobs on a speaker for balance. “Through the darkest parts of the night, I saw you there, bright as fire.”

You tilted your head, trying to figure out the metaphor, but he only nodded at the wrist he was covering.

“You think you don’t call to me like I call to you? I can always find you,” he said, and there was more of Maxi there. “Anywhere. In the pitchest black of this world or the next, you are mine.”

That would be utterly terrifying, if those teeth and eyes and that voice were coming from anywhere else.

But it was Maxi that tapped the back of your hand softy with his index finger - twice. Two squeezes, two taps, two knocks: your universal signal for ‘are you okay?’.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, trying to force your heart rate to slow so you could think clearly. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. “I do want to do it,” you added, looking at him so he could see you were genuine. “…Unless you rather would.”

You looked back to the wound again, frowning. You didn’t blame him; he’d been doing this so long, he could probably stitch up a whole body with his eyes closed when he needed to.

…Okay, maybe not quite, but you bet he could get pretty close.

“Try,” the thing said, and there was a stronger undercurrent of your partner in there than there had been yet. The smile was less tooth-y, but still a touch manic. “You can’t hurt me, pretty baby.”

“I wish I was that sure,” you mumbled. Even just looking at the wound again made your mouth automatically tug downwards at the corners.

But you took another deep breath, and the thing in your boyfriend’s lean frame sat up straighter, giving you better access to the angry red gash that split his pale skin.

You reached forward with the needle… before your hand stopped itself mid-air, second guessing yourself.

Glancing (what you thought was) surreptitiously to him, you startled ever so slightly when you realized he was still watching you, unblinking.

“All you have to do is look first,” he said. “Just look. See the shape of it.”

Nodding, you set the needle down on the steel surface, grateful for any excuse to get it out of your faintly trembling hand.

You stared at the wound instead, just as he said. You winced automatically at the angry red edges - you supposed you should be grateful whatever swiped him hadn’t been more serrated. But even if it wasn’t as deep as it could have been —

You didn’t realize what you were doing until your fingers rested, feather light and unsteady, at the very border of the torn flesh.

The Reaper inhaled sharply through his teeth, reminding you exactly what you were touching, what it was, and you went to withdraw your hand like it had been scalded…

Until you heard the tiniest little sound at the end of that hiss that made you pause.

A small, punctuating groan from deep in his chest, rich and dark — But one you recognized from another context entirely.

…No, you had to be getting some wires crossed somewhere. You leaned back in the chair, searching his face while your hand still hovered anxiously in place.

Once again, his gaze was riveted on you — but this time, rather than finding the void of space waiting in the sockets of his skull, you recognized the color of a deep wine.

No pupils still, so Maxi wasn’t alone. But he was definitely in there. No words passed between the pair of you, but the twitching, jerky tilt of his head was a question.

When you didn’t immediately voice the logical response - ‘no,’ obviously, there’s no way, not to mention the sanitary concerns… the response any other person would have given by now - the frozen, toothy smile somehow spread even wider.

Your brow furrowed. This was… not something the two of you had discussed before, as extensive as your discussions of desire often were.

And yet. Your eyes drifted to the wound again, scarlet and dark and… inviting. A split pomegranate, red with promise.

…Well. This was… new.

The Reaper shifted ever so slightly where he sat, and you clocked the way his thighs were pressed together, hopeful. The way the dress trousers seemed tighter than they had when you’d walked down here.

You sat all the way back in the chair, taking him in, nervously wetting your lips with your tongue. Even with the feeling of a double pulse racing now under your skin, you had to be totally sure.

“…Use your words,” you prompted, your voice hushed even in the sterile silence of the embalming room.

His head tilted the other way. “Kiss it better?” the layered voice asked, higher than usual, a note of pleading. He knew what he was asking, then.

Your eyes moved between those of the thing sitting in front of you, to the wound in its side, and back again.

You recognized a point of no return when you saw one.

A distant facet of you reasoned from the depths of your mind, as if in a dream: Did Thomas the Apostle not inquire of the wounds of his returned Lord, after all? Did he not part the flesh with his own to find his own proof of divinity, to alleviate his fear?

Was this really any different? Another form of worship, without the doubt?

Did that not make your love all the stronger, that you already knew you had nothing to be afraid of?

You got to your feet, resting your hands on the embalming table on either side of Maxi’s knees.

“Come here,” you whispered, but it was somehow less tentative than your earlier hush.

Maxi moved to the edge of the table, taller than you again when he was this close, and you leaned up to kiss the questioning smile.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, still, and more besides. Just the faintest trace of blood, not yours, not his.

Blood from too deep down to taste like a surface wound.

Maxi’s hand curled possessively around the back of your skull, and you wondered what it would feel like for your teeth to pop the thin membrane around the human heart.

Your hands were steady now in their purpose, moving between the two of you to free his cock. It was already hard again and leaking, and when your thumb slid the pre-cum along his slit, his hips bucked into your hand.

“Please, pretty?” he rasped against your lips, the need returned in full force.

As your hand moved lazily along his shaft, causing him to shiver and sigh, you looked again at the wound, leaning down as best you could without giving up your grasp on your prize.

The scarlet mouth waited in his flesh, hopeful, expectant.

With a bit of careful angling, you leaned closer. Your breath shook just slightly before you probed it with the very tip of your tongue.

Maxi was abruptly racked with a full-body shudder, his hissed curse somehow ethereal and unholy.

In your hand, you felt him spasm and flex, warm and heavy against your palm.

You swallowed the first mouthful of your lover’s blood like communion wine, searching inside yourself again first. Making sure.

Anything given in less than total faith in your love - in him, in you, the life you were building amidst the bones of those before - would be sacrilege.

The way he moaned when your tongue pushed further in relieved you of all doubt, however.

You weren’t entirely sure what to make of the feeling of blood flooding over your teeth and tongue as you kissed the gash in his side, lapping at the edges with the same greed he’d shown you. But you could feel the way his cock was achingly hard in your hand, the way his thighs began to shake as you could feel your mouth being coated with a red in a mirror of his when he’d arrived here. When he’d found you.

You used your free hand to hold his hip firmly in place when he tried to thrust against the hand gripping him, his fingers curling in your hair possessively.

“More,” he growled from somewhere down deep, and it was hard to tell which of them you were hearing speak. “Please, pretty, more, that’s perfect, that’s exactly…” He lost his words to something between a keen and a groan as you deepened the kiss, the warmth slicking your cheeks, your lips, dripping hotly down your chin.

You picked up your pace, your strokes faster and harder now as his mouth fell open and he outright panted, unable to hide just how much he was enjoying this. You sucked delicately at one edge of the wound, laving the place where the skin parted, and his head fell back with a moan.

“There, just there, that’s—” Maxi did his best to restrain a whine, his hips nearly arching off the table to meet your hand as your face was smeared in his blood.

You ran your tongue along the length of the injury, a bit dazed yourself in just how warm it was. How soft and willing the flesh was to part, even when it shouldn’t.

You heard his breathing hitch and felt him shift under your attention, turning slightly.

When your eyes flicked upwards to see what had changed, they locked with his, and his hips spasmed hard as his now-visible pupils ballooned black again to swallow the lingering red.

With a strangled guttural shout, he came over your hand messily, warm, coating your palm and fingers almost as much as you’d coated your face at his side.

You stroked him through his orgasm as he shook and whined desperately, wanting everything he had to give just as you’d given him.

You only stopped when he seized the front of your ruined night shirt and pulled you upright, seeming just as eager to taste his own blood in your mouth as you’d been to taste your orgasm.

There was an instant where the change from your tongue in him to his tongue in your mouth felt seamless, where you weren’t sure whom was gently probing at the delicate insides of the other, and the shiver down your spine was electric even as your stomach flipped dizzily.

“Thank you, sugar,” he whispered, peppering your face with kisses after the initial claiming. His hands were everywhere again, on your hips, in your hair, his arms encircling your back to keep you close. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, you damned beautiful creature.”

You laughed, half-breathless, one hand tangling in his hair to kiss him fiercely again. “What,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as the two of you half-swayed together. “The fuck?”

Maxi giggled, high and manic, and he tucked his face against the side of your neck - his favorite place. “I don’t know,” he whispered back, and there was a shake to his nervous giggle. “I don’t know. But god, did I like it.”

“I’ve - I’ve never done that before,” you turned, your lips against his cheek now as he pressed needy, open-mouthed kisses to your throat. “I’ve never thought to… I don’t know.”

“Well, I should hope not,” Maxi’s arms tightened their embrace slightly on your back, and you caught the scarlet gleam of his eyes through his hair and his glasses, his tell for ‘mine.’ You knew the Reaper was still there — if it had been just him, he would’ve been less concerned with that than other logistics.

“It’s just you, Maxi,” you soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. You stood between his thighs as he sat on the embalming table’s edge, and he tilted his head to catch your mouth again, the two of you still out of breath even as you couldn’t let each other go.

When you went to clean the mess off your hand, still waiting for you, he leaned over, his tongue brushing against and even caressing yours as you licked your palm clear together.

Maxi continued to suck hard on your index finger after, his eyes never leaving yours, until you pulled ever so slightly on the hair at the back of his neck. He shivered agreeably, and you kissed the other corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know what possessed me,” you said quietly, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve never done… anything like that. You’re just the only person I’ve wanted to let under my skin like this.” You nodded dreamily at your wrist with your mark, the obvious thing, but your other hand rested just at the edge of the open gash you’d just tongue-fucked.

Maxi chuckled, the sound still layered underneath by something demonic, and he tilted his head without separating from you. “You’re the only one I’d trust enough to undo me, darlin’.” He kissed the end of your nose, weirdly gentle even as both of your faces were still thoroughly coated in drying blood. “It’s not a wound when I’m with you. It’s just… opportunity.”

You actually laughed - a real, genuine sound, both your arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed your cheek with all the sweetness in the world.

The two of you lingered like that for a bit in the silence of the surrounding dead, your hearts beating confidently in sync despite the separation flesh between them.

If this was your forever, you thought to yourself, captivated by the hush of your shared breath, then you were fine with that. More than fine.

You weren’t sure who moved, who decided it was time, but at some point, the two of you wordlessly took your original places. In a comfortable, sleepy silence, you thoroughly cleaned the wound like you would have cleaned him off in your bedroom. Like he’d cleaned you countless times, lovingly and with ardent attention.

You were halfway through closing it, your stitches surprisingly even and measured, when he spoke again.

“There was a part of me,” Maxi said quietly, and it was all him. The Reaper had fully abated now. “That was convinced I could only ruin you.”

You glanced up at him, automatically skeptical as you continued your work. “Yeah?”

Maxi laughed, and it was low, with only a sliver of nervousness still. “I was convinced you were too good for all this. That you should have somethin’ else. Somethin’ better than… well.” He gestured around at the embalming room, at you working on his side. “A nice house in some suburb. Someone who loved you who was… safe. Who would never come home to you with so much dark at their heels. Who would never dream of — of contaminatin’ you with it.”

He looked away from you, and when he spoke again after a time, his voice was small. “I guess that part was right about me, huh.”

You snorted audibly, pausing what you were doing to meet his gaze. “Maxi. Look at me, baby.” When he complied, you spread your arms wide. “Do I look I’m here against my will?” You gestured to handiwork as you picked up the needle again. “Do I look like I’d be content to just sit and twiddle my thumbs in someone’s dollhouse, somewhere?”

He gazed at you, and you saw his eyes were just his again, a rich brown bordering on burgundy and looking vaguely dreamy as he studied your face.

Slowly, tentatively, he shook his head.

A part of you melted inwardly at how, even after all this time, a small smile crept over his face the longer he drank you in. Like he was always pleasantly surprised to recall just who had his heart, and vice versa.

“Really look, now,” you urged softly, leaning close to him again so you filled his vision. You gestured with a hand to the blood that thoroughly covered the lower half of your face. “Do I look like I think I’m ruined?”

Maxi’s eyes moved from yours down your face, lingering briefly on your lips before they met your gaze once more.

You leaned your forehead against his again, closing the gap between you. “All I see in this is a mirror of the person I love more than anything,” you whispered. With the hand that wasn’t hold the needle, you smeared some of the blood from your face on your fingers, then added it to the blood coating his skin. “That’s all.” You repeated the gesture in reverse, adding some of the blood from his skin to yours - even though you were sure it had transferred in your original acts, as well. The important thing was that he needed to see you choose it.

“I love you,” you reminded him softly. “And everything that comes with you.”

You returned your attention to the wound, tying off your stitches before opening a fresh bandage. “So what if that looks different on us?”

You smoothed the bandage and some clean gauze over the incision, sealing it off behind its protective barrier. You knew by morning, it would have no need of any of those things, already miraculously closed.

Your eyes returned to his, your hand lingering over your work nonetheless. “I already told you, there’s no one else I’d let under my skin,” you said, your lips barely an inch apart. “And you’re the only person I’d want to be with when I do something that scares me. When I might even scare myself.”

You didn’t think your eyes glowed like his, but for just an instant, you swore this is what it would feel like. This certainty. This resolve.

You let him see it on your face. “I chose you,” you said quietly. “And I chose this too. Whatever shape it takes. Or I take.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re the only person I’d trust with whatever I become, love.”

Maxi’s arms encircled your waist, and the way his eyes sparked with light again, you could swear the two of you would burn if you stayed this close.

“The dark is so much better with you in it,” he whispered. “If you’re happy, then I’d spend an eternity here with you.”

“Good.” You smiled, reveling in his closeness. “Because I’m happy.”

The moon outside was the only thing that came close to how bright you felt against that endless night when he kissed you again.

— If the mortuary opened an hour later the next morning, no one complained.

It couldn’t be helped — it had been a hell of a time getting all that blood out of your bed sheets.

Even then, with all the remaining tinges of rust, you’d both eventually conceded to relegate them to being for “fun” rather than for regular sleep.

They wouldn’t be the last set you ruined, by far.

(so uh. a very dear friend of mine mentioned they'd sent this blog to someone they liked irl. and I would just like to say, on the offchance they're still reading this at all -

sup ig. [waves]

anyway! if you've read this far, as always, you're a saint and also wow what are you doing a the devil's sacrament buddy :'D

this might be the last long-ish piece I post for a while bc I have to make a mad dash on my dissertation before the end of the semester, but I will still be here, circling, reading every word directed my way, thinking deeply on them, appreciating them, taking forever to respond as always

Ilu all <3 happy belated halloween, cheers to spooky season year-round for the believers)

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awkwardchaosposts · 4 months

Text

Icarus and his fool

Sherlock Holmes x Golden retriever!male reader (part 2)

TW: none

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

Stroh, Baroque,Electric. Sherlock didn't like change but he had found an interest in the new selection of violins.

He was busy admiring a certain classic edition when something startled him.

What on earth was that noise?

"You" his gaze narrowed. It's like you were some curse haunting him. A very cheerful curse he had to admit.

But that only made it worse. It was obnoxious. No one had a reason to be that happy.

"Hi" you greeted with excitement. Meeting a busy man like Sherlock once was a happy coincidence. Meeting him twice was a miracle.

"What's this?" he raised an eyebrow at the card you not so sneakily tried to get in his pocket.

"My business card. You never called me about that interview"

"I never intended to"

He moved around the shop only to be followed by you like some persistent pest. "Why not? You said you'd think about it"

"Perhaps I lied"

"Why?"

Unlike Sherlock you found this little chase game rather amusing,following him around the shop without complaint. Blissfully unaware that you were the sole reason for the man's grumpiness.

"I have an Iq of 230. Why would I punish my intelligent brain with an interview" he said as if it was the most dreadfully boring thing.

Sherlock's hands trailed over the spines of the record players that were proudly displayed in the middle of the shop on well kept shelves. Distracting himself as he waited for an insult,a comeback,just something that would prove you're not as idiotically pleasant as you seemed.

Instead he got an amused "Ok" and the most dreadful sound as you tried out an instrument you managed to get your hands on.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm making music"

He scoffed. How dare you slander the name of music like that?

"I guess we should add the meaning of music to the list of things you seemingly don't understand"

Your grin made him confused in ways that made his blood boil. Sherlock liked being in control. He could predict everyone's moves and know everything about them with just one look. But you. You were another story.

"I'll be taking that" he took the harmonica from you just as you were about to resume playing it

Your excitement shone like the sun.

"You're going to buy it for me?"

"What? No. Absolutely not"

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Will that be all?" the cashier asked after putting the harmonica and violin in one bag.

"Yes" he muttered,avoiding your giddy smile.

Weak. His mind degraded himself as he handed the young lady at the counter his debit card.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes #sherlock & co #male y/n #male reader #mlm #male x male #queer reader #aib fluff #221b baker street #golden retriver reader #golden retriver puppy #golden retriver boyfriend #golden retriever #comedy #soft sherlock

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armyangxls · 4 months

Text

Cozied Up In A Christmas Blizzard

Credit to @lomapack for gif

Nancy Drew x Plus Size Reader

Warning(s): Eating food?

Word Count: 826

Summary: Spending Christmas with your girlfriend Nancy inside cozied up, while outside a blizzard roars

You were currently rushing up the steps of your dear girlfriend's house in a practically full on blizzard with two gifts in your arms, you were holding them tightly, scared they were about to slip right out of your hands.

You knocked on the front door with your free hand, your fingers felt like they were about to fall off from the cold even with gloves.

You heard rushing footsteps and then the door swung open Nancy standing there.

"Y/n! Come in come in!" She hurried you into the warm comfy house away from the grubby hands of the cold and slammed the door behind you both.

She dragged you to the couch, taking the gifts from you and setting them on the coffee table.

Your teeth were slightly chattering.

"Hii, Merry Christmas!"

"Hii, Merry Christmas! Are you okay? Your teeth are literally chattering!" Nancy said, worried.

"Yeah, I'm alright!"

"Come here." She said, holding her arms out, she wrapped you up in a hug as you leaned onto her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"You're literally frozen!"

"Let me go make us some hot chocolate to warm you up!" She said, about to rush to the kitchen.

"Wait, can we open our Christmas Eve gifts now before we get comfy?"

"Yeah! Just don't freeze on me!" She said, with a worrying warning.

"Okay!" You said, softly smiling.

"Here you go!" You said, smugishly, handing her gift to her.

"Thank you!" She said, grabbing it.

She opened her gift as you opened yours, revealing

matching pajamas with celestial and Christmasy prints on them.

"Aww, I love them! And they're matching with yours, beyond adorable!" She said, her eyes seemed like they were turning into hearts like a cartoon character.

"You're welcome! I'm glad you love them!" You said, smiling big.

She threw her arms around you in cherishment.

"You're the best!" She said,

"Aww thank you! You're the best too!" You said, smiling, feeling giddy.

She grabbed your hand.

"Let's go change and comfy movie night begins!" She said, dragging you to her room so you both could change.

You both changed into your pajamas, they even had pockets in the pants, coziness taking over you, you had already started to unfreeze.

"You look gorgeous!" Nancy said, putting her hands on your round cheeks, and kissed your forehead.

"You look gorgeous too!" You said, softly smiling.

She moved her hands from your cheeks and slung her arm around you.

"Ready for the ultimate comfy movie night?"

"Yes! Beyond ready!"

"Yeah! I'll get the Hot chocolate and popcorn! Can you pick out our first movie?"

"Of course!" You said.

You both split ways, you continued on your way to the living room and Nancy went to the kitchen.

You already picked out a movie in your head so it only took a second to put it on, you turned your attention to the roaring blizzard outside out the window.

The sky was a gloomy white, frosty fog all around absorbing everything in it.

Everything was so empty but not, no people but piled with snow, cars, decorations, and lights.

"Ze comfy snacks are ready!" Nancy said in a fake Italian accent. Setting a tray with both of yours favorite candies, a container with snowflakes on them filled with popcorn and M&M's, and two mugs of hot chocolates.

"Awesome!" You said, smiling at her, then your eyes wandered back to the snowy window.

"Whatcha looking at?" She asked as she sat beside you.

"It literally looks like Krampus is about to jump out, out there! So snowy and foggy and spooky!" You said, goosebumps going up your arm

"It's a literal blizzard out there!" You said.

"Gosh, I hope not I wanna relax around Christmas."

I'll protect you though! I'm Nancy Drew!" She said, laughing, wrapping you up in her arms.

"Thank you, Nancy Drew!" You said, smiling, turning cozying up in her arms / cozying up against her.

"Of course! So what movie did you pick?" She asked, grabbing the popcorn.

"(Your favorite Christmas movie)" You said, smiling, grabbing some popcorn and eating it.

You grabbed your mug of hot chocolate as the movie started.

You were now in the middle of the movie, your mugs of hot chocolate drank up, your body now warm and cozy.

Your eyes wandered to Nancy who you were cuddled up with, She looked back at you.

“How are you feeling now?

“Perfectly cozy!” You said, your head resting on her chest

“I love you!” You said, sitting up a little and turning towards her

“I love you too!” She said, putting her hands on your cheeks.

She kisses you, her lips meeting yours, her lips soft as snowflake, a soft loving feeling going through you both, like a toasty fire on a frosty night.

You both pulled apart from the kiss.

“Merry Christmas love!” Nancy said, softly smiling.

“Merry Christmas Nancy!” You said as she kissed on your forehead.

Note(s): I hope you guys like this fanfic!! Merry belated Christmas and happy New Year's Eve!!

Taglist: @rose-and-thorn-fanfics

#Nancy Drew #nancy drew x reader #cw nancy drew #nancy drew x plus size reader #Nancy Drew x autistic reader #nancy drew x chubby reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #plus size reader #autistic reader #chubby reader #queer reader #christmas fanfic #Christmas #holiday #holiday fanfic

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certified-satisfied-maneater · 18 days

Text

Request Guidelines:

Main Masterlist

My ‘will do’s, won’t do’s’:

I don’t write smut. However, with older characters, I have no problem with sexual innuendos and suggestive themes.

Please try to make requests have some kind of age range. Particularly for ‘Harry Potter’ during Hogwarts years.

Not all requests will be done. Sometimes ideas just don’t get the creative juices flowing, I’ll always be sure to let you know if that’s the case. And I’ll always give it my best, beforehand.

I’m open to writing ‘genderbent’ characters, transgender characters, non-binary characters, queer characters, ‘monsterfied’ characters and any other thing you have to throw my way. I love all things that get conservatives squirming!!! Please just keep in mind that most of these things haven’t been a part of my personal experiences. If I ever get things wrong, have misjudged or stereotyped, let me know how to fix it.

I’m not a robot. I have a life outside of tumblr and writing. Your requests won’t always be done quickly and they won’t always turn out the way you imagined. That doesn’t give you the right to take it out on me. Be kind or leave, it’s very simple.

Romance is fun to write but I’m very open to writing platonic relationships too!

I love writing about polyamorous relationships! If you’ve got an idea, send that stuff in!!!!

I’ll mostly write for fem!reader, it’s what I’m most comfortable with. I’ll give male!reader and gn!reader my best though.

Formats: Headcannons. Extended Headcannons. Drabbles. One-shots. (Multi-part will only come if the inspiration strikes, unfortunately. Though you’re always welcome to suggest it!)

Requests are open for:

| x reader |

Addams Family 1991/Addams Family Values 1993. ⤸

• Poly!Morticia x Gomez

Harry Potter. ⤸

• Neville Longbottom

• Luna Lovegood

• Pansy Parkinson

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. ⤸

• Enoch O’Connor

• Olive Abroholos Elephanta

• Jacob Portman

Twilight. ⤸

• Alice Cullen

• Rosalie Hale

• Jasper Hale

• Emmet Cullen

• Poly!Rosalie x Emmet

• Poly!Alice x Jasper

| character x character |

Addams Family 1991/Addams Family Values 1993. ⤸

• Wednesday Addams x Joel Glicker (any age)

• Morticia Addams x Gomez Addams (any age)

Harry Potter. ⤸

• Neville Longbottom x Luna Lovegood

• Severus Snape x Wolfstar (any era)

(If you don’t have a request and would just like to talk fandom lore, headcannons or just about your day, please do! I’d love to interact with you guys!

If you wanted to request something that wasn’t on my list but you were wondering if I’d ever write/know of the character(s) you’re thinking of, send in some questions through the ask box. I’m always open to new fandoms for me to hyper-fixate on!)

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yumekomari · 6 months

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Freminet comforting a trans friend

I don’t know about anyone else but I fully headcanon Freminet to be trans-masc. I was just up past midnight thinking how comforting I think he would be and how he’d try to support someone close to him who is trans or identifies with the trans experience.

(I’m nonbinary and though it technically falls under the trans umbrella I know a lot of people don’t think it counts. I also experience gender dysphoria though and wrote this purely as a self indulgent piece because I needed it today…)

I also… have not read Freminet’s profile story nor listened to a majority of his voice lines yet so apologies if any of this is inaccurate or out of character.

This fic does lean romantic as I wrote it with that in mind but it’s mostly Freminet being flustered which could also read as him being shy (for the most part) so interpret it as you wish. This is pure comfort with a little fluff sprinkled here and there.

There is no mention of any specified gender or agab for the reader, this fic is for everyone <3

Reader pronouns used: You/Your

Written 21st October 2023

Word count: 2432

The evening is quiet as the dark of night has fallen over fontaine. The sound of silence fills the street as people snore away in their own beds. Not everywhere is quiet though as the sound of held back sobs and sniffles comes from the outskirts of the city. As a silhouette sits by the ocean, soft waves hitting the land at your feet, you sit curled up with your knees tight to your chest. Your own feelings trapped inside a scream you hold in as well as you can, a slight whimper leaving your lips every now and again as you once again have to hold it back.

At this time, a figure leaves his house in the night. The sound of his siblings snores and unstoppable thoughts keeping him from sleep. He lets out a sigh as he once again makes his way out to his favorite spot. That just so happens to also be by the sea. He is startled as he notices his friend is already sitting by the docks, one of the few people he counts as a friend… is sitting in his favorite spot, crying your eyes out. A tight tug in his chest is felt at the sight and though he doesn't initiate interactions often. Though he avoids people like the plague… how many times has his friend been there for him in his time of need? How many times have you comforted him and made him feel safe?... How many times has he felt guilty that he can’t do anything for you in return? Gathering all the courage he can muster, he takes another step forward. Letting the soft moonlight fall over his blond hair, dark blue coat that he’d haphazardly thrown over his pajamas and gentle freckles covering his face.

He approaches slowly, a bit worried he might scare you. What if you didn’t want his company? Would you mind if he sat next to you? Did you want to be alone right now? He shakes his head a little, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. He continues walking until he’s stood just a bit behind you.

“Hey… are you alright?” He voices softly out into the wind, waiting to see your reaction. You flinch at the notice that someone is around. You hastily wipe your tears before taking a small breath, risking a glance behind you to see who it is. “I’m fine thank you, just- oh…” You seem to calm a bit at noticing it’s him and he can’t help but feel a little happy that you don’t keep your hastily built iron walls in his presence. You soon finish drying your tears. “Yeah-... yeah I’m okay. Thank you though, Fremmie.” You look up at him with a small tight smile before facing back out to the ocean. A few moments go by as he tries to assess what to do next. Clearly you are not okay… but what can he do about it?

Sensing his hesitance you glance over your shoulder at him, patting the space beside you, motioning for him to sit down as well. He smiles a bit, the warmth in his chest growing, knowing that he is wanted here. He goes to sit down next to you, letting his legs rest over the edge of the docks, slightly swinging them back and first as you watch the ever moving ocean waves together. “Couldn’t sleep?” You gently ask out loud after a couple minutes have gone by in the comfortable silence. He nods, playing with his fingers as he tries to think of what to say, he wanted to comfort you after all but where should he even start?

“Yeah… I thought maybe the sound of the ocean could calm me down… But are you sure you’re okay? I… saw you crying…” You seem to freeze a bit as he finally acknowledges the earlier scene he came across.

“You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to but… Just… I want to be here for you too, as much as you are for me. So… if you wanted to talk, I’ll be here to listen…” He says, trailing off a bit at the end, you managed to hear all of it though and silence falls once again over you both for a bit longer as you think over his words. You’ve both known each other for quite a while now, you know how difficult it can be for Freminet to get the words he wants to say out, though you have noticed he’s gotten better at it and you’re very proud of him for that. A few minutes go by in the silence before a voice once again fills the air.

“It’s just… my body… doesn’t feel right.” Freminet looks up at you, thinking over your words. You still haven’t faced him, just looking down to the water below them. “Just… all the social rules don’t feel right… The way that people address me doesn’t feel right… seeing my own reflection feels like there’s a stranger staring back at me… The clothes that people expect me to wear, the things people expect me to be interested in, the way they expect me to act, it’s all!...It’s all just… wrong.”

He sees your grip on your knees tighten as you continue to speak. Your eyebrows forming lines over your forehead and your eyes once again growing glassy and foggy from the growing tears. He knows that feeling… better than he would have liked to… he knows what you’re going through. Looking back out over the horizon as a few birds dance silently through the sky, he speaks.

“I used to feel that way too… The clothing I would wear before I got to the orphanage, the way people expected me to act… the words people would address me with… the body I was born in… I know that feeling all too well.” You slowly lift your head from being buried in your knees. Turning to look at him after a moment, and he sees you out of the corner of his eye as you put the pieces together. “You… you too? you were…” You sound a little breathless, as if you didn’t believe it was possible but he simply nods.

“But- How- How did you…How did you…get to where you are now?...How… How do I get there too?” You still sound as if he’s given you the results of a solution to an unsolvable problem and he can't help but smile at your reaction. He remembers being in the same seat when the possibility was offered to him. You seem to flush a bit at his smile but don’t dare look away.

“After the orphanage took me in, we were all allowed to present however we wanted… and ´Father´ made sure that everyone was respected in that regard… The house of the hearth may be made to grow weapons for the Fatui but… somehow this… was an important rule to her… so no one dared to question it.” The house of the hearth may not be his favorite place but he can certainly thank ´Father´ for making the slight hope he had into a real possibility. And now, though the social rules still confound him and socializing is not his favorite thing, he gets to be himself now. And that, he’s thankful for.

You seem to be lost in thought for a moment, your gaze locked on the open air between you both. He takes in the way he can practically hear you thinking as the tear tracks on your cheeks slightly shimmer in the moonlight as they slowly dry. Your hair being swept by the wind every now and then as the waves of the ocean are the only ones speaking.

“Do you think… Do you think I could too?” You hesitantly whisper. A few seconds go by before you whip your head up from staring down at the floor of the docks. Freminet flinches for a second at the sharp movement but continues to listen for you to continue.

“Do you think… I could be myself too?...” Your voice a little louder, but he can see you’re not confident in the idea. As if it’s an impossible dream that you haven’t been allowed to even imagine. “I think so… and I want to support you… whatever you want to do about it.” He says quietly, a smile growing on his face as he once again looks down to his own hands, the eye contact becoming too much. Silence follows for a few moments and he starts to wonder if you heard him in the first place. Before he hears you sniffle again. Looking up in confusion he sees that you’re still looking straight at him, but the tears are once again streaming down your cheeks as you’re biting your lip trying not to let any sounds out.

He panics for a moment. He didn’t say anything wrong did he?! What is he supposed to do?? You see his panic though and do your best to give him a smile through the tears. “Thank you, I’d like that” You say as you try to wipe the tears again and he feels really relieved that they’re not sad tears anymore. He watches you try to stop the tears for a while but notices that they don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He feels himself lift his hand, not really sure what to do but… he trusts you, you make him feel safe and comfortable… and loved… he wants you to feel that way around him too. Before he can realize what he’s doing he’s grabbed your hand that was just on its way up to wipe more tears. For a second he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s gotten this far but even as he feels his face heat up from… embarrassment? flustered at his own boldness? He doesn’t quite know but regardless-

“It’s okay… sometimes you just need to let it out. Water carries emotions too you know?... and your tears might carry some of the negative ones you hold onto… so let them out please, and then you can fill that space with positive emotions instead…I… I’d like to help with that actually…if you’d allow it…” He trails off once again, feeling like his face is burning but still holding onto your hand. Tightly enough that you can feel safe but loose enough that you can easily get out if you so wanted to. He feels a bit awkward being so honest but it wouldn’t be the first time you both talked heavy emotions before. He feels your hand tighten a bit around his.

“I’d like that.. a lot actually.” You let out a small giggle through your still falling tears at the end and he glances up from both your interwoven hands to see your face is also carrying a gentle red and he can only imagine what his own face looks like at the moment. But he smiles back, keeping his focus on your hands. You both sit there in the silence, you sniffle here and there but otherwise the sound of the waves and the occasional bird is all that’s heard. Both your focus seems to be on your interlocked hands and at some point you start to rub little circles on his knuckles. He freezes for a moment at first but then starts to do the same to your own hand. A few more moments go by and neither of you have any idea what time it is or how long has passed by this point.

“If it’s okay to ask… How would you prefer to be addressed?... I know you might not want everyone to know yet, but… if you want, I could call you that when it’s just us?” You look up at him, away from the small fish that are now swimming in the water just below your feet. You look surprised at first and then really happy.. and then a bit thoughtful and confused again… But he only smiles a bit and looks back out to the ocean.

“It’s okay too if you don’t know yet… but whenever you do figure it out… if you want to, I could do that. And… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable… then I’d like to. I’ll… I’ll always be here for you… okay?” He seems to get more and more shy as the sentence goes on but he doesn’t stop, because he knows these are words he wants to say. Words that he thinks are important that you hear… that you know. That you’re aware he’ll always support you, that he cares about you and wants you to be happy… That there is someone who understands…

He manages to throw you a glance through the layer of shyness now at the forefront after his honest words and almost finds himself back in a blushing mess by the way you’re looking at him with such warmth in your eyes. You smile at him and nod, most of your tears having dried by this point and you look at him with such a gentle, caring look as you hold his hand a little tighter. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he tries to understand what that look means but before he has a chance you’re looking back out at the ocean… But you seem to be feeling a bit better. Whatever that feeling is, it can wait, as long as you’re okay, for the moment, everything is okay. He got the words out, you know he cares and will be there for you, he feels happy too as his goal of comforting you seems to have succeeded.

Maybe it’s time you both get some sleep soon, it is still in the middle of the night after all. But for just this moment, you stay and enjoy the midnight ocean breeze with him. You hold his hand with warmth and care. You smile despite the drying tear tracks and he can’t help but smile a bit too.

It’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out and whenever you’re ready, he’ll be there to support you with all he’s got and he knows that his siblings would accept you with open arms as well should you be comfortable with them knowing. There are people who care about you who would understand and do everything in their power to help. And he’s proud to be one of them.

-----{ ❤ }-----

Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day/night ❤

#freminet #freminet x reader #freminet x you #genshin x reader #genshin comfort #freminet fluff #freminet comfort #trans reader #queer reader #genshin freminet #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #freminet fanfic

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sititran · 2 years

Text

Coming Out (Avenger! Loki X Plus Sized Female Reader)

Relationship: Avenger!Loki x Plus Sized Female Reader

Summary: Reader has something she needs to share with Loki. (w/c 2.7k)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. smut. Language. MLW and WLW smut. some negative self talk,

AN: definitely not beta read. I haven't written smut in a LONG time so.... yeah, that. Kjaere is a nordic way of saying sweetheart (I saw another writer use it once who knows how long ago and i've been using it irl so it felt right to use)

Also struggled for the right image. Art by https://www.instagram.com/andlatitudeart/

Today would be the day you told him. You had wanted to tell him from the beginning, but you were shocked in to almost forgetting about it entirely.

It had been a whirlwind time- Loki moving into the tower full time, shortly followed by the massive feelings you developed for them. You found yourself next to each other often, which led to conversations, and before you knew it Loki was sharing a blanket with you during a movie in the common room. This had made you nervous, but Loki smiled, and tucked his hair behind his ear casually. That moment you knew you were done for, but kept it to yourself, knowing in your deep self that one Loki Laufeyson would never return the feelings. Men like Loki, ones who were as smart as they were good looking, (and dear lord was Loki good looking), did not get involved with people like you. They would make friendships, maybe flirt some to get you do to some favors for them, but never date or fall in love. No the “fat funny friend” didn’t get prince charming.

So it was such a shock that day, on the way back to the tower from a successful outing to the bookstore, that Loki took your hand in his. You were stunned into silence, as the affectionate touch lit your whole soul on fire. You walked in silence for a few blocks, until it had started raining. You had planned ahead, and had brought an umbrella, but had to drop Loki’s hand to open it. Once you did, and turned to Loki to encourage him to stay dry, he just flashed you his million watt smile before placing a searing kiss on your lips.

As soon as he pulled away, you started giggling. “Come now Loki, what on earth was that?”

“Beg your pardon? A Kiss? Surely You know what a kiss is, Darling.”

“And what is this…. Kiss? I can take a joke better than most, but I do not tolerate cruel tricks Laufeyson.”

This was when Loki’s brows furrowed. “Are you mocking me darling?”

“You mocked me first. Do you expect me to think that the trickster, YOU,” and you gestured to all of him, “would kiss… ME” and gestured to yourself.

“If you won’t take my word,” Loki had started and then took your face in his strong and lithe hands and kissed you again, begging your mouth with his, and when you granted access, slipped his tongue furiously around yours. When he finally let you come up for air, you exhaled a frosty breath.

“Is that clearer?” the god asked.

You had lost your words, and your defiant attitude. And managed to nod in agreement. In some unspoken understanding, you both rushed back to the tower, where Loki descended into you again in the elevator, and unbroken led you to his private quarters.

You blushed at the memory.

Hands flashing to pull, tug and tear the clothing from his muscular frame, and your soft curvaceous form. Kisses turning into nibbling, sucking, moans filling the air. In the heat of the moment you even forgot any self consciousness or mortification over your body, as Loki ministered his blistering hot mouth and cool venturesome touch furiously drawing out your first orgasm. Barely letting that one settle, he was dragging his cock over your soaked folds, as you grabbed for him. “Loki” you moaned, breathless, “Wait.” He paused and kissed you deeply. “Yes?” He asked as he peppered more kisses down your neck. He nibbled your pulse point on your neck, while gently rolling your nipple between his fingers, eliciting a new moan. “Don’t you want me to,” you struggled to say “return the favor?”

“hrm?” as each touch from him was making you quiver under his body. “I need you.” And Loki leaned back on his knees and firmly hoisted your hips towards him as if you weighed practically nothing. Rubbing his tip along your entrance, he muttered again. “I need, YOU.” Making sure his wild, lust filled eyes met yours as he slowly, yet surely bore into you. You released a deep and throaty moan, taking his considerable size in pleasure. Loki barely managed “Oh my good girl.” And you fluttered around him. He started slow, but did not take long to set a frantic pace as he chased his high. You were a mess underneath him, fists grabbing at the bed, moaning his name. You knew he was close when he brought his thumb to your clit, “Good girl taking me so well. Cum for me my good girl.” he praised and commanded. And the dam broke, a form of scream escaping your throat as you came and squirted all over Loki, as they too let his voice rasp out a sound as all of him tensed in orgasm. You both had laid there for a while, catching your breath, sweat glistening on your bodies in bliss. Loki pulled you to him and held you to his chest, nuzzling your hair.

It wasn’t long before you started to come back into your thoughts, and couldn’t believe what had just happened. You quickly pulled the sheet to cover yourself, keenly aware of just how much flesh was on display. Loki bemoaned “Oh there goes the best view on Midgard.”

“Look Loki.” you started, thoroughly embarrassed now. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Beg your pardon?” Loki began. “I try to demonstrate the passion that I feel for you, and you still believe it untrue? Oh no, my kjaere. I only have the sincerest of feelings for you. I would very much like to court you.”

“Did Thor put you up to this? Tony? Court me?”

“If you don’t want a relationship with me, please just say so. Don’t need to rub salt into the wound.”

“Wait… you’re serious? You want an actual relationship? With me?” You paused long. “Not just a joke? Not just a secret lay on the side?” You must have made a face as you said “Why?”

“Kjaere, yes. Yes- YOU, Why not you!?”

You buried your face into the bed. “Please don’t make me say it Loki.” came out muffled.

He lightly drew his lips along your still bare shoulder “As you wish. Kjaere..”

Thus started the whirlwind of the last few months of your relationship with Loki. It was so sweet, magical, so intense. You had never before felt so blissfully happy in a relationship, even if the copious PDA made you feel exposed at times. It was a special thrill to be seen in this new role, girlfriend, and others faced with the knowledge as well. Loki was not ashamed of you for even a moment.

He spent every moment he could, touching you, honoring you, making love to you, thrown back in rapturous ecstasy with you. And you were still surprised every time.

And one day, it occurred to you, that you weren’t being completely honest with yourself or Loki.

That night, after dinner, you encouraged Loki to have a drink with you out on the patio. With a deep sigh after a sip of your wine you spoke. “Loki”, “Kjaere” and he beckoned you to lean back into him on the chaise. You did, and he immediately casually wrapped you in his arm. “I need to tell you something,” You closed your eyes, heart pounding, fear boiling in your veins, terror in your voice.

“Loki, I’m queer. I don’t just like men.” There you said it. You took a giant gulp this time. Stammering, “I’m bi.” “Or pan.” “Something. Queer.”

Loki craned his neck to look your face. “Help me understand.” he politely asked. “is this regarding your, sexuality?”

Your hand was still a bit shaky as you drank the rest of your wine, Loki’s remaining virtually untouched. “It means, I like men and woman- sexually, romantically. That… that… it really doesn’t matter what the person’s gender identity is, that I can be attracted to them”

“Is that what midgardians call that?”

“Well, the understanding ones do. Others- like my family though- have different names for it.”

“Like what?”

“Abomination, sinner, to start.”

Loki’s demeanor changed. “They really said that?”

You nodded, finding the words lost, stuck in the lump in your throat, as your eyes welled with tears as memories flashed. He kissed your temple.

After a long moment, Loki spoke. “Well I suppose while on the subject, I should tell you, that this is me as well. In my time I have been known to, well frankly, bed a number of would be suitors. Maidens and Lords alike. It always tended to be a moot point in Asgard.”

“Did your father throw you out of the house for having kissed a girl?”

“Oh my sweet thing.” He held you tighter as the tears fell. “Odin is his own brand of horrid. It does nothing to ease the betrayal of your own kin. But I am still an abomination.”

“Because of Thanos and new York?”

“Because of what I am. I am not pure of Asgardian blood.”

Now it was your turn to look your lover in their eyes. “But you’re Thor’s brother.”

“Yes. Brothers of circumstance, shared history and battle. But not of blood. I am…. Of Jotunheim. A frost giant.” He shifted your seats, closed his eyes, and you gasped quietly as his pale skin faded into an icy blue, patterned ridges forming. Blood red eyes opened to gauge your reaction.

“You’re so beautiful… “tracing the line on his cheek.

“I am a monster.” And Loki turned his gaze away from you.

You gently lifted his chin back to look at him.

“Does it bother you at all that I’m queer? That I still have dreams about being with women while I’m with you? Do you worry I am going to cheat on you?”

Loki’s demeanor brightened. “Not at all darling. I know and trust you.”

“Then trust me, you’re no more a monster than I am. And if you refuse to agree- well then you are MY monster.” You kissed him softly. You could feel him smile. “I was terrified to tell you this Lo. Terrified you’d immediately break it off with me.” you leaned into him for comfort.

“Why would I do that?? I may be a monster but that’s pretty low.”

“It’s been enough for others before.” You said low and quiet. “I’ve been too happy to risk it.”

“Kjaere, don’t mistake me for one of these ridiculous Midgardians. I’ve suspected something to this affect for sometime. Before we started courting in fact. I didn’t realize it was such a worry for you, and for that I am sorry.”

“Wait… you knew?”

“SUSPECTED.”

You giggled out the remaining nervousness.

“Why do you think you’re a monster Lo?”

“The stories parents tell their children before sleep, the villains are often frost giants. Asgardian history itself is littered with frost giant horrors. Even my own past, I could not escape what I am.”

“But I love who you are”

You tensed as you realized what you had said, never having said it to another before. You could feel Loki still. You held your breath, debating just running away. Loki held you in place.

“Even in this barbaric form?” he looked at you with his piercing ruby eyes.

“Especially so.” and you kissed him hard, ignoring the chill from his skin.

“Norns. I don’t deserve it.”

“Fuck anyone who thinks that. Look at you, look at me. I’m the one who doesn’t make sense. You’re the most handsome person I’ve ever seen and I’m, just…” and you grabbed your curves for emphasis. “This.” spat out with more venom than ever before.

Loki chuckled. “We make quite the pair, don’t we.”

“gee thanks.” and you stood to leave. Loki grabbed your wrist.

“Love, you misunderstand me. We are too alike at times. I love you for who you are! These curves,” and he reverentially ran his hands over your form, “are just a bonus.”

You chuckled and curled into Loki’s arms. In comfortable silence you both looked out into the city, night descending and the lights taking over the view in peace. Soon though you started to feel the chill and after one shiver from you Loki faded his Jotunn form back to the familiar pale Asgardian body. All the anxiety melted away, feeling more secure in this moment than ever before.

“I have an idea, if you’re open to it.” he whispered. You could feel him move and shift again. You moved to see Loki- not as an Asgardian or even Jotunn - but this time as a tall woman, a dress even accentuating new godly cleavage. Your jaw fell slack.

She started to lead you inside. “It’s been ages since I last made love as a woman.”

That was all it took before you felt yourself melting into your desire for your beloved Loki.

Once back in their room, you could not pull yourself from her body. You kissed her soft lips, and ran your hands over the new softness of her hips, before daring to caress her breast over her dress. She let out a gasp as you played with the now hardening nipple through the fabric. She let you pull the dress over head, letting her even longer hair cascade over the bare skin. You felt on fire, your deep desires taking over.

“Is this your first time with a woman?” Loki asked, breathlessly.

You nodded your head “No”. “it may be surprising, but I’ve had threesomes before” you confessed.

Loki’s eyebrows raised. Before they could ask more questions you descended your mouth over the sweet bud of their hardened nipple, sucking just hard enough to pull a humming sound from her instead. Her hands were running under your top, reaching for your skin as well. Leaning back you whipped off your top and unhooked your bra before throwing it to the side of the bed. She smiled, seeing how erect your nipples were as well. She took one in her hand and pinched just hard enough for you to gasp, causing your own arousal. In a flurry of limbs, tongues and kisses, you were both became bare for each other, you leaning over Loki your own hair hanging down tickling their skin with a smirk from you. You couldn’t wait, you slid down their torso kissing as you slowly pushed her legs apart. Kissing and nipping at her soft thighs, as you teased her folds with a light touch, spreading her slickness before venturing close to the bud of her clit. When you lightly brushed your finger tip around it in a slow, deliberate circle, Loki bucked and shuddered. You looked your partner in the eye as you brought the same finger to your mouth and sucked all of her off.

“So sweet, I need more.” And you descended your mouth, throwing her leg over your shoulder. You lapped and worked your tongue on her clit, drinking of her pussy as if you found the oasis in the desert. As your ministrations brought her closer to her climax, Loki’s hips started to buck and grind on your face until you pushed your arm to pin them down to the mattress. You took your other hand and inserted your index finger inside while still sucking on her clit. She moaned as you slipped your middle finger in as well and started pumping, curving your fingers to find just that spot. You knew when you found it as Loki moaned louder than before. “Kjaere, don’t stop.” And you didn’t you kept going, faster than before and felt them tighten around your fingers. Straining against your arm Loki arched their back and tensed as they came, squirting on your hand and face.

You leaned back on your knees to catch the expression of surprise and bliss on your partner’s face, chest heaving as they worked to catch their breath. “That was new” they managed to say with a grin.

A few hours later, spent and exhausted, basking in the afterglow of so many orgasms (you had lost count after 7), you hummed a contented sigh into the neck of your lover.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

“nope. Ya fucked it out” you mumbled with a smile. “I love you Loki.”

“Oh my heart. I love you too, get some rest. I can show you how much more in the morning- and you can tell me that threesome story.”

You blushed.

“Deal.”

#Coming Out #loki x plus size reader #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #wlw loki #fem loki #wlw smut #bi loki #queer loki #queer reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson fanfic #star wars #avenger!loki #loki fanart #loki fandom

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denaliwrites · 6 months

Text

On the Brave Shit

Tenth Doctor x Genderfluid!Reader

Summary: Coming out is almost never easy, but with the Doctor everything is just a little bit easier.

Soundtrack: Bad Bitch by Tessa Violet

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Coming out. Some light anxiety. (I think it's light, anyway, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!)

"Did you know," the Doctor started carefully, leaning back against the TARDIS console and crossing his arms over his chest, "that Time Lords and Time Ladies regenerate?"

You closed the TARDIS door behind you, tilting your head as you paced up to join him at the console. "Okay?" you said as you reached him. There was a touch of fear in your voice, but mostly you were just confused.

"See, when Time Lords are hurt... hurt badly. When they die. Instead of dying, they -- we -- well, we sort of just. Don't."

You were trying so hard to follow him. You really were. "You... don't die?"

"We... we change. The old us dies, sort of. We keep all the old memories and all that, but our faces change. We become someone new." He scratched at the back of his head, before the same hand trailed over to rest over his mouth as he looked at you. Watched you.

"... Oh. So... you're not... you're not dying, right?" you asked in muted panic.

"What? Oh, no! No. Not for a long time yet, I should hope."

The sigh of relief you released was dramatic.

"See, the thing is... all that to say. Well. One of my friends in school. The Historian, we called him. Well, he got hurt one day. Very badly hurt. He would've died. Is the thing."

You stepped closer to him, taking his hand in yours comfortingly. "Oh, Doctor, I'm so sorry."

"No, no -- none of that! That's not the point." When he saw your stricken look, he softened. "Thank you, though," he said reassuringly, though you were still utterly confused by all this. "See, when Historian changed, he... was no longer a he."

Oh.

How the fuck did he figure that out?

"I... I, erm... Oh." You weren't exactly sure how to process what he'd said. How to proceed.

"Humans are different, obviously," he said casually, though you could feel his eyes watching you, gentle and caring. "But... I think it's probably the same principle, essentially."

"How did you..."

"Know? Oh, well.. I notice things, you know. That's -- that's what I do. Notice things."

You swallowed in dread. "Like what?"

"Well, for one, you spend an awfully long time in the TARDIS wardrobe," he said with a playfully annoyed sigh. "I didn't think much of it at first, but then I saw you dressing up in, well..."

Oh. Oh, no...

"Anyway. The point is. I think you're neat. As you are. Whatever that means."

You felt a tear streak down your cheek, and the Doctor gave your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Now that that's... you know. Erm. I've been calling you the one thing all this time. Is there anything else you wanna be called?"

You blanched, somehow not expecting him to A. be so chill with all this, and B. so willing to just go straight into it.

"Erm... yeah. I guess. Yeah. She, her, he, him... please."

"Applicable to presentation or regardless of?" he asked, and you felt another tear fall.

"Er... I think regardless of."

He nodded, pulling you to his chest in an impossibly gentle embrace. His lips pressed to the top of your head in a soft kiss, and his thumb wiped away your tears. "You're wonderful. And brilliant. And incredibly brave."

On your next adventure with the Doctor, you were pleased indeed when he effortlessly switched between pronouns, never missing a single beat, never faltering, never hesitating.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #queer reader #genderfluid reader #trans reader #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant

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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

Text

My Most Sacred Vow

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader is betrothed to Daemon, she and Rhaenyra promise themselves to each other with a secret wedding.

A/N: I’m gonna miss Milly as Rhaenyra so much my gf :(( also is anyone else feeling Emily Carey as Alicent? She’s beautiful too and I can’t find fics for her so pls send me recs (or let me know if ppl want Alicent fics…)

Your wedding to Daemon was only days away. To your family and to the rest of the realm this seemed to be a great honour, marrying into the royal family and becoming a princess. However, to you it was a great tragedy. He was the wrong Targaryen and only you and Rhaenyra knew that.

Had the world been different or if either you or your beloved Rhaenyra had been born a boy then you would have put pressure on your family to secure a match with her instead. You loved her with such an intense passion that you a purpose and a reason to breathe. To know Rhaenyra was to love her and you knew her better than anyone.

To marry Daemon would be a fiction and an insult to your true feelings.

Rhaenyra had taken the news of your betrothal particularly badly. She didn’t speak to her father or uncle for weeks and avoided pouring your own father’s cup at small council meetings. At night, you would sneak into her room and you would cling to each other desperately, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to do this once you were married.

It made her feel sick. The thought of Daemon’s hands and mouth on you where hers should be. Another cruel twist of fate having been born a woman. She pledged that when she became queen, she would change things and steal you back from her uncle. It consumed her thoughts beyond reason and kept her awake to ungodly hours.

Then it occurred to her, there was something she could still do to claim you. Marriage itself was nothing but a contract on paper. The vows only meant something when they were acted upon. If anything, Daemon certainly was not going to remain loyal to you. Nor was he going to play the role of the dutiful husband. Marriage is a political arrangement, he had told Rhaenyra. If that were true, then he surely would have no problem with his niece taking his bride as her own.

Rhaenyra decided that you would have your own wedding, promising yourselves to one another before you would have to leave and start your apocryphal role as Daemon’s wife.

Once Rhaenyra had something in her head, it was impossible for her to dispose of the idea. Not only that, she didn’t do things half-heartedly. This had to be special. It had to be perfect.

You were only too happy to accept Rhaenyra’s proposal, which came after a peaceful afternoon ride on Syrax. In her riding leathers, Rhaenyra had gotten down on one knee and presented you with a necklace that had been in the Targaryen family for centuries. She proclaimed that while in public you would continue the Targaryen name with Daemon but in private you should devote yourself to her.

You kept it on always, hidden underneath your dress at all times and close to your heart. In times of anxiety or distress, you would clutch on to it, feeling comforted by Rhaenyra’s love for you and proud that you would get to take her as your wife.

***

The twilight settling brought a light breeze, causing the sea of tiny flames dancing on the candles to accelerate in rhythm. A slight chill accompanied the breeze but any effect it may have on you or Rhaenyra was set-off by the warmth in each other.

Allies within the Red Keep entrusted and alibis created, you had set out on your divine mission together on the back of Syrax.

The cave was a nostalgic choice for a wedding, it was a place where Rhaenyra would often come as a child once she’d learnt how to ride a dragon. You were the only other person who had borne witness to it. Much like the ceremony you were hosting together tonight, it was your little secret.

She had forged a temple so that you could announce your love to one another, complete with candles and markings in the wall of your favourite poetry in high Valyrian. At the entrance to the cave, she had set up blankets and pillows so that you could spend your wedding night together under the stars. In amongst the ceremonial decorations there lay a dragon egg which was her wedding gift to you. After-all, this was the night that you were to become a dragon.

You looked around with adoration before looking back at her, having never felt more confident. She smiled back at you, slightly blushing but all the same proud of herself for the efforts she had went to for the occasion.

Her dress was made of gold satin. In fact, it was her very best but this was a special occasion and was befitting for it. She liked the luxury and status of gold, which made it a fine colour for her to be married in. Slung over her arm was a traditional Targaryen cloak made of black satin and had the famous three-headed dragon sigil sewn into it in red. When she wrapped it round you then you would become a Targaryen days earlier than the rest of the world expected.

Your own dress was red with black detailing, with a neckline low enough that it would show your necklace. In keeping with Westerosi tradition where a bride would wear the colours of her husband’s house, you intended this for Rhaenyra.

Luckily, the seamstress didn’t question your choice for your new dress, assuming that it was a bid to please Daemon. She complimented your choices and would spread word of your commitment to the match; a fortunate coincidence to allow you to keep up appearances.

“Ready?” Rhaenyra almost whispered. It was unnecessary as there wouldn’t be another soul for miles. But the setting was just too intimate and too special that she didn’t want to ruin it with her usual outspokenness.

“Ready.” You answered, grinning at her and feeling safe in her presence.

Rhaenyra took the cloak from her arm and wrapped it round your frame, tying it together delicately at the front. She indulged in a moment to take you in, wearing her house colours and her cloak all for her. It was mesmerising, that someone she loved could be so devoted to her. Daemon certainly did not deserve you.

“With this cloak I take you under my protection.” She started, taking your hands in hers.

“I promise to love no other and take you as you are. I will serve the realm and the people but I will always bear you in mind. I promise you first refusal, and that you will always have a place by my side. I will protect you and care for you. I will give you my bannermen, ships or any future dragons I may have should you wish it. I will devote myself to you entirely. I promise this as my most sacred vow.”

Rhaenyra was confident and poised in her speech, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. Although it was rehearsed, it had clearly been agonised over and it meant everything to you to hear those words come from her. It marked her incredible devotion that she usually conveyed with touch or acts of service.

You smiled tearily at her and it earned a little giggle from Rhaenyra, clearly proud of herself for inspiring such emotion from you.

“How did I do?” She asked with pride, clearly aware of her own success.

“Very good.” You smiled back, gently brushing your tears away with your thumb and readying yourself for your own vows.

“I promise that I will devote myself to you entirely. I will take a husband in name only but everything else I give unto you. Any children I may bear are to be considered yours. I will serve you as my Princess and future Queen before I consider my husband and will always put your needs first. I promise this as my most sacred vow.”

Your delivery was more direct than you thought it would be due to your choked throat. Rhaenyra seemed pleased with your speech, content to have been given her proper place within your heart.

The princess placed her hands on either side of your face and finalised the marriage with pulling you in for a deep and loving kiss. Kissing Rhaenyra was always stunning and natural and true. She was tender, holding her hands against your cheeks gently while yours found her waist, pulling her as close as humanly possible.

A wedding is intended to bind two souls into one forever. As the kiss deepened, the further your souls and hearts connected and forged in love. The fire of the dragon now burned within you, surging through your veins the longer that Rhaenyra held you and would remain there for all time coming. You were a Targaryen now and you were bounded to your love for life.

As she pulled you down on to the pillows beneath you, she mumbled something against your lips in between kisses.

“Hello, wife.”

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #young rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x female reader #queer reader #lgbt reader #daemon targaryen #daemon Targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen one shot #Rhaenyra Targaryen imagine #milly alcock x reader #milly alcock #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd #hotd season 1 #game of thrones fanfic

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