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pinkie-pop · 5 months

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"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon!Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Acrophobia, implied drugging of a drink (Not Reader's),

Note: This work is distinct from the previous two installments in that it does not follow a chronological timeline. Instead, it contains a collection of short stories and interactions.

“Ah, hello there [Name],” Kaeya says, catching you on one of the rare moments you’re alone. “I was just about to get some Sticky Honey Roast, do you want to join? My treat.” He must know it’s your favorite—one of the few things you have in common with the original Paimon—with the way he always seems to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

“Um, is that really okay? Aren’t you like, on duty?” Kaeya smiles, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’ll be our little secret,” he says. You try to smile at him as you think of ways to decline, but a betrayal from your stomach seals your fate. Your blue-haired companion chuckles at the loud grumble from your stomach and beckons you to follow him. ”Sounds like you’re in agreement. Then, let’s head down to Good Hunter,” he says, placing a hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk. It's a little uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything.

Kaeya is difficult to navigate, so you usually avoid him. You think he’s noticed, but he’s yet to say anything about it. Instead, the two of you engage in a silent tug-of-war, with him always trying to pull you in closer and you always trying to break away.

Well, at least the food’s free.

The two of you make your way down to Good Hunter, where you engage in awkward small talk as Kaeya stares you down uncomfortably. You’re about halfway through making some vague remark about the weather when Kaeya lets out something like a contented sigh, stopping you in your tracks.

“This is nice,” says Kaeya, resting his chin on his hand and looking at you with a gaze resembling something like tenderness. “They run me ragged at the Knights of Favonious—seeing you is like a breath of fresh air. I’d better be careful, otherwise I might get swept up in your gaze and forget everything else.”

“Run you ragged? Is Jean really that hard on you?” You say, pointedly ignoring his flirtatious remarks.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Why just the other day, I–” Kaeya pauses, as if sensing something. Slowly, he turns around.

“Go on,” says Jean, standing right behind him. “What happened next, Captain?” She enunciates the title with purpose, clearly angry but still smiling. Kaeya swallows, and gets an earful from Jean. You finish your meal in peace.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Just a little further–!” You say, oustretching your hand and teetering over the edge of the ladder, desperately trying not to look down. Lisa had asked you to help her with some menial tasks at the library. Right now, you're reshelving books as Lisa holds the ladder steady. You could have forgone the ladder and flown up to the shelves yourself, but after last time…you shudder. No, it’s much easier to use the ladder instead, although, really, you’d rather not be up here at all. Lisa had practically begged you to go up, citing her bad back as to why she couldn’t do it herself. “Ah, got it!” you say, smiling victoriously. You grin down at Lisa, only to realize just how high up you are.

Like waves crashing against the sand, the floor below you shifts and swirls as you fight to stay afloat. It is a meaningless fight, you know, for you are already falling. Time seems to slow down as you plummet to the floor. Logically, you know your fall should only take but a few seconds, but to you, it seems to stretch out for an eternity.

Your life flashes before your eyes. You see your family smiling at you from beyond a white light, you reach towards it, but there’s nothing there. You could save yourself by flying, but you’ve already vowed to never take to the skies again, and so down you fall. Falling is not all that dissimilar to flying, you see. It’s merely a matter of perspective.

Surely you must be close to the ground by now? It feels as though you’ve been plummeting down for ages.

You keep falling. Then, you stop.

Lisa catches you, her face mere cetemeters from yours. “I take it this means you’ve fallen for me?” She teases as your face heats up. You try to tell her to put you down, to ask about her back, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you lay there in her arms, gaping at her as if she had just grown three heads. Finally, she puts you down. You aren’t sure how long she kept you there, but you have a feeling it was longer than it needed to be.

The two of you finish shelving the books in silence, Lisa smiling the whole time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, Aether?” Your companion looks up at you in curiosity. You take a breath. ”If…we’re travelers, then, does that mean we don’t have a place to call home? What happens when our journey ends?” You look down, running a finger across the crescent scar on your hand—a nervous habit you picked up after coming to this world.

You had been thinking about this for a while. Ever since you fell into the lake three weeks ago. You have a home, but it's not here.

“Home, huh..?” Aether seems to be pondering over your question sincerely. No matter how silly or inconsequential your thoughts were, he always took you seriously. You liked that about him. “Home is wherever the three of us are,” he says at last. You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It was sweet of him to say that, but he’s only known you for a few months.

You open your mouth to speak, but Aether cuts you off before you get the chance to. “I mean it, you know. Even if you don’t believe it. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. You found me when I was at my lowest, when I was lost and missing the only family I’d ever known. You picked me back up and taught me about this world, even though it was foreign to you, too. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” Your face grows hot as you turn away.

You aren’t an idiot. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing in the whole world. But…perhaps because you didn’t want to hurt him, you always ignored the signs, no matter how obvious they may be.

You aren’t sure if you can ignore this one, though.

“I can’t stay.” How can you say that? You can’t. You have a home, but Aether isn’t a part of it. One day you’ll tell him.

Just not today.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Position your feet like this, then…” Eula stands behind you, her front nearly touching your back as she guides your arms into the proper positions. She’s close, nearly too close, and you can feel her hot breath on the nape of your neck as she instructs you. It’s hard to focus, but you do your best to follow her instructions. “Good. Now, from the top.” You do as she says and get back into starting position. Your feet start a shoulder widths apart, your hands above you, good, you’re starting off stopping. Next, move your hands like this and your feet like so.

Keep going, now. You’ve almost done it. Move slowly, don’t rush. Remember to breathe. You hold your current pose for three beats then slowly, carefully, move on to the next position. You drag the tip of your foot across the floor in a circular motion, then join it with your other one. You’re almost done now. It’s time for the finale.

Careful now, it’s the final stretch. Almost there, almost there—

You trip.

Internally cursing at your mistake, you hardly notice the way Eula’s arms swiftly wrap around you, keeping you from harm.

“You did well,” she says, walking towards the gramophone and taking out the record. She readies the song to play again, then steps back towards you. You never noticed it before, but even the way she walks is as elegant as a dance. You suppose that’s one perk of nobility.

“Thank you…”

“Now, let’s try again, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll spot you. Just focus on dancing.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

Aether fell asleep.

It was still early, but the day was not particularly kind to him. You suppose it’s natural for him to be a bit tired. Still, to fall asleep in the middle of a bar was…

Diluc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“If Aether’s too tired to walk back, there’s a spare room here that you can use. I doubt you’ll be able to carry him,” he says, wiping a glass. He’s been wiping the same glass for several minutes now…almost as if he were waiting for something...Or maybe he just switched them out when you weren’t looking. The glasses all look the same, after all.“Of course, if you’re worried about the comfort of such a room, I can always carry him back to my manor. You can stay in one of the spare rooms, too. I’ll let the maids know not to disturb the two of you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “But that shouldn’t be necessary. Aether’s a pretty light sleeper, I’m sure I can wake him, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Diluc glances over at you. “He looks pretty out of it.” You try jostling him, only for there to be no response. You continue trying on and off for the rest of the night. It is only until the tavern is minutes away from closing that you finally accept Diluc’s offer. You hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he was right. You couldn’t carry him all by yourself. You follow Diluc back to his manor. He seems uncharacteristically pleased.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dragonspine is cold.

You knew that, of course, but you had no ideea just how cold it really was. The game’s sheer cold gave you an idea, sure, but it left out just how biting the wind could be. A simple frost filter overlaid on top of gameplay could to nothing to convey just how freezing the place really was. Even now, bundled up in three layers of coat and standing next to a fire, the cold still found its way to creep past your defences, starting at your skin and seeping down into your bone.

You are cold. Freezing, even. To an almost literal degree. You think that if you were to start crying now, your tears woud freeze before they even left your eyes. Perhaps your eyelids would freeze shut, and perhaps you would never be able to open them again. It’s so cold that you wonder if you’ll ever feel warmth again. You wonder if such a thing is even possible.

You know these musings are silly, but alas, you cannot help them. It is far too cold to be thinking of anything else.

“Come here,” Albedo says, beckoning you over. You do so without thinking, though the chill makes you want to stay put. Albedo wraps a blanket around the two of you, then pulls you into his chest. You relax into him immediately, the warmth from his body overtaking you, fighting valiantly against the frigid air. For once, it seems to actually have a chance.

You snuggle in closer and Albedo wraps an arm around you, bringing you somehow closer than before as he rubs small circles into your back. It’s soothing. You sigh happily, too focused on the temperature to notice the possessive way he’s looking at you, too preoccupied to wonder why he doesn’t turn on the heater you saw hours ago.

You didn’t know it was possible for people to be this warm. Perhaps it is because Albedo is not a person at all. Albedo holds you as if you are his only lifeline, and, for a second, you find yourself wondering if he’s cold as well. Right, Albedo doesn’t get cold. He can’t.

So then, why is he holding you so tightly…?

•~•~•~•~•~•

There’s something almost hypnotic about his voice, or perhaps its about the way he strums his lyre. Is it because he’s a god? Or perhaps it’s simply a millenia of experience at play. Perhaps it is both. Perhaps neither. You don’t dwell on it. You’d miss the performance if you did, and what a shame that would be.

The two of you sit together, alone in the dead of night with only each other for company. You sat at the foot of the large statue in the middle of the city as he serenaded you. Perhaps it was a little egotistical of him, to sing for you under a statue of himself, but you are far too preoccupied in song to care.

The moon’s milky glow illuminates his face in a way that is almost ethereal. At times, you have found yourself wondering if Venti was truly a god fit of the title. It is only now, in times like this, that the truth of his divinity is realized. Words fall like honey from his lips as he sings, his nimble fingers plucking at the strings with precision and expertise. His skill is unmatched—not just in Mondstadt, but in the whole of Teyvat. Of this, you are certain.

The song comes to its end, and so too does your rendezvous.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You close the Archive.

“So that’s what the future has in store for me, huh?”

Taglist: @shadowkitty-me @probablynoposts @kissyhalik @persephone-kore-law @neverending-animelove @crxscnt @teravolting @resident-cryptid @esthelily @shellofthewall @dilucragnidvr @altheq0 @wegottastayfocus @jellothefool @c0l1fl0r @francisnyx @imma-just-chill @fantasyhopperhea @iamapotatoe @utahimechan @undecidingfate @saltystudentdefender @vee-love @ayameei @shadowkitty-me @fantasyhopperhea @c4xcocoa

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #diluc ragnvindr #yandere kaeya #yandere albedo #yandere aether #yandere lisa #yandere venti #yandere x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin

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wandasgf · 8 months

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MOVIESTAR. mdni. 18+.

pairings: natasha romanoff + camgirl!reader

summary: your girlfriend offers to help during one of your streams

warnings: dom!top!natasha, sub!bottom!reader, handcuffs, edging, fingering, mouth fucking

wc: 1.5k~

a/n: this very vaguely fits this req so, i hope you enjoy this anon !

When you had told your girlfriend what you’d been getting up to in your free time and why you were suddenly spending more money online shopping than you ever had before, this is not exactly how you expected her to react. Not that you thought she’d react poorly, she would never, but you certainly hadn’t expected her to want to appear in one of your streams.

Natasha doesn’t know why you’re so surprised, really. She just needs to make sure all the pathetic men and women watching know that you’re taken. That you only pretend to be interested in them because they throw money at you, nothing more than that, because you belong to her. And you would never belong to anyone else.

Well, that and you expressed that you weren’t entirely comfortable in front of the camera just yet, still shy and nervous about what to do and say, but your viewers didn’t seem to mind too much. And, well, if that was the case, who was Natasha to deprive everyone of seeing just how cute you are when you really get shy? It seemed a shame, really, to deprive them of that when you'd recently been talking about how much you wanted a new couch. Natasha was sure she'd get them to pay for it for you.

"C’mon, pretty girl... Show ‘em how you touch yourself for me,” Natasha murmurs into your ear, dipping her head down to nip at your earlobe. Her rough hands slide up and down your sides in what is supposed to be a comforting manner, but really just makes you squirm in her hold. “I thought you said you’ve done this before, princess? Don't be shy…” You huff at her words and roll your eyes, she’s acting like she doesn’t have your hands cuffed behind your back, like you’re disobeying her words on purpose.

Her hands move down to your thighs, blunt nails raking against your skin before gripping them and pulling them apart, showing off the damp spot on your lace panties. “Just look at how wet you are already—” she’s interrupted by the, in her opinion, incessant dinging sound of the donations finally starting to pour in and she takes a glance at the comments that accompany some of them.

[user2340293] donated $5: quit playing around and just fuck her already

[scarletmommy] donated $200: oh, a guest? how cute

[user04930291] donated $15: you’re so fucking hot

“Everyone's gettin’ so impatient, baby. C’mon, be a good girl.” Natasha smirks, a teasing laugh escaping her lips. She leans down to kiss at your neck, and then takes the opportunity to scrape her teeth against the soft skin there, threatening to bite down and leave her mark. “Tasha.. cut it out.” Her words and actions make your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

You don’t usually get so worked up when she teases you like this, but knowing that you’re streaming right now makes you more embarrassed than usual. “What? You need me to do everything for you now?” She squeezes your thigh before moving her hand up closer towards your core, ghosting her fingers along your skin, up your thigh, across the waistband of your paintes. You jolt when you feel it snap against your skin, the stinging feeling pulling a whine from your throat, “Natasha, please.”

“Hm? What was that?” She's just being mean now, wants to hear you get all desperate for her. “Please what? I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want, princess.” Natasha smirks, not that you can see it from where you’re sitting between her legs, but you can practically hear it in her voice. “Please, touch me.”

She had been teasing you practically all day, groping you whenever she could, whispering things into your ear, you couldn’t take it anymore. You know she probably planned this all along, getting you all desperate and then all of a sudden suggesting she appear on a stream with you. “See, was that so hard? All you had to do was ask.”

Natasha’s hand slides down the front of your clothed cunt, the heel of her palm grinding against your clit and pulling a whimper from your throat. Her fingertips ghost along the edge of your panties, teasing, for what feels like forever until she finally uses her other hand to pull your panties to the side. She hooks her arm under your leg to keep them apart just in case you decide to try and get shy again. She's reminded of the stream once more, when that awful dinging sound of the donations picks up again when your glistening cunt is exposed to the camera.

[user0012394] donated $15!

[mvriahill] donated $100!

[user1205938] donated $10!

Two of her fingers dip inside your drooling hole, but they’re gone just as fast as they came because she’s leaning forward to really show the camera how wet you are, pushing you forward with her. Your breasts are now on full display as well, threatening to spill out of the flimsy lace bra you’re wearing. She moves her fingers around in the light and spreads them apart to show off the string of slick dripping from them. “Look how excited our little moviestar is,” she grins, spreading your slick around her fingers before bringing them up to your mouth, “open up, princess.”

Her fingers push past your lips before you can even react to her words and you wrap your lips around them, tongue tracing the length of her fingers and then pushing between them, cleaning your slick off of them. Natasha pushes her fingers further into your mouth and you choke a little, gagging around them as tears begin to prick at your eyes. You look a little pitiful and Natasha’s not even being as rough with you as she usually is.

She's showing you off to the camera like some sort of whore now, really getting into it, looking at the screen showing the live feed. “See, isn’t this better? You just needed me to come here and show you how to properly stream, isn't that right, baby?” She uses her free hand to tug your bra down, “need to let them see all of you,” she says casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You're drooling around her fingers as she starts to play with your tongue, drool dripping down onto the bed sheets. “Just look at you, making such a mess already.” She hums as she starts to thrust her fingers into your mouth, and then you’re choking on her fingers again as she shoves them down your throat, tears starting to spill from your eyes. “Crying already? We're just getting started, princess,” she laughs, “you didn’t think I’d go easy just because we’re on camera, did you?”

[user8674439] donated $20!

[user5693842] donated $5!

[captaindanvers] donated $500!

She leans back and lets you settle against her as she continues pushing her fingers to the back of your throat. She holds them there for a second before pulling them out completely and letting out a little chuckle at the way you gasp for air.

She hooks her hand under your leg again to keep them open before moving her other hand back to your cunt. “Maybe I'll go a little easy. I have to keep some things just for me.” She murmurs, kissing the top of your head tenderly. Her fingers teasingly circle your clit as she speaks and you shiver slightly at the feeling of her spit-covered fingers against your slick cunt.

“Tasha, please, inside.” You plead, pulling against the cuffs around your wrists. If you could grab her wrist and force her hand down lower you would, stupid cuffs. “Well since you asked so nicely, sweetheart.” She grants you a little mercy by moving her hand lower and immediately sinking two fingers into your heat. The heel of her palm grinds against your clit as she thrusts her fingers in and out.

Little moans and whimpers slip past your lips as Natasha fingers you, curling her fingers every few thrusts just to hear the sounds she can pull out of you. The pads of her fingers drag against a particularly sensitive spot at the same time as her palm presses against your clit and your thighs try to snap shut instinctively. “Keep them open. Be a good girl.” Her other hand grips your thigh tightly and forces it open, her blunt nails digging into your flesh.

She can hear the annoying dinging of the donations and she tries her best to block it out. What a horrible noise. She finds the perfect way to drown it out when she picks up her pace and your moans get louder. You can feel yourself getting closer and your fists clench behind your back, “Tasha, f–fuck, please.”

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?” When you nod in response, Natasha does the unthinkable and takes her fingers away. You whine pathetically and she laughs, squeezing your thigh. “I didn't say you were allowed to cum. I told you, I have to keep some things just for me, baby.”

Natasha’s starting to think maybe this camming thing isn’t so bad after all.

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov smut

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bby-deerling · 3 months

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girlfriend (zoro x reader nsfw)

part of my 1600 follower event!

prompt is: show him what you do to me/late at night when the wind is free/we're gonna have to tell him/you'll only be a girlfriend/of mine

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.6k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, jealousy, established relationship, law is lowkey a freak, unrequited law x reader, voyeurism, jerking off, eavesdropping, unknowing exhibitionism, dirty talk, law considering using his devil fruit for (actually) nefarious purposes

tagging: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @kaizokuniichan

Lazy clouds roll overhead, making for an easy and uneventful day at sea. The soft rock of the ship is soothing, and the ocean mist turns you ticklish as it sprinkles across your face and into your hair. It was sublimely serene and peaceful—until your crewmates decide to make you the target of their mischief for the afternoon.

“Sanji wants to know what your boyfriend wants for lunch.” Nami asks as she approaches you next to the railing, a wicked grin on her face as Usopp tries his best to suppress a fit of giggles.

Brows knit together as you look at her, perplexed. “Why? He knows Zoro will eat just about anything besides chocolate.” you reply, still unsure as to why Sanji was bothering to ask considering he usually made his menus without even thinking to consider Zoro’s opinion, stating that the mosshead is too crude to have a fully developed sense of taste.

“No, not Zoro, your other boyfriend!” she teases, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes as Usopp cackles. Trafalgar Law had made himself quite comfortable around you during his temporary stay on the Sunny; it had started with an interest in a coin he was absentmindedly flicking into the air—you used to grade and collect them, after all—and it had devolved into him sticking close to your side, grumbling under his breath that you were the only person on the crew he could tolerate.

“Why am I the Law expert?” you hiss, frustrated and trying to keep your voice down. Truthfully, at a different, more naïve time in your life, Law’s strange charm and roundabout way of indirectly flirting with you through mumbled half-compliments would have had your wrapped around his finger, but not now; not when you had a support system of people to give you whole, unrestricted, free-flowing love. Not when you were in an idyllic partnership built on respect and growth. There was no room in your heart for Law and his cryptic platitudes beyond friendship—not when you were in love with Zoro.

“Because he sits and talks to you with that dopey look in his eyes as if he’s never seen a pretty girl before in his life! He’s so obvious it’s painful!” Usopp exclaims, causing you to sigh. Law considered himself smooth and sneaky, but the way he showed you preferential treatment was beyond glaringly obvious, and considering that nearly everyone else had picked up on it, it was only a matter of time before it spilled over into something that you weren’t quite prepared to deal with yet.

“Which is why I’ve been trying to ignore it.” you say through gritted teeth. Worry rushes through your veins as you consider the last week or so, replaying each interaction with him in his head to try to decipher if you had been encouraging his budding affections in any way. Unsatisfied with the vagueness of your conclusion, you reach for external validation. “I’m not doing anything to give him the wrong idea, am I?” you ask them, nervously digging your nails into your forearms.

“You’re just being friendly.” Nami says, reassuring you with a squeeze to your shoulder. “It’s just hilarious to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy.” You’d liken him more to a miserable wet cat than a puppy, sulking in corners and stealing you away to demand attention when it suited him, craving affection from you, but only on his own terms. It was a bid for control that was foreign to you and left a bitter distaste in your mouth, especially when you were accustomed to the mutual trust that you and Zoro shared.

“And a bit pathetic.” Usopp adds with a crooked grin.

“You’re one to talk about being pathetic.” Nami chimes in, unable to resist getting in a playful dig at her friend’s expense.

“Hey!” he exclaims, launching the two into a fit of unserious bickering as the sound of heavy boots against the deck approach them.

“Is that moron done with lunch yet?” Zoro asks with a huff, sweaty, fatigued, and irritated after a rough workout.

“Almost! Or at least he better be—I’m starving too.” you tell him with a smile; the look on your face visibly softens his frustration slightly, turning his anger into a gentle rumble.

“Idiot can’t even stick to a regular schedule.” he growls, leaning against the railing next to you. As Nami and Usopp remain engrossed in their sidebar conversation, you take the opportunity to softly ask him how his training went, and eagerly drink up each detail. In return, he wants you to relay him the details of your morning, and you do, with a dreamy smile of your face—a lovestruck look that’s not lost on your fellow crewmates.

“Look at that look in her eyes, it’s probably crushing his poor heart!” Nami whispers to Usopp, gesturing towards Law across the deck, who was slowly strolling towards the kitchen.

“The pain of unrequited love!” Usopp whispers back, tears nearly streaming down his face from both uncontrollable laughter and empathy for the Surgeon of Death’s plight.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Zoro barks out as he snaps his head towards them. They both point towards the doorway to the kitchen, where Law’s hat disappears into the room. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” he asks with a sigh.

“Nope!” Nami chirps, informing him that their course was securely set, and that the schadenfreude she and Usopp derived from watching Law fight a battle he was doomed to lose from the start was the most fun they’ve had in weeks. Zoro scoffs, appearing indifferent as he rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, but the tight grip he keeps around your waist betrays his annoyance and uneasiness as Nami’s words rattle around his head; both of you had considered the way the surgeon clung to you a bit odd, but hearing that other people had noticed it too had made the situation tangible, and suddenly makes Law’s presence next to you at the table unbearable—there was something unsettling about the fact that he would rather see the cook on his knees in front of you, pathetically begging for just one chance, than to have Law at the same table as you, let alone sitting beside you.

“Something bugging you, mosshead?” Sanji quips with a knowing smirk upon seeing Zoro’s arm wrapped around you. Frustrated, the swordsman doesn’t dignify him with a response; not in the talking mood, he removes his arm from around your torso in order to shovel food into his mouth and prevent any attempts at small talk. You’re engrossed in your own food, slurping up the wedding soup that Sanji had prepared for your lunch, ignoring the burns the hot broth leaves on the roof of your mouth. It was still far too hot for a reasonable person to eat, but as was often the case with Sanji’s cooking it was too good not to.

“Mmm…” you hum contently; the rest of the crew is used to your penchant to moan in delight when stuffing your face with a particularly good meal, but Law is unable to hide the way he stiffens like a board beside you as the sound that escapes your lips rings in his ears. “Sanji, this is delicious!” you say innocently, with glimmering enthusiasm, causing the cook’s lips to curl up into an appreciative smile and teasingly telling you it would taste even better if you had the patience to wait a while before digging in.

A few moments pass uneventfully as you scarf down the bread that accompanied your soup, until a sudden sensation running across your outer thigh causes you to nearly leap out of your own skin; peering under the table, the culprit is Law’s leg, pressed against your own. He’s a tall man, so the need for leg room would be a reasonable excuse, and scrutinizing his face reveals no outward trace of unscrupulous intentions; yet, at the same time he’s so transparent, unable to help himself from bouncing his knee alongside yours, as if desperate for the slightest bit of friction. The smallest of sighs escapes his lips as you lean away from the touch, confirming your suspicions; the realization makes you echo the sound, frustrated and disappointed that he was unable to be content with the friendship you were willing to offer and was instead so insistent on meddling in a place where he didn’t belong.

His behavior was starting to eat away at your last nerve, and evidently, Zoro shared your sentiment, becoming more possessive than usual when he makes love to you that night.

“Bet he jerks his pathetic cock to the thought of switching places with me…hah…but he doesn’t have the balls to do it.” Zoro whispers, panting into your ear as he snakes an arm underneath you to pull your waist closer; craving to feel your hot skin melt into his, he needs you trapped and caged between his arms, mewling and whimpering out a soft, pretty song as he pounds you into the floor. “He knows you need something bigger, don’t ya’, pretty girl?” he growls in your ear; it’s gravelly, possessive, and makes you flutter softly around him as you whine out an “Mhm… you feel s’good…” in response.

Lost and drowning in a haze of ecstasy, neither of you notice the soft blue light enveloping the room, nor the muffled, strangled gasps coming from outside the door as Law drags his hand down his cock, imagining burying himself inside you instead. For a brief moment, he does consider switching places with him, picturing the way your eyes would be blown wide with shock—shock that he’d fuck out of you until you’re drooling out the corner of your mouth and whimpering his name like a prayer. But as much as he desires it, burning up for you so much that he barely knows what to do with himself, he knows he can’t—it’s too twisted and dark; however, he can’t bring himself to dispel the room that he’s cast. He bargains with himself to come up with a justification to flick his wrist and take you that wouldn’t make him a monster—that wouldn’t turn you away from him entirely; it’s beyond tempting to give into his urges when one simple movement is all that separates him from the warmth of your core swallowing his cock whole. Choking back a groan as he fists himself, he wonders if, even for the briefest of moments, the mention of him made your mind go dark, fantasizing about having his cock deep inside of you. He wonders if he could get away with just a taste, switching places for just a fraction of a second—neither of you would notice a thing, and he would finally get his fix, and the opportunity to tremble at the tight, wet grip of your walls around him.

But he knows a moment wouldn’t be enough for him—not even close. He knows his length would be able to reach depths of you that Zoro never could, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to break you in, scramble your mind, and leave you unable to be dripping and wanting for anyone else but him. His wrist is twitching, wavering in tandem with his resolve; he’s moments away from tipping over the edge, the word shambles at the tip of his tongue, until a soft whining of Zoro’s name vibrates through the door, the word dripping with neediness and devotion. The sound leaves the bitter taste of bile at the back of Law’s tongue and his room falls apart, a crushing reminder that he’s alone, in a dark hallway that leads to the aquarium bar, jerking himself off in the middle of the night while Zoro gets to indulge in the comfort of your flesh.

Zoro’s name is hot on your tongue as he delivers you to burning red ecstasy, his calloused fingers rubbing circles into your aching bud as he ruts into you. “Need you, only need you, Zoro…” you murmur as blood rushes to your face, pooling in your cheeks as you pulse around him, mind shattered and vulnerable, only for him. The flutter of your walls makes him pull you even closer, sinking his teeth into your neck as you bury your face into the throw pillow on the ground in front of you and whimper.

“So good for me—you take it so good for me.” he mumbles; the sight of you falling apart underneath him lights a fire in soul that makes him give it to you harder—Law can hear the smack of his hips against yours through the door as he smears buds of precum across the tip of his cock with his palm. Limp and pliant as tingles of electricity continue to dance through your skin, you’re his, to have and to hold as he sees fit.

He knows your body like the rough, weathered palms of his hand, and in turn you know his; the intoxicating way he ruts into you, filling you until you can’t think straight, along with the tremble in his thighs lets you know he’s close. He holds you tight, the flesh of your back melting into his broad chest as he cums deep inside you, as if you’ll vaporize into thin air if he lets you go. The simple sensation of him wrapped around you is enough to get drunk on, and you silently wish you could stretch this moment out for an eternity.

“I love you.” you murmur to him as he crashes from his high, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

It’s soft and hushed, a raw rasp in your voice as your words blanket the room in an intimate sweetness, the kind that pulls on heartstrings so harshly that the rest of the world slips away. As Zoro echoes your sentiment, whispering a love you too in your ear and burying his head into the crook of your neck to savor the moment, Law selfishly twists your words in his mind, filling in the gaps and imagining them whispered to him instead.

“I love you, Law.”

Though it’s a mangled, manufactured creation of his own mind, he doesn’t care; just the concept of the words rolling off your tongue as you cry out for him is enough to make him spill his seed all over his jeans as he violently fucks his hand.

“I love you, Law...”

The words tumble in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he comes down from his high, tormenting him. He needs them to be real, to hear them spoken to him in hushed tones in quiet places hidden away from the world; he needs you to want him, to yearn for him, to crave him, to love him.

But you don’t.

You love Zoro.

At breakfast the next morning, Law stretches his legs underneath the table, lightly grazing his thigh against yours in the process; it’s intentional as it always is, the guilt and shame of his voyeurism doing nothing to dampen his futile attempts to sway you.

You jerk away from his touch, tilting your legs to your left, towards Zoro. So close, but so far, it’s infuriating enough to make him clench his jaw so hard he nearly breaks a tooth.

When you’re still hungry after finishing your plate, he quietly offers you the remnants left on his plate—he can barely stomach food at the moment anyways, not when he’s plagued with visions of you splayed out and spread open underneath another man.

Though he knows he can’t have you, Law can’t help but continue to give you his scraps.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #trafalgar law x you #law x you #zoro x y/n #law x y/n #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario

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estrellami-1 · 9 months

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If I Should Stay

Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eddie runs.

He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.

He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”

Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’alright, kiddo?”

“I think I hallucinated.”

Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”

He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”

Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.

Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears?”

“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.

When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.

Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”

He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”

He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”

“Steve. He told you.”

“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”

Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”

She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.

“Because I die?”

She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

#if I should stay #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #time travel fic #starambles

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genshindsau · 3 months

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Summary: Even after over a year of marriage, you and Diluc have yet to share an intimate night together. He knows that you have experience but he cant help the uncertainty he feels about himself. After gathering the courage, he managed to talk to you and now that he is in bed with you, he's shocked at how well you treat him.

CW: implied reverse harem, empress!reader, consort!au, sub!diluc, bottom Diluc, top!reader, oral (character recieving), soft!reader, virgin Diluc, Oral, hesitation, first time, handjob, spit, insecurity, diluc cumming embarrassingly easily after seeing reader's eyes. Its not a heavy/intense smut. Aftercare is implied. One mention of diluc get his palms hit during his childhood, mentions of masturbation.

From his position, Diluc felt the air leave his lungs. Having your own form above his, he could feel his heart in his throat and was afraid that you could hear it as well. This was what he wanted and yet he couldn't help the nerves that have been slowly building up inside of him since he prepared himself to talk to you all those days ago.

The two of you have been married for over a year now (closing in on your second year) and while things have definitely gotten better, intimacy has been reduced only to nightly embraced where you were gone in the morning or a stroke on his head throughout the day. At first it didn't bother him. He was fine with the positive acknowledgements and soft touches. They were more than enough to keep him happy and placated.

He couldn't help but remember the horror stories he has heard about how wives treat their husbands in bed. Sexual pleasure was never a priority to him. Sure, he got the basic education and how to best please his wife, but he was refrained from learning about anything else. Best to leave it to your wife to teach you what she wants, he remembers his mother telling him after he came home from one of his lessons.

He vaguely remembered get his palms hit with a ruler when he was younger after he tried masturbating for the first time. After that, he was basically told to never do that again and he left it as that. His need to please those around him winning over the momentary pleasure.

It wasn't until a few months ago that he felt an almost unfamiliar swirling in his stomach. Whenever a praise would slip past your lips or when one of your hand's would rest on his waist, his body would feel hot. He was far from stupid and knew why his body was acting up in your presence. However, just because he could acknowledge the changes in his body does not mean he was willing to approach this subject with you - at least not yet.

He knew that you were experienced. He has heard Tartaglia basically brag about his time with you. He has even heard the two of you through the walls a few times. It was never on purpose and he always got so flustered that he would run away the second he realized what was going on. He suspected you've also spent the night with Zhongli as well. However, with this knowledge it just increased his apprehension of broaching this subject with you. What can he really offer you? He knows the basics but is just laying there and being obedient going to offer you any real release?

With these thoughts in mind, he kept pushing back talking to you about this. It went on for weeks until almost a month has passed. It wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was the he knew that you were onto him. He wasn't exactly subtle with his lingering looks and the blush that would blossom on his face whenever he was lost in thought.

Thinking back to all the courage he had to build to talk to you, he couldn't bring himself to regret it - not as he felt himself shivering underneath you.

You had already disrobed him, chest bare and all he was left in were his cotton boxers which were getting increasing tighter. The contrast to you still being fully clothed above him left his mind slipping into a mindset he's not used to. You've always had power over him but with the two of you in this position, this fact became even more apparent and he can't say he disliked it.

Despite wanting this, he couldn't find it to allow himself to truly relax and enjoy what was about to happen. He needed to remain looking presentable, he needed to make sure he was desirable enough for you, he needed to make sure he sounded right, all of these thoughts kept him tense underneath you.

Your lips brushed against his own, so soft he barely felt it but you didn't pull away. You were giving him time to get comfortable with all of these new sensations. He lifted his head up, trying to chase after your lips and feel them more firmly against his own. It was an unconscious move and before he could regret it your warm palm came to cup his neck. You tilted his head back, angling him so that your lips could move against each other and rubbed your thumb against the skin of his jaw, trying to get him to relax more.

Diluc let out a sigh at the gentle touch, his shoulders and neck slowly untensing. Even with his mouth parted now, you didn't disconnect your lips from his. The wet feeling of your tongue running across his lower lips left him disorientated.

"mhh -" his own tongue peaked out, brushing against yours. You took this chance to run yours over his. His movements were clumsy but you hardly seemed to care as you surged forward, your tongue slipping into his mouth. He tried to follow your movement but was soon lost in your taste. He vaguely recognized the taste of peppermint and something spicy but it was a taste that was so pointedly you that it sent a wave of comfort through him.

Pulling away from him, there was a string of saliva between the two of you and he thought that, in a way, it was keeping your lips and body connected in a different way.

He heaved a breath as he stared at you. Your hand moved away from his jaw and he could barely suppress the whine that left him but he was quickly placated as you pushed the red strands away from his forehead. Your fingers trailed down the side of his face and he squirmed at the ticklish feeling.

He was cute, you thought as you watched him squirm under your touch. Even with the flushed face, spit-slicked lips, lust filled eyes, and body on almost full display, you couldn't help but appreciate the view in a more wholesome sense.

While the kiss had him relaxing underneath you, you knew that it wasn't enough, not yet.

Your lips connected once again before quickly moving to his cheek, jaw, then his neck. His breath hitched and under your ministrations you could feel his Adam's apple shift. He angled his head back and his hands came to clutch at the clothing at your side, pulling them taunt against you. The softness of your tongue followed by the slight pain of you biting down caused his body to tremble.

"hah - your highness," he called out, not actually wanting anything but it still slipped past his lips.

You hummed against his collarbone before pulling back and teasingly blowing cool air on the slick trail you left. Goosebump crept onto his body at the feeling.

"Doing okay?" The hand that was not holding your body weight above him rested on his waist, squeezing lightly for good measure.

He stilled underneath you, his head becoming more muddled by the second.

"ye-yeah." It was a soft whisper that left his lips.

With his permission, you reattached your lips to his collarbone before trailing down. After leaving more than enough marks on his collarbone you moved further down. As you got to his chest, his heart felt like it was going to leap out. To ease him into it, you ran your free hand across one of his pecks, your finger lightly grazing his nipple. He shifted underneath you but remained relatively quiet. On his other peck, you brushed your lips against his nipple, causing him to gasp out, his chest jerking up against you.

You brushed your lips over it a few times, feeling it pebble underneath you before you licked a broad strip over it with your tongue. The hand that was playing with the other side of his chest, lightly rolled his nipple between two of your fingers.

This was the first time he felt the wetness of your tongue over his chest. When you guys kissed before, you would run your hands over his chest but you never paid special attention like you were now and it was quickly becoming overwhelming. He bit down on his lips, one hand coming to rest over his mouth as his back remained arched.

Swirling your tongue over one you couldn't help but tug on it which got an immediate response from Diluc.

His hands left his mouth to grasp at your shoulder. He curled his fingers into your clothing, his nails digging into the cotton.

"hurts" he gasped out. It was painful but not unbearably so. He was just shocked and all the new feeling left him sensitive. You murmured an apology and soothingly ran your tongue over it before pressing one last kiss to his nipple. Instead of trailing down more you just switch to the other side of his chest and lavished it with the same amount of attention.

When you finally left his chest and went to move further South you felt him tense again, his stomach clenching underneath you. He had originally kept his gaze on the ceiling above him, scared he would lose all composure if he watched you suck and kiss all over his body.

You could sense some apprehension in his eyes and paused your movements. You sat back onto your heels between his legs and stared at him, your head angled to the side. You seemed to be assessing him. "If you're not comfortable, don't push yourself. It'll make this a bad experience for both of us."

Diluc bit his inner cheek, a bad habit he had. "I'm not uncomfortable per say. It's just.." he trailed off. He was embarrassed. Ashamed. Why couldn't he just lay still and let you do what you want. Tears formed at his waterline and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Just what?" Your hand move to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing the skin underneath his closed eyes.

"Nothing," he shook his head, mentally berating himself. "Just continue." He was the one who came to you for this, he had asked to experience this with you. It wouldn't be fair if he were to back out. Especially after seeing the obvious arousal straining against the front of your pants.

"No." You were stern as you address him. "Whatever you're thinking say it."

You could read Diluc very well and before he forced his own feelings away, you cut him off. "If you don't tell me, I will stop."

He felt a stirring in his stomach when he thought about you stopping and he knew that he did not want you too.

"I wish to continue this with you. I liked what you were previously doing but once you started going down, I got anxious." You did not rush him as he gathered his thoughts, your hands moving away from his face to caress the skin on his waist. "What if I do something wrong? What if I don't please you?"

"Why are you worrying about all of these what if's? It's your first time, expecting it to be perfect is unreasonable." You lips then morphed into a smirk. "Now, if your worried about not pleasing me I can assure you that is not something you have to worry about." You pushed your own arousal into his, grinding down on him which caused him to gasp out and his hips jerked against you. "See?"

You leaned back over him, your arms braced on the side of his head. "If you don't want me going further that's fine but personally speaking I'm really looking forward to tasting you."

Diluc twitched underneath you, his cock twitching in his boxers. "Still, I should be the one tast - pleasuring you." You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, an action you don't think you've ever seen him do before.

"If you want you can do that another time." He flushed at your words, at the insinuation that you guys were going to do this again even if he doesn't perform well. "But for now let me pleasure you." Your fingers played with the waist-band of his boxers, gently pulling them off of his hips as you kept your eyes on his face.

Diluc's face lost the majority of it's apprehension as he took in your words. Your face was now level with his navel and he sucked in a breath as your lips brushed against his skin. His stomach jumped as you took the skin between your teeth and lavished over it with your tongue.

"hahh - y/n, wa-wait," He couldn't contain the sounds that escaped him as he felt a wet softness brush against his length. His upper body jerked off the bed as he sat up. He was expecting the slight coarseness from your hands that he has become accustomed to feeling, what he wasn't expecting was to feel your lips of all things brush against his cock. "Its..." he tried to speak between his stuttering breaths. "its dirty."

You hummed against him, not pulling your lips away from him, one of your hands traveled up his chest and pushed him back against the bed. "It's not dirty."

Instead of waiting for him to reply, your tongue licked his slit, making sure to collect the pre-cum weeping out of the small opening. His hands scratched at the bedsheets underneath him, pulling it taunt. "See," you pulled away from him, sticking out your tongue to show him as you swallowed down some of his wetness.

The view of you tasting him and swallowing down his release left him dizzy with unknown pleasure. He thought you would be repulsed but instead you seemed to relish in his taste, opting to quickly put your lips back around the head of his cock. Swiping your tongue along his head, you lowered your head, taking more of him down your throat until the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat.

His back arched off the bed, hips pushing further into the bed. Your one hand that remained on his chest went to circle around his nipple and tug it between your fingers. Small gasps and moans left Diluc, his body unused to this type of stimulation which left him wriggling underneath you. The wetness of your saliva and the tightness of your throat left him barreling towards his release embarrassingly fast.

"Y/n... i-i," As he was whimpering out your name, you felt him twitch in your mouth and eased off of him, not wanting him to cum just yet. His body relaxed underneath you as the pleasure ebbed away. You pressed wet kisses against his thighs, your hands reaching down to rub at his thighs that were shaking.

"Feels good?" The smile on your lips indicating that you already knew the answer.

Puffs of breath left him. "overwhelming, but good."

"If you thought that was overwhelming wait until I get to here." Your finger traced his puffy rim. A yelp left his lips as you prodded him with one finger. His hand gripped your wrist, not stopping it but just holding it, anchoring himself. You gave him a second before pushing in one finger until you were knuckle deep inside of him.

Diluc squirmed from his spot, his hips arching into the one finger. Soft moans left him at the new intrusion. He felt the movement so distinctly inside of him yet it felt so far away from him. It felt good, but it wasn't exactly pleasurable.

He twitched around your finger as you pulled it out. "huh, why'd you - hngg!" The wetness of your tongue against his rim felt much different than it did on his cock. His body jerked up at the new feeling, aching to either get rid of it or get more of it - he wasn't sure.

Licking around his reddened rim, you inched a little bit of your tongue inside of him, feeling around before retreating once more. His hands jerked towards your head, an unconscious action that had him recoiling almost immediately.

"Sorry," he gasped out, his head thrown back as you continued your ministrations.

Pulling back only slightly, "s'okay." Your breath hit the wet area and caused him to shiver. "do what feels comfortable." You lick a broad strip against his rim and left a soft kiss before traveling up to his perinium. Continuing your path, you also lavished some attention on his balls which you felt constricting underneath your attention.

You took note as Diluc struggled underneath you, all these feelings new and most likely overwhelming for him. Yet the sounds that left him and his throbbing cock portrayed that he was enjoying everything you were doing. You licked a trail up his cock and that was when his hands went back to your head. He didn't tug at your hair or push your head. Instead opting to just keep his hands there.

You cleaned up the small pool of pre-cum and took delight in feeling his stomach twitch underneath you.

Diluc was caught off guard when he felt your lips back on his. He couldn't help but to scrunch up his face as he tasted himself on you. You must have noticed because you laughed a little against his lips.

"What? Doesn't taste good?"

His face reddened even further and he wanted to curl into himself. If he was another person he probably would have shoved you off of him but all he could do was stumble over his words.

"it's not - i mean - how can you.." he trailed off. "I just don't understand how you think it isn't gross." He sounded so docile and confused when he asked and you felt an ache in your chest.

"Regardless of what you've been told, I don't think it's disgusting." You pressed another kiss on his lips. "And your married to me now which means my word comes first, not anyone else." Your lips moved to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss there.

What he didn't notice was your hand creeping back towards his entrance. He gasped, his lips brushing against your own cheek and his eyes squeezed shut as you eased two of your fingers into him.

He squeezed down on your fingers, his stomach tightening up. There was a slight stretch but Diluc didn't feel any pain. He heard the soft murmurs leaving you, telling him to relax and trying to get him more comfortable. Your lips were caressing the skin on his neck, lavishing him with more marks.

The thought of them being visible tomorrow and others knowing what the two of you did caused his body to heat up. He spasmed around your fingers and you took the initiative to curl your two fingers.

Your fingers explored him, opting to curl inside of him and stretch him out. Diluc took some time before he finally got more comfortable with the new sensation, his body relaxing. Feeling inside of him, you managed to graze against that one soft and spongy spot that you were looking for. The pads of your fingers brushed against it, applying just the lightest pressure -

" - Ahh, ngg," he choked on his own spit, his body thrashing in your grasp. The sensations before were nothing compared to what he just felt. It was all encompassing. The pleasure swelling not in just his lower region but all over his body. Hips jerking up, his cock bobbed against his stomach as a little more pre-cum left him.

Hips grinding down against your fingers, you were barely doing anything, all the movement coming from his wriggling body which pushed your fingers deeper into him. The stretching of his rim and the gentle stimulation of your fingers left him teetering right on the edge. You gently pulled your fingers back, leaving his prostate alone before inserting one more finger.

Not thinking that he could handle more than one orgasm you did not want to rush him towards his end. You still wanted to be able to feel him spasm around your cock rather than your fingers.

You doubled your focus on stretching him out until you deemed him ready. With the withdrawal of your fingers, you lifted his legs, placing his knees over your elbows so that you had a better view. Diluc let out small sounds as you maneuvered him, his face flushing but he didn't try to object to the new position. You watched as his hole clenched around nothing, swallowing down the drool that wanted to leave you at this display.

His body heated up underneath your stare. Even with your eyes covered, he could feel the intensity of your gaze. He took a shaky breath, embarrassment once more encompassing his body.

"Are - " he coughed, clearing his voice. "are you just going to stare?"

A small sound of amusement left you. "Sorry." You're really not. "If hard not to stare at such beauty."

"I - you," stammering over his words he angled his head away, unable to look at you as you uttered such salacious words.

The presence of your own cock pressed up against his rim left him breathless. It wasn't until one of your empty hands rubbed over his thighs and stomach. "I need you to breathe for me." His mouth dropped open as he exhale, his tongue peaking out, wetting his bottom lip.

With the first shift of your hips, you kept your other hand near the head of your own cock, gently trying to ease it into him. As the head entered him, he tightened up around you, preventing you from pushing further into him.

A sigh left your mouth. It wasn't meant to be condensing or a sigh of disappointment but you could tell Diluc was getting lost in his head and preventing this from being a pleasurable moment. Diluc on the other hand winced, not from pain but from hearing the sigh that left you.

"Sweet boy, I need you to relax." Your hands ran down his sides, digging into the tense muscle.

Your lips caught his, redirecting his focus. "Just focus on me."

You took some time, letting him relax into the kiss before inching your hips forward. He gasped against your mouth as you were able to the tip of your cock full inside him with a small pop.

A groan left your lips as his warmth encompassed you, squeezing around your cock. The wisp of breath brushed against the skin of his neck. One of your hands left him and moved his arms to wrap around your shoulder.

With the sensation of you being inside of him for the first time, he didn't hesitate to tighten his grip around you, clinging to the comfort of your body.

"f' - ngg - ull," he stammered against your skin as he was stretched out around you.

"Hmm?" You put some space between your chests so that you could look at his face.

"feels, ahh, full." His nailed dug into the skin of your shoulder, hips grinding against you. You managed to get about half of yourself inside of him before you had to pause. Inching back out of him, you thrusted in, making sure to give him a little more of yourself each time.

His nails dug into the skin of your shoulder but you hardly registered the pain. You shifted you weight, enabling you to grab onto his thighs and move them so that they were wrapped around you. This movement allowed you to sink deeper into him.

"y/n - fuckk - mghh." He couldn't help the curse that left him. The new position causing you to hit spots inside of him that left him trembling with pleasure.

"Cursing are we?" you couldn't help but to tease him. "You must really feel good."

Panting against you he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. "Ye-eah," he squeezed around you, electing a groan from you. "its good."

Taking in the view of Diluc laying beneath you, you inwardly cursed at the cotton covering your eyes. With his red-hair spilled underneath him and flushed face you wanted to be able to take him in without anything of him being hidden.

"Fuck this," You roughly ripped the own cloth off of your eyes and threw it somewhere across the room. You maneuvered Diluc and was able to thrust in the rest of your cock. He lurched underneath you, hands scrambling to anchor himself as his walls stretched to accommodate you.

"huhhn" before he could question you he felt the air being punched out of him as you pulled back and sharply thrust into him. Your cock managed to graze against the same spongy spot but instead of only applying the barest amount of pressure like you did with your fingers, you shifted your hips, aiming them to hit that one special spot inside of him.

With you battering his prostate, his eyes had squeezed shut, lost in the intense feelings. His body freely jerked underneath you, moving with each of your harsh thrusts.

You changed your position, grabbing one of his legs and throwing it over your shoulder. "This pos - hahh," He tightened around you as he felt the stretch in his muscles. You opted to slow down and deepen your thrusts so they reach further into him. With the new movement, his eyes snapped open. As he made eye contact with you, he was flustered at the sudden hot, white pleasure that shot through him.

He had only seen your eyes a few times but with the onslaught of pleasure and then the shock of seeing your own lust-filled eyes caused him to convulse underneath you. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his hips jerked upwards, emptying himself on his stomach.

You thrusted a few more times making sure to ride him through what was definitely an intense orgasm. He was shaking underneath you, eyes glazed over with drool creeping out of the side of his lips. You brushed back his sweat-soaked hair and gently took his leg off of your shoulder. You applied light pressure to the muscle of his thigh as you placed it back onto the bed.

As you went to pull out of him, he seemed to come back to himself a little. His hands moved from around your shoulders and down to your waist. "What -" he licked his chapped lips. "What about you?"

"Its fine sweetheart," his heart pounded at the nickname. "Don't push yourself." With that you pulled out of him and he couldn't help the soft sounds that slipped past his lips. You couldn't help but gaze at his used rim which was stretched and gaping due to the emptiness.

You sat back on your knees and despite the soreness in his body, Diluc pushed himself up on shaky arms. It didn't feel right to him. Leaving you without having any real pleasure. Just one look down and he could tell you were still pent up.

"Wait," his hands clung onto you, desperate. "I can go on. You can keep using me. You," He stumbled over his words. "You need to, you need to come." He struggled to get out what he wanted to say.

You grasped his arms which were clinging onto you. "Diluc," you tried to keep your voice soft. "You're still shaking. Its your first time, I don't want to do anything to overwhelm you."

"But -" he gazed down at your cock which still stood prominently between your legs. You followed his gaze and shook your head. Grasping his chin between your fingers you directed his attention back towards you. "It's alright. Give it a few minutes." You ran you thumb over his bottom lip, an act of comfort, before letting go.

The conflict on his face was obvious. He gnawed on his lower lip, his eyes downcast. In a movement of spontaneity that surprised the both of you, Diluc moved his hands to rest on your body, closer to your groin than anything else. He still refrained from directly touching you, despite the desire to do so.

"Just... let me do this. For you." Pleading to you, his fingers hesitantly drummed against your skin.

You couldn't help the small groan that left you. You were trying to restrain yourself, not wanting to push him but with him pleading so sweetly towards you.

A handjob is the safest option, you muse. It wouldn't push him to do something he's uncomfortable with and it will probably be the quickest way to get him to rest so that you can get him cleaned.

You let out a sigh and relented. "Very well."

He perked up at the agreement. His hands remained at their spot before you grabbed one of his hands and took it off of your body. You moved it so that it was in front of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed down at the hands.

"A dry hand is uncomfortable," he nodded as he took in your words.

"You want me to.." he trailed off, embarrassment building up.

Your lips quirked up. "After everything we've just done, don't tell me you're embarrassed of a little spit."

He hesitate for only a moment before puckering his lips, the saliva pooled on his tongue and in his mouth before he ducked his head, avoiding eye contact before transferring it to his palm which you held firm in front of him.

"There you go," you cooed, your free hand pushing hair behind his ear, trying to make him more comfortable.

Guiding his hand, you then placed it on your own cock. Your gasp at the touch was quickly followed by Diluc's own gasp as he felt you pulse underneath his own palm. You let go off his hand, opting to lean back on your palms while he worked on figuring out what to do.

He hesitantly curled his hands around you, not applying much pressure. With very small movements, he jerked his hands up around your length.

He continued with delicate movements as his gaze flickered between his hand grasping your cock and your facial expressions. Their was obvious hesitation and you would be lying if you said his small movements weren't more frustrating rather than pleasurable.

Wrapping one hand around his, you tightened your grip, therefore tightening his own. "You don't have to be so delicate." You guided him with your own movements, showing him how you wanted him to move.

You curled his hands, making sure it twisted around your length as your hands moved up and down, causing his hand underneath yours to do the same thing. You lips was pulled between your teeth and you removed your hands from his.

He tried to replicate the movements you were just doing, imagining your hands still clasped over his and maneuvering it to your liking. As he twisted his wrist around the tip of you cock, your breath got caught in your throat. He watched as your own head tipped back a little bit and his eyes followed the movement of your throat at you swallowed back spit.

"That's good." It was barely a whisper but he still couldn't help the pride and happiness that swelled inside of him as he saw you visibly affected by him. "squeeze a bit tighter," he followed whatever instructions you gave him, flushing every time you praised him.

He couldn't help it when he swiped his thumb over your head, feeling your own pre-cum. the thought of bringing his thumb up to his mouth shocked him but he couldn't help the thrill of excitement at that thought. The only thing that brought him out of that thought was the thrusting of your hips up into his hands. "Just keep doing that." He focused his attention back on the top of your cock, taking note on how that seems to be more sensitive than anywhere else.

"Go faster." He sped up and watched as you came, your own essence covering his hand as a low moan left your lips.

Without realizing he brought his hand up to his mouth, his tongue poking out to taste your essence. Even as the taste of you flooded his mouth, he didn't really comprehend what he was doing, at least not until a laugh filled the air.

His hand dropped back to his lap as he gaze jerked back to you. You had a hand covering your mouth, most likely trying to suppress your laugh. "Fuck what are you doing to me, sweet boy?" You weren't making fun of him but he couldn't stop trying to stammer out an excuse. Instead, you grabbed one of the clothes that were thrown on the side of the bed and cleaned his hand. "C'mon, lets get your cleaned up before you entice me some more."

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #genshin impact #dom reader #c:diluc #c:empress #c:smut #genshin impact smut #sub diluc #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact au #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x oc #genshin smut

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leaawrites · 2 months

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Valentine's day kisses

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader

Warnings: fluff, kisses, valentine's day mentioned,

Summary: Percy brings flowers in hope of getting a Valentine

For everyone who needs a bit of love today! I love and appreciate you all so dearly <3

Masterlist

The first thing she woke up to was a fresh Bouquet of flowers beside her bed. Y/n looked around the room, trying to figure out who the mysterious sender was. No one looked at her in a way that told her they were it, they all only looked at her in expectation. None of her brother’s or sisters knew who had smuggled the flowers in here. Or more importantly, who was crazy enough to sneak into the Apollo cabin before dawn to surprise someone.

Apollo kids were always the first to wake, but not today. Today it was someone who wasn’t too afraid of potentially getting caught, but too bashful to admit that they were it.

“Looks like you’ve got a Valentine,” Laura chirped in from across the other side of the cabin, making the others laugh.

Y/n looked down, flowers in her hand, cheeks growing red. Whoever it was, she wanted to know who they were.

“Are you going to find out who it was?” It felt like Laura could read her mind. That wasn’t the first time it happened. She already did it when Y/n stared into the distance at one of their traditional campfires.

“He’s cute, I know. But stop thinking about him,” she told her back then.

“Who are you talking about?” Y/n asked since she wasn’t looking at anyone in particular.

“The new kid. Peter?” Laura guessed his name wrong.

“Percy,” Y/n corrected her.

She guessed wrong on purpose.

Y/n looked at her best friend, she knew her all too well.

“Of course, I will,” she answered confidently. Even though she had no idea where to start. “But where?”

“What is with outside the cabin?” Another camper said as he walked through the door.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at 1. How he knew about what they were talking about and 2. What he meant by it. The girl pushed her blanket away from her body, freeing her legs from the heat. The cold morning air hit her bare skin the moment she stepped outside the cabin. Everyone was watching her as she walked outside. She had no idea who or what would be outside, until she saw Percy Jackson leaning against the wall of Cabin 7.

“Percy Jackson,” she mused. “What brought you out here this early?”

“So, you like them?” He asked, partly answering her question, when only vague.

“You slipped the flowers beside my bed?” Y/n asked holding his gaze. She was always someone who would look the person she was talking to in the eyes out of respect.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” He smiled at her like a innocent boy.

Y/n laughed at him and his unusual shyness. He acted all relaxed when he was still leaning against the wall, but now that he’s face to face with the girl he secretly admired, the words left his mouth. There was no other sound coming from his vocal chords but a small laugh when he heard hers.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek in gratefulness. “What about, I get dressed and then we could go down to the lake or so?” She asked, trying to stop the tension between them.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling at her still. “Or you could teach me how to use bow and arrow?”

“I’m not sure if that will end well,” she said, amused at the memory of his first try with the gear.

“I mean, I’m a fast learner,” he shrugged, playing the embarrassing off with a cool facade.

“Sure you are,” Y/n said, before disappearing again into her cabin to get dressed for the day ahead.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #pjo show #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo fanfic #pjo imagine #valentines day

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avocad1s · 11 months

Text

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: The nation of Cryo welcomes you.

Characters Mentioned: The Fatui Harbingers & The Tsaritsa.

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned.

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Four Part Five (you are here!) Part Six

You alr know what I’m gonna say… not beta read :>

The Gnosis didn’t just connect the Archons to the Creator. It also connected them to Celestia.

Although very few understand it, one thing that is known is Celestia is the residence for the Gods. On rare occasions, mortals can ascend to Celestia if they preform great, heroic feats. Meaning even humans can achieve godhood.

However as the decades went by, the Archons begin cutting of their ties to Celestia after the Cataclysm. They decided to live in their respective nations rather than watching them from above.

Celestia, who noticed the reservations of the Seven, knew that it had to do something to keep its order intact.

“You’re Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“You should put your coat on now, we will be arriving on shore soon.”

A few hours has passed since you had made a detour in your journey gotten a on the boat with Childe, he was a talkative individual, boasting about his skills in combat or about the Tsaritsa. Yet when you asked about the other Harbingers he wouldn’t say much, he would vaguely mention something about their strength or their contribution to the Fatui.

Speaking of the Fatui, you still had your reservations about the infamous group. Though when you try to reassure yourself that you know the Cryo Archon better than anyone else, Aether’s words fills your ears.

You sigh slipping the soft material of the coat onto your arms, feeling your body instantly heat up.

“Lord Harbinger,” one of Childe’s soldiers approached the two of you in a stiff bow. “We have arrived.”

Just like with Sumeru, it seems the Snezhnaya had changed a great deal since the last time you were here. You could hardly believe that this nation had been on lock for many years.

Childe holds his hand out to you, “I’ll lead you, Your Grace.” You rest your hand in his gloved one causing him to smile wider as he leads off the boat onto the icy deck.

The deck and the pathway leading to the Zapolyarny palace has a scare amount of security. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose or if your arrival to Snezhnaya is unexpectedly early.

“Are you nervous, Your Grace?” Childe asks suddenly.

You swallow, could he feel your apprehension? As the two of you get closer to the Zapolyarny palace, you could feel the tension in your body increase. The overwhelming presence of malice the palace was giving off, you could only imagine who- or what- was in there.

He gives your hand a slight squeeze looking over at you, “there’s no need to be nervous, the Fatui and Her Majesty are your most loyal servants. We will never do anything to betray you.”

Nodding at his words, you try to ignore the goosebumps that just appeared on your skin.

Childe pushes open the large doors leading you inside the icy fortress. Even though it wasn’t very well lit, the decor in the inside was spectacular. Multiple banners hung from the support beams all of them with snowflakes decorated at the bottom of it. There were also dozens of pews that lead to the front of the room which seemed to be the most lit. Many soldiers stood near the wall gawking in your direction once you entered the palace, but with a simple glance, you could tell they were lower ranked. Not because of anything they were wearing, but because of the two who stood in front of you.

One you recognized to be the Cryo Archon but the other was someone you’ve never seen before. Both were all dressed nicely but still kept the cold weather in mind.

The Tsaritsa was the only one to approach you, she wasted no time grabbing your free hand with both of hers. “Your Grace please forgive me for my rude welcoming. If I had known you would arrive today-“

“You have no reason to apologize, I wish I was here under better circumstances…” you interrupt.

She lets go of your hand nodding, “having you here already means everything to me.”

You smile at her sweet words, the Tsaritsa was still the same as you remembered. Maybe letting the words of Yelan and Aether get to you was a bad idea.

“You must tired after your journey.” The Tsaritsa begins, “we’ve prepared a room just for you. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Truthfully, you would take any bed right now. Ever since you descended to Teyvat, you’ve been sleeping outside or not sleeping at all, you wouldn’t complain about any accommodations right now.

She looks back at the man who was watching your interaction, “my most trusted will guide you to your chamber. I will come check on you later.”

The Tsaritsa takes a step away from you, turning her attention to Childe who was still holding your hand. “Come with me Tartaglia,” she orders.

Childe hesitantly lets go of your hand giving you a reassuring smile, “don’t worry Your Grace, if you need anything from me, I’ll still be in the palace.”

It fell silent for a moment in the palace, only thing that could be heard is the faint footsteps of Childe and the Cryo Archon walking off as they whisper about something you couldn’t make out.

“Divine One…”

You focus your attention on the man in front of you. He had on a mask like the soldiers in the room with you but his only covered half of his face, his hair is white and his eyes… (or eye) were the most peculiar. It was definitely something you recognized but he was standing to far away for you to make out what it was exactly.

“My name is Pierro,” he introduces, “I will guide you to your chamber.”

So this was the Tsaritsa most trusted. It makes you wonder how long he’s been in the Fatui to earn such a title. He leads you down a hall in the opposite direction that the Tsaritsa had went, he doesn’t say anything keeping his gaze forward and his hands behind his back.

“Where are the others?” You ask breaking the silence.

He glances at you for a moment, “I’m assuming you mean the other Harbingers? They’ll be returning soon.”

Pierro stops in front of a double doored room at the end of the hall, “this is where you’ll be staying while in Snezhnaya, Divine One.” He opens the door for you allowing you to walk inside as he stands by the threshold.

The room was fairly dark, the only light coming from the fireplace on the furthest wall from the door. There was one large bed in the middle of the room and a couch by the fireplace. There was also a table with a few books neatly stacked on it.

“I hope you enjoy your time in the Zapolyarny Palace.” Pierro closes the door leaving you alone in the large room.

Once the door clicks, you pull the flower Aether had given you out of your pocket inspecting it closely. Luckily it hadn’t wilted while on your journey to Snezhnaya. You place the flower on the table shrugging off your coat draping it on the chair. You relax into the couch allowing the fireplace to keep you warm, unaware that this is the last time you’ll relax before knowing the truth yourself.

The Zapolyarny palace was more comforting than you thought it be.

Slouching on this couch has to be the first time you ever allowed yourself to fully relax since you descended to Teyvat. You didn’t even realized you were succumbing to sleep until you heard faint voices outside your door that brought your attention back to reality.

“Is their Grace really behind this door?”

“That’s what the Jester said, maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Why should it be you? Their Grace knows me, they’ll be more comfortable if I bring it to them.”

“It shouldn’t have been you who found them in the first place, Tartaglia. I’m higher ranked than you, it should be me who gives it to them.”

“Well if it’s purely based off our rankings than it should be me, no? I am the highest ranked out of us all since number one isn’t here.”

“You’d just scare them off Dottore!”

Their fighting immediately ceases causing you to sit up on the couch. We’re they aware you were listening or did they walk off to argue somewhere else. Neither answer made sense, you hadn’t made a noise since you noticed they were outside your door and you didn’t hear their footsteps or fading voices indicating that they walked off.

A soft knock is heard at the large doors.

“Your Grace,” a voice calls out. It was the Tsaritsa, “are you awake? May I come inside?”

You use your palms to straighten out your wrinkled clothing before answering, “yes I’m awake. Please come in.”

The door opens immediately and the Cryo Archon walks inside closing the door behind her.

“We’re you able to settle in?”

You nod, “yes! This room is perfect, thank you.”

“I’m glad…” she slowly approaches you on the coach before hesitantly sitting next to you. “Well there’s no point of beating around the bush… I’m assuming you know why I came to see you?”

You rest your hands in your lap giving her your full attention, “it’s about the False Creator. Right?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Tartaglia wasn’t lying when he said that I’ve figured out where the False Creator came from.”

You say nothing waiting for her to continue and after a best of silence she says, “Your Grace, there’s a reason why none of the Archons were alerted to your presence. We all removed our Gnosis.”

Your eyes widen, “what? Why?”

“It’s not because of you!” She quickly reassures, “we all still hold you in the highest regard, but to be connected to you we also have to be connected to…”

“…Celestia…” you finish her sentence. “Is there something wrong with Celestia? Why don’t you all want to be connected to it anymore?”

She brushes some of her hair off her shoulder, “when you went off world centuries ago and left Celestia in control of Teyvat, something changed.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

She shrugs, “I’m not entirely sure what happened but once you left, being in Celestia felt… wrong. Like none of us were supposed to be there but it was Celestia’s final order that made us cut our connection to it.”

“Celestia’s final order?”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Celestia had ordered us Archons to destroy Khaenri'ah under the guise that it was you who told us to.”

Once she had seen your face, it takes everything out of the Tsaritsa not to fall onto the floor and beg for your forgiveness, but telling you everything is whats important right now, even if you do hate her afterwards.

“We all thought it was you who told us to do it… and that’s when the other one had arrived. Pretending to be you, they reassured us that we did the right thing and that we had gotten rid of a nation filled with sinners.”

You notice her eyes fill with tears, she felt true guilt for what she and her fellow Archons had done. Reaching out, you place your hand on top of her silently urging her to continue.

“Celestia feared it was losing it’s control over Teyvat after us Archons stopped going there once you had departed. So it sent down a fake you to keep the control it had over the world. With the False Creator and the Gnosis, Celestia had Teyvat right in the palm of it’s hands.”

“Wait.” You interrupt, “if that’s all they did, then why was Khaenri'ah destroyed?”

You feel her hands trembling under yours, but before you can comment on it she continues. “Khaenri'ah had found out about Celestia’s plans to send down a False Creator. When Khaenri'ah had made plans to summon you, Celestia ordered the destruction of the nation. It’s what we call the Cataclysm.”

You remove your hand from hers bringing them up to your mouth. There’s no way she was actually telling the truth, Celestia had existed way before anyone on Teyvat did. It was one of your first creations, would it really betray you like that?

A cold hand on your cheek breaks you out of your thoughts, the Tsaritsa turns your head to look at her a frown apparent on her face.

“I know how this sounds your Grace but you must believe me. I would never tell you such a blasphemous lie if it weren’t the truth!”

“What were these plans Khaenri'ah had found?” Are the only words to leave your lips.

“A prototype.” She explains, “they had sent down a prototype to see if they could fool Khaenri'ah into believing it was actually you. Celestia knew that convincing that nation would be the hardest since it was the only nation without an Archon.”

You stand from your spot on the couch causing the Tsaritsa to jump up as well, her face looked frantic but she held her composure well. It was clear where the Fatui had gotten their cold nature from.

“And how exactly did you get all of this information?”

“There are many remnants of Khaenri'ah still around Teyvat Your Grace. Celestia wasn’t able to eradicate everything.” She explains.

There was a another silence between the two of you but it wasn’t like before, this time it felt suffocating. If what she claims is the truth that means your own creation, something you believed you could trust, had betrayed you. Now everything made sense. Everything Aether had told you about the remnants of Khaenri'ah still being present. He was there, he probably seen all of it.

You should’ve went with him when you had the chance. Outlander or not, you were conflicted on who you could trust now.

“Your Grace?” the Cryo Archon stutters out her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

You decide not to respond but her question continues to repeat in your mind. What are you going to do? If it was Celestia, then destroying the Imposter wouldn’t solve your problem. What if you decide to go off world again? Would Celestia just make another Fake Creator and take reign over your world once more? You couldn’t let that happen, it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“As unbelievable everything you just told me sounds, I’m going to trust you…”

Her body visibly relaxes at your explanation.

“Even though I still don’t know everything I wanted, if Celestia was the one who created the Imposter then I cannot waste anymore time. I must return to Sumeru and deal with them immediately.”

Note: I apologize for the five day wait, but this part took a lot of research on my end and yeah 💀 i already know there are some inaccuracies but for the sake of the plot idc. Anyways we have just reached the climax of the story, my plan is to wrap everything up in three more chapters but we’ll see how that turns out.

Taglist: @esthelily @the-dumber-scaramouche @grimreapersscythe @seawater-aurelia-writing @probablynoposts @genshin-impacts-me @itsredactedlove @chidouna @thedevioussmirk @hoo-hoo @chaoticfivesworld @akemiixx01 @lunarapple @nowords-onlybreathing @fangirlinindia @veyu002 @blackcoffex @kaveh-is-pretty @ariasdream @averycuriousperson @bloopthebat @chuuya-brainrot @crazydreamcat @sparklyphantom @multistanbee @bluebelony @mokakoto @mega-trash-cringe CLOSED

I apologize to anyone who has asked to be tagged over the past few days! Please know that I did see you but Tumblr is not allowing me to add anyone else to the Taglist :<

Also this blog has hit 200 followers in under two weeks… umm HELLO? where did all of you come from?!? Seriously though, I appreciate all of the love and support you all have given this story 🙏 I love you all platonically ofc !!!

#genshin cult #genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #self aware genshin #sagau Fatui #sagau x reader

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fatesundress · 6 months

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⭑ life of the party. tom riddle x reader

summary. when one game is ruined, another begins.

tags. explicitly fem afab reader, smut with as minimal plot as i can physically allow myself, minors SCRAMMM, loosely implied hogwarts university au as always, flirting via mutually assured jealousy, impeccable communication skills, established relationship, the guy the reader is talking to gets annoyed she doesn’t want him but he doesn’t do anything, religious undertones that might have accidentally become overtones, party setting (background drinking & general degeneracy), probably the meanest tom i’ll ever write and i still tried making him nice because lots of heavy jealousy tropes are misogynistic icks fo me, fingering, piv, a little degradation but that's life, fawwwk the weeknd but the song this is based on is so sexy, etc

note. Me writing this: nightguard: ON, religious themes: RIFE, shame: ABOUNDING. i am so embarrassed by this. have i mentioned smut doesn’t come naturally to me? i don’t even know how i got here. i’m on heelys at the proverbial skatepark and everyone else apprenticed under tony hawk. Do you understand? ok.

word count. 4.5k

request. yes!

He is what he is. Stoic, sacred, silent and then verbose. You knew he had his fixations before you knew him at all — no one made top of every class without a shadow of obsession to contrast the glint of their excellence — but you could not anticipate how that obsession might translate when applied to a person. You’re not sure he had either.

He is what he is. The muggle world taught him religion and in it he learned only the tenor of devotion. When his fingers take your jaw, trace slow at the stripes of your thighs, steady your hips from under you and hold tight, there’s reverence in it. His kisses don’t wane with the months gone by; they soften with purpose. They rouse with hunger. His eyes don’t waver. Should a good man gaze upon his altar? Should he smile like sin when he gets on his knees?

He does.

Tom Riddle is what he is and you solemnise in equal part.

You don’t come to these things often, taken aback by the sight of the Slytherin common room in ribbons and banners tattered within the first hour of the night. Bottles glow green in the lake-light on every available surface, scattered about the place and spilled in sticky puddles.

You’re a wallflower tonight, though not for lack of options. You observe from a comfortable distance the drunken antics of new adults, free to carry their liquor in hand rather than hidden away in pockets and pillowcases. There’s something vaguely entertaining about it, intoxicating where someone else might mind their business and actually get intoxicated, but you see no harm done. Whispers fall on your ears before the rumours make their rounds, couples slink away in the darkness where someone in the crowd might not notice, and the night’s first instance of someone hurrying up the stairs in tears comes barrelling right past you. You invent a story for why to keep yourself busy.

It’s all just buzz.

Now, if you don’t come often, he certainly doesn’t.

Tonight, he has, and for reasons explicable but few, you’ve found yourselves on opposite sides of the room.

It began on the green couch by the window with a chess set spilled across the velvet — a bet you made with him upon arrival; you find wizard’s chess trite, Tom finds it feckless, but it makes for a good challenge.

What else could convince a man so perpetually controlled to pour himself a drink? And you imagine, from his perspective: what else could convince a woman so determined to outwit him?

It’s for no nefarious reason — to slight him or see him stumble — but because you love the fractions of relief that colour him, soften him, temper him. It’s because he loves you in every shade, in every pliancy, in each and every fervour. But mostly it’s because you love kindly to best him, and he loves mirthfully to best you.

So you play. The game is slow and teasing, hard to see in the ripples of the lake, and toppled over in the final moves (which you’ll insist you were winning) by the same swaying body that spills its drink down the front of your dress. And so you’re up, brushing your index finger over the corner of Tom’s sudden scowl. You whisper like a joke not to kill anyone but he’s so quick to look like he might that you consider repeating yourself with more conviction.

You poke at the spot where his jaw is tense. “I’ll be right back.”

Drying liquor from lace is a matter of precision even with magic, and this is half-gelatinous like someone raided the kitchen’s supply of jelly and steeped it in something offensively alcoholic. You utilise the clearer light of the Slytherin girl’s lavatory, wetting your dress before evaporating the water from it. There’s the matter then of transforming the stained fabric back to its original colour, and you huff in the mirror at having a game you thought you didn’t care much for ruined so close to its end.

You care about Tom, though. The omphalos of your issue resides there.

(It is fair to say most of your issues reside there.)

With only minutes gone by, the common room crowd looks doubled when you return, and though you wade through you’re pushed back like debris caught in a tide, the bodies more stubborn rubble than you. So you retreat, stand flush at the wall with your arms crossed, and wait for Tom’s eyes to land on yours. To, perhaps, open your mind and let him in, tell him exhaustedly from afar that the game is at rest and you’re ready to leave.

But even he’s hard to find in the bodies unified in breath, flux like a big set of lungs — and nothing about Tom blurs into the background.

So you wait. You wallflower. You pour yourself a drink.

The moment stretches on longer than anticipated, and after many detached observations of the room, someone else finds you instead. He’s tall, blond to Tom's inkwell black, kissed by summer sun even as autumn soothes its blister. Your gaze wavers back to him a few times though his own is uncertain for all its focus. He seems to be waiting for you to stop, perhaps for the silhouette of someone else to slip by and prove you were looking at them instead. When no one else comes, he traverses the crowd with a straightened inch of pride, stepping through new colours until he’s close enough to you that the light settles emerald-black and you can see the great chasm of his beauty up close.

His freckles are carefully dusted, his structure strong, all squarish, rugged lines and shades of August.

The chasm is not a lack of allure, per se, it’s just a lack of him. One man’s August to your adherent’s December, the intention of his warmth, a thing that does not come to him like everything else but that he makes and makes and mends when it lapses because he does not want to see you cold. The singular reward of a rarity like that.

“Hi," you say, glancing over a broad shoulder.

“Evening," he responds. He takes you in with a look of (unappreciated) appreciation. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.”

He extends a hand. “Oliver Belby.”

“Pleasure.”

You don't offer much in the way of conversation. He’ll vie for your attention regardless of how much of it you offer. So you lean against the wall where the buzz of sound prickles your hair, let him talk, let his hand come up to rest beside your head, and you find Tom.

He’s right where you left him, a new clearing in the crowd making space for your eyes to meet.

His are ice even at a distance. As if you proselytise — as if you could — kneel for another man or let one kneel before you, all of your trysts together faithless.

They aren’t. He must know they aren’t.

But you put yourself here and standing at the target of his gaze has never been marred by the severity of it.

You decide then; when one game is ruined, another begins.

In truth, you can’t deny the element of theatrics in the way Tom denies everyone but you: his soft, penitent smile, the apologetic cant of his head, how his eyes can find you in any crowd and whoever is clinging onto his every word that night will follow his gaze and deflate when they discover you at the end of it. Sometimes it’s harsh. Final. He lacks the patience of pretence.

Sometimes, the week is dull. Sometimes, the whoever is undeterred. Sometimes you’ve pushed him here.

No — You’ve never done that before. This is new.

So it’s one of those weeks, and one of those whoevers, on an anomaly you may as well have directed the encounter yourself, and Tom is half-indulgent as he forces his eyes away and you force yours to stay.

You watch him from across the room as the woman drapes herself across the arm of his chair. There's a furious blush on her cheeks even in the dark, a pretty disarray to her shoulder-length hair, skirts pleated over knees she faces toward him. She smiles and offers him a glass of something, and you know for certain Tom understands this game because he accepts it, eyes flicking back to you as he swirls the glass in contest.

To that you take an inappreciable sip of your own.

“ — Which is why no one has even attempted to kill one in decades. And capturing one is another thing entirely. My mother works with the Greeks on occasion, and the nearest she came to a den was in the twenties. If she had gone any nearer I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm?” You look back at the man in front of you. His lips glisten with having licked them between every phrase.

“The manticores,” he says, undeterred.

“Right. Five-X beasts, aren’t they?”

“That’s what I said. I heard from one of my mother’s colleagues that — ”

The woman is whispering something in Tom’s ear, her hair on his cheek. He’s looking at you as if you had said the words. You don't shy away when Oliver leans in to whisper too. It's a strange, fractured language. Too intimate while too detached. Whispers from across the room, desire from another in the place of desire for each other. But the strangeness should not surprise you anymore. This is Tom: beautiful and wicked and the one you chose.

“ — And Nundus are worse. Deadliest creature there is — ”

She’s laughing about something, the woman. Half-reserved, she’s angled toward the party despite her leaning on his shoulder and the dissipating inches of distance.

“ — They stalk in silence. Think of the size of one, right? They’re apex predators… so commanding and still they could be in front of you one instant and gone the next.”

You engage with detached interest. “Really?”

And now Oliver barricades your view, his other hand coming to rest on your other shoulder.

“Do we have any classes together?”

You blink up at him. “No.”

“No, right,” he says, eyes darting to your lips. “I’d remember you.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you wonder if for some men one-sided discussions of class five beasts qualify as foreplay.

You place a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised and half a startled smile curled.

“You’re not going to kiss me," you inform him.

His face falls, but with it, at least, does his hand.

“Did you hear me?"

“It’s loud,” he decides suddenly. “Can we go somewhere else?”

You’re not sure you believe that.

You duck under an arm and search the crowd again. The woman is on the arm of the chair looking thoroughly dismayed, and for good reason —

Tom is gone.

Your breath is caught.

“This isn’t… You’re not going to…?”

You flash Oliver with a glare. “So you did hear me.”

He makes a pathetically sad face, and you think: it’s a wonder he made it this far when his courtship evidently hinges on the subject of his affection not listening to a word out of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you say tersely.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, and it comes out practically whined.

“That was talking.”

“But you’re —”

“Belby.”

He is what he is. It shouldn’t surprise you when he appears beside you all fatal rage on a quiet lead, narrowly fixed to you.

Tom’s cold is his median temperature, yes, but in moments like this it’s as much for you as his handmade warmth. He’d pluck the fingers off a boy like Oliver. The digits would string eaves like icicles.

Oliver is looking between you and Tom like something terrible has dawned on him, hands urged to his pockets to soothe the flames your unveiled ties to a man seemingly singed him with.

“Riddle — Mate, I didn’t… I didn’t know she was…”

Tom’s voice is flat, edged with something that makes his monotony sound merciful. “Pity. If only you knew as much as you talked.”

Oliver’s mouth opens and closes and opens again, but wisely he settles on silence instead of excuses, and wastes no time fleeing slowly into the crowd.

The instant he's stolen by the wave Tom's eyes are on yours and they’re molten. You move to say something but his patience was for show — he’s dragging you by the arm out of the common room and into one of the dungeon's empty classrooms without giving you the chance.

“Tom —" You start to protest, mouth twisted in a scowl. “Tom, you're being —"

He shuts the door behind you and locks it with such delicacy your breath catches at the question of how badly he's holding himself back right now.

“I'm being what?"

“You're…" It's hard to formulate an answer when he's like this. “It was a game. Don’t pretend you weren’t playing too."

Tom inches in, chest rising with angry breaths. “A game, was it? Did he know that?"

“Did she?” you hiss.

“It certainly became apparent when she was discarded so that I might retrieve you.”

“It was as apparent to Belby, judging by the way he was left gawking.”

“And with great restraint I let him. A mercy I didn’t take his eyes so he was left without the ability.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now I understand; the problem wasn’t the game, it’s that I played it better than you.”

He looks at you for a long time before casting a silencing charm on the room.

Oh.

Oh — your heart barrels off somewhere. You’re without it for a moment, breathless in the wake of the implication of a spell like that.

“Tom," you say politically, “It was hardly a matter of rescuing.”

He nods imperceptibly. “No, it wasn’t.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

He hums a non-answer.

Each step he takes forward, you take back. It's a peculiar way to have a conversation, but part of the game, you suppose.

Interesting he’s still playing.

You still gasp when you inevitably hit the wall, hands going to the carved edge of a windowsill.

“You’re terrible when you win,” he whispers. His lips brush your ear.

You shudder, mouth dry as you press against his shoulder. “You’re worse when you lose.”

His mouth drags down your jaw but he refuses to kiss you, still withholding something, still holding back in some terrible, electrifying way. Instead one of his hands starts to dip down your side. You shiver as he grazes the skin of your breast, exposed by the cut of your dress, and continues down your waist. His mouth traces your bare shoulder as his tongue makes a slow pass, skin beneath leaping at his careful ministrations.

With long, slender fingers he's pulling your dress off button by button, torturously slow, and you feel mocked to have cleaned it earlier. You feel foolish to have left knowing the night would have ended like this regardless.

“Tom,” you say. His name is followed by staggered breaths. Your fingers are clutching the windowsill.

The air is thick as he watches you, flesh exposed by each undone catch. And still he will not kiss you, even as his lips trail along your collarbone and you start to tug instinctively at his belt. He makes the barest sound of disapproval and spins you to face the window, your hands urged on instinct to press against the glass.

“Tom...”

He hikes your dress up your thighs. It clings to your hips, a meagre two buttons left attached to keep it from falling.

Your wand clatters as his fingers work the clasp of your bra and his teeth skim your shoulder, leaving little bites he laves at softly with his tongue. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction. His touch traverses the shape of you and stops feather-light between your legs.

“Tom —”

“Quiet," he admonishes, a little tut.

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid up your thighs, like he hasn’t done this before, like it’s care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour.

His index draws upon the lace of your underwear and tugs it aside with a tenderness that makes you gasp. Is there a way to press harder to the glass without breaking it? Is there ever enough to grab onto when he gets like this — so singularly focused on ruining you?

One of your hands latches onto the arm half-disappeared in your skirts instead, clinging steadfast to the white of its sleeve, your body swaying as if at sea. He keeps you steady, but this is his crown achievement: that he is all there is that can do it when you’re so singularly focused on being ruined by him.

The sinews of his forearm work imperceptibly under your fingers as he appreciates the newly unfettered flesh, two digits sliding between your legs, and he makes a satisfied sound against your shoulder at the wetness he finds there.

You’re swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realise, and feel like you’re choking when he starts to move, gripping his arm somehow tighter.

As a rule, you know how much he loves this, but it’s tenfold under his jealousy and you think deliriously, probably wrongly, that for how much he enjoys pushing you you enjoy pushing him to get here. You’re his and he’s yours, there’s no doubt in it — but what he can reduce you to — this desperate creature, writhing and panting, trying in vain to satiate herself with a simple finger — this is the translation; the fruition of his fixations put to a person rather than a subject. This is what it is to be his.

Tom’s mouth opens in a smile at your throat, and there it feels more like bared teeth, a smile that is as animal as it is pretty.

And still he whispers with all the affection of a lover, your name peppered between kisses.

His fingers inch inside you and curl. You’re wedged in the perfect balance of his discrepancy; your disciple and your devil. He worships you in white. He ruins you in it too.

Now his name comes out in a babble, wet, half-drooled. A nip pinches the little space beneath your ear and you clutch impossibly harder to his wrist, your free hand squeaking down the window pane as you grind on his palm. He crooks his fingers against a spot that has you seeing stars, thumb pressed to your clit in a subtle motion, and you feel yourself tip off into an unknown he aquaints you with often. In a blurry, flickering moment, the light gleams somewhere beyond the stained hues of the window. And that should be it. The edge is at your heels and you should be falling. But the sinful press of him at your back commands you to lurch against him, and when you moan for more he pulls his fingers free.

You stumble weakly into his chest, startled.

“What… What?”

“Ask me for it,” he says, his voice hoarse, markedly wanton in spite of himself. But there is hunger and there is greed. There’s a sacrificial lamb and there’s a hunted one— there’s religion and there’s Tom. He invents something that demands greater devotion.

And the sound of leather rasping serge and metal clinking metal reels your conscience in. There are no stars. There’s just him. His belt is coming undone.

“Tom.” You swallow. “I told you —”

“And I want you to ask.” He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb tracing your lower lip. “Nicely.”

Your mouth opens for him and you shiver, pressing further back for contact he doesn’t allow. Instead another small tut is whispered at your neck, relinquished to a kiss.

His finger brushes your teeth when you speak. “I want you.”

You feel him shake his head and you all but whine.

“I want you inside, Tom — need you — please.”

“Please?” he echoes mockingly.

“Please,” you say in an uneven voice, and when your tongue grazes his thumb he eases it further into your mouth with an appeased hum.

And so his zipper comes down and you hold your breath with the weight of your dress at your hips.

He pushes inside you with minimal pause, slow still, to relish the way your little pants hitch, stop, and shudder out in a broken moan; the way your breath is guided by his rhythm, how you’re shaped by him, fitted around him. You careen forward and your palms flatten on the window, trembling at the first thrust. Your fingers quiver down the glass.

Tom pulls you into him on the second, patience abandoned. His lips chase your pulse. His grip on your jaw tightens as his thumb pops free with a string of spit. He nudges deeper at a new angle, your body forced as far as it can lean back, gasping heavenward when your head falls helplessly onto his shoulder.

It’s profane. Your ears almost dull to the sound of his hips snapping against yours, the obscenity of your skin on what he offers of his, but you waver between earth and something else, brought back to him by the torturous sight of the edge he stole you from. Always brought back to him.

He’s gripping your jaw in one hand as he pushes deeper, and your fingers are lost for purchase on his forearms, trembling to hold onto something.

When he pulls out of you at your brink again, you practically cry out. But you understand when he spins you around again, hiking you up against the windowsill, your shoulders hitting the cool glass with a gasp you barely register in the fog of your desperation. His eyes are dilated to midnight rings. The weight of his desire is frightening. The insistence to claim you better yet.

He wastes no time before slamming into you again, pausing at the hilt to watch your eyebrows wrench together before resuming his pace. When your mouth falls open, he swallows the noise that tries to come out of it.

It doesn’t feel like a kiss. It feels like the prolusion to a bite.

His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There’s a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear. The vibration of him is everywhere. You’re too hot and it only occurs to you because your fingers are clawing at fabric instead of skin that he’s fully dressed and your last button has finally snapped, lace pooled on the classroom floor as he fucks you. The thought is consigned to oblivion as quickly as it came. It doesn't matter.

You're clutching at his shoulders, the nape of his neck — trying to kiss him back, but you feel torn in two by the intensity of his ministrations, a low, immolating pressure building in your abdomen. He’s proving something with you, and his is a relentless, unending appetite. You don't really stand a chance. You think you've known that from the start.

Tom is all-consuming. Tom is a force of nature, a whirlwind that sweeps over you. He leaves you breathless and somehow needing more as he wraps his hand around the small of your back and seizes you in place.

Still you find yourself wanting to be held tighter.

“T-Tom —" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it. He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. He’s not withholding your release now; he’s spurring you towards it.

When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There’s a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray curls pulled across dark, wicked eyes. The sight of him alone is condemnable, but it isn’t for you.

He likes to watch you like this. When your moans dissolve to the torn syllable of his name, again and again. The veneration. Your choked litanies.

You give them to him.

Sleeves drawn up by your body’s baser instinct for skin, you’ve carved a canvas of praise into his arms, marked up to his elbows where your fingers had jerked upward to rake at his back. This time, when you find the cliffside, nothing stops you from teetering off its edge. Flames dance across your skin in an explosion, your collar damp and bitten, your waist in Tom’s vice-like grip. One hard thrust and you’re falling.

The stars are blinding. You decide then they were made by him.

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, the hard shape of him inside you demanding impossibly for more. You stumble through the light, vision blurred, praying and praying and praying. His grip comes to find your jaw again.

You keen, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddy.

He always comes apart soon after you, but it happens rarely that your body is so taut on the wire of rapture that his twitching inside you takes you with him.

This time it does.

You sink against him, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from his figure and swiping across condensation-foggy glass. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first. It’s slow. It feels like being caught from the last fall. You land in Tom’s arms and they’re holding you through whitened knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, ink-dipped twines of quills, and he steals the shaky sigh from your mouth by pressing it to his.

You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

It’s hard not to fall against the window when he slides out of you. You slump on quivering legs into his chest instead, heaving, spend trickling down your legs.

Tom holds you close, adjusting his trousers before sinking down to settle you on his lap. He wipes the sweat from your face and presses his lips to the feverish skin it plastered. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, whispers of your name down your jaw like a prayer answered. Your eyelids flutter shut and he kisses you there, too. His lashes tickle.

You love him more than you worship him. You think he likes that more.

He grabs your forsaken dress from the floor and slips it over your bare shoulders, summoning the snapped button back in place before he begins to meticulously clasp the rest together again. His mouth leaves a path at the skin under each one before it closes, and you hum in dizzy gratitude.

“That was,” you say in a very worn voice, “a terrible way to reinforce not making you jealous.”

He glares at you from one of the lowermost buttons and you giggle sleepily, curling a hand into his hair. “Don’t look at me like that. You liked it too.”

He leans back up at that, tipping your chin with his fingers, gaze darting over the wrecked state of you with a pleased gleam in his eyes. “You liked it? What a modest interpretation.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

He is what he is — pursuit of buttons forgotten as you’re laid down on the moonlit floor to be reminded just how much you liked it.

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iinsertblognamee · 8 months

Text

chelsea matches and jerks

summary ― you go to support your girlfriend at the FA Women's cup. some guy sitting next to you doesn't get the hint to back off. Sam takes things into her own hands.

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― fluff

based off this request

You could feel the excitement of the crowd surrounding you, a smile on your face as you rubbed your hands together to create some sort of warmth. It wasn’t every day that you got front-row seats at the FA Women’s Cup wearing your girlfriend’s number proudly.

As much as you were enjoying the buzz from the fans, you felt nerves for Sam. You knew how much these games meant to her and you could only hope for a good outcome. You looked around the stadium, blue swarming - music playing as you mumbled the words along.

It was about twenty minutes before the game was set to start when two guys sat down in the two vacant seats next to you, wearing the chelsea blue that matched yours. Sending a friendly smile to both of them, before turing your attention up to the big screen.

You smiled to yourself as you overheard them talking about Sam, pride swelling up in your heart. You didn’t think much of the gaze the man sitting directly next to you kept sending your way, shifting your body so you were looking opposite his direction. That should fix it.

The crowd starts to cheer as you watch both teams make their way onto the pitch - you of course joining in as your spot Sam. Your heart starting to beat just that little bit faster as your brain finally comprehends what was about to happen.

The whistle goes off before you know it, the crowd getting behind the players, as you clap to support them.

22 seconds in and you feel your heart drop as Leah Galton swings the ball into the net, crowds of red cheering, as you sit there is disbelief. It doesn’t take long for the goal to been rebutted and Chelsea back in the game.

The first half goes without a score being added for either side, your nerves getting the best of you, as you wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans. The half time gives you some time to get up and stretch your legs, looking around the stadium once again.

“I’m sorry, I think you dropped this” turning your attention to the man sitting next to you, your chelsea scarf in his hands, a smile on his face.

“Oh my gosh! Yes, thank you” you gush out, grabbing the scarf out of his hands placing it around your neck almost instantly, grabbing a seat again - the cold still managing to come through.

“Good game so far” You give yourself a few seconds, before realising that he was talking to you, his friend now off someplace else.

“Uh no, really good game” you answer, more to be polite than anything. You left your answer vague, hoping to end the conversation at that.

“You been to many games before?” he asks, his body somehow had gotten closer in the past few moments. You nod your head, assuming that this would end the conversation once and for all. The whistle for the second half going off.

“You always been a chelsea fan?”

God, he doesn’t stop does he. You pretend you don’t hear as the crowd cheers the teams on. You don’t know if he knows your purposely knows you were ignoring him or not but he doesn’t make another attempt to start the conversation up again.

Edge of your seat, you watch as the ball goes from one end of the field to the other, bouncing off a manchester player and straight for Sam. You jump up as you cheer, the crowd joining in. She passes the ball over, you wait for the ball to go straight into goal but watch as the goalkeeper catches it.

Grabbing a seat once more, clapping your hands as you watch the game continue.

“Great player Sam is”

You give him a quick ‘uh, yeah’ as you try to track the ball once more.

“She your favourite player?”

Was this guy serious? As much as you wanted to tell him to shut up, you liked talking about your girlfriend even more.

“Of course! I hope she’s yours too”

Your response seems to bring a smirk on his face, his friend nudging him almost as a ‘congrulations’.

“I don’t think i’d be a very bright man if she wasn’t”

You bite your tongue, ‘You? A bright man?’ ready to spill but you manage to hold it in. He can’t be that bright if he hadn’t figured out you weren’t interested.

The game continues on, your nerves setting in as they get closer and closer to the end of the game - still no goals scored.

You watch the throw-in, excitement of the crowd growing. You spot Sam at the other end of the goal - a good spot to be in. The ball crosses over to her - already up in the air cheering as she scores. The excitment of the goal takes the weight off your shoulders, the man next to you grabbing onto your shoulders - and in that moment you couldn’t care less because your girlfriend just scored a goal.

The crowd eats up her celebratory flip, shaking your head as you laugh out a choked laugh, Sam making her way in front of where you were seated, shaking her head. You make eye contact for a split second before you were rudely torn away by the man next to you throwing his arms up in the air, practically screaming in your face before turning around to his friend.

The game continues, Manchester almost scoring a goal but ultimately when that final siren, Chelsea has won the cup. The cheering in the stadium brings a small on your face, you cheering along with them. So proud of the girls performances today, especially Sam’s.

You start to collect your stuff, bending down to pick up your waterbottle and rubbish - you hear the two guys conversing about something but don’t put too much effort in eavesdropping. Your only mission to get to your girlfriend.

You realise as you stand up to make your way towards the gate, you need to move pass the two men, a small sigh leaving your lips. You go to excuse yourself but he cuts in before you can even open your mouth.

“I was wondering if maybe you would want to come down to the pub with us? Go celebrate the win and all that”

“Oh” great. How were you gonna get yourself out of this one. “I actually have plans after this, but thank you for the offer”

Perfect, an easy let down that you both can pretend means more than it actually is.

“Well, how about we give each other our numbers and we can catch up another time?”

Was he serious?

The crowd surrounding and inside the area you were seated started to get louder, people standing up - making it harder for you to push your way past the two men and towards the gate. Trying to think of a way to let him down on last time, you hear the calls of your girlfriend’s name and apparently he does too. His head shooting towards the field, where Sam was making her way towards the gate. Fans sticking out posters and jerseys for her to sign.

You find it funny how quick both he and his friend abandoned you to make their way flush against the gate - asking for pictures. Sam doesn’t pay them any attention, her gaze falling upon you in an instant.

You slowly make your way down the few stairs towards the gate - taking your time, a smirk on your face as you catch the annoyance growing on your girlfriend's face. You end up standing next to the man again, although he doesn’t even bother with giving you another glance.

“Hi!” You call out over the crowd, Sam now jumping up so her face with on par with yours - the crowd getting more excited at the aspect of their favourite player being so close. You swear you here the two men next to you let out squeals.

She doesn’t bother responding as she pulls you in for a kiss, her hand landing behind your neck as she deepens it. It almost made you laugh - you had been kissed by Sam many times after games. To the point where you could tell the difference between a normal kiss and a ‘winning’ kiss.

This was neither.

She pulls back for a second, titling her head before moving out of your personal space. Her attention going straight to the two men next to you.

“Did you say you guys wanted a picture?” She asks, although she has a smile on her face, you can see the annoyance in her eyes. Neither of them saying a word. It takes them a few moments to bring themselves back, his friend handing over his phone as they take a selfie with your girlfriend.

“Cheers guys! Have a great day and stop hitting on people’s girlfriend” She doesn’t wait for a response as she moves over to the fans on your other side, signing and taking as many photos as she possibly could.

With a smile on your face, you go to make your way up the steps to give room to some other fans, although as you turn you come face to face with the two men. You held in your laugh as you saw the looks on their faces.

“I completely forgot to mention! Sam Kerr is my girlfriend. Have a lovely day boys” and with that you were up the stairs.

+ plus something extra

The car ride home from the celebrations were surprisingly quiet. You driving, as Sam sat in the passengers seat - her hand resting on your thigh. The soft sounds of one of the playlists you and Sam had made playing in the background.

As you turned the concer of your street, you could feel Sam watching you. Turning your head slightly to see her lip inbetween her teeth.

“What’s going through that mind of yours?” you asked, squeezing her hand that hand gripped onto your leg just that little bit tighter at your question.

“Just thinking about the celebration kiss you gave me” you let out a laugh as you shook your head. “I didn’t give you shit, you’re the one that practically snogged my face in front of your fans”

“They weren’t all my fans” she mumbles, although you catch it anyway.

“What was that honey?” this time she’s the one shaking her head, claiming she said nothing. Wanting to stir the pot just that little bit extra, you let out a fake ‘oh no!’ bringing your hand that was rested on top of hers to your forehead.

“What? What is it?” she jumps up immediately, looking around as if that would help her figure out what was wrong.

“I forgot to get the number off that guy at the game today! He invited me down to the pub to watch the next chelsea game”

“I- What?”

“No, I know. I said the exact same thing - the next chelsea game isn’t til September but I guess he really enjoyed my company”

“Y/N. There’s no way in hell you’re going to a Pub to watch my game. You’ll be in the stands, cheering me on from where I can hear and see you”

You had made it to your driveway, the car parked as you unclipped your belt and turned your body to face Sam.

“I mean, with everyone else in the stadium I doubt you can hear and see me? Like really Sam, there’s a lot of people. Plus a pub I could get some good food as I watch”

“If that’s the problem, I’ll get our caterings to cook you up something for the game, nice and hot for you”

This girl was something else. “Sam! You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will if that’s what it’ll take for you to come to my game rather than watch it in some stupid pub with those jerks”

You can’t hold it anymore, as you let out a laugh. Sam’s face strunching up in confusion only makes you laugh harder. You bring her face closer to yours as you peck her lips.

“I don’t think your fans would appreciate you calling them jerks lovie”

She lets out a scoff, as she rolls her eyes. “Anyone who hits on my girlfriend is a jerk - fan or not”

“Do I sense some jealousy Miss Samantha Kerr?”

She goes to deny it, as you raise your eyebrows. Practically saying ‘I dare you to try and come up with an excuse’.

“I just don’t appreciate jerks hitting on my girlfriend at my game as she wears my last name on her back”.

Deciding you had tortured her enough, you bring your lips to hers once again.

“I know baby, but no matter who tries to hit on me, it doesn’t change the fact that I come home with you after every game”

“Hm, I like the sounds of that”

So do I, you thought to yourself as you went in for more kisses.

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #request

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weebsinstash · 5 months

Note

hey, can I have more husband and wife family dynamics with thragg? maybe more about her pregnancy or the kids' childhood/baby time?

Sure can! It's been pretty fun writing about potential scenarios where this monstrous piece of shit can actually feel love. First and foremost I was watching a video on YouTube going over this scene again and uh Comic Readers KNOW How Fucked This Man Is. um, out of context vague spoilers but, I'm assuming people asking about Thragg have read the comics or are curious about the comics but like yall Need To Know how he treats the kids of his enemies

I feel like I need to share/remind people of this scene because like, this man can be kind of hard to pin down. He's from this loveless society that sees kindness as weakness and he's like King Dickhead but there are still times when he can be quite courteous, even apologetic, sarcastic, whatever. I think at the end of the day he's just a very selfish, explosive, emotionally impulsive man but revisiting this scene was a little surprising for me since I forgot he was even like, capable of "small kindnesses" like saying sorry or whatever. Like. Is him wiping her tears while smearing blood all over her face a well intentioned accident or is he like waging psychological warfare on this like, i think she's literally 5 years old. What is the purpose of him apologizing to a child for splashing blood of her family member on her when he intends to kill her or leave her for dead in front of her dying parents anyways. I'm still trying to get a feel on this man

THAT BEING SAID, moving on, we're talking about a yandere Thragg today and thankfully that comes with perks

- it's pretty obvious but like, you are his favorite mate and your children are his favorite children. I like to think of concepts with Reader being Ursaal and Onaan's mother or even the previously mentioned triplet idea with Mark being their sibling (otherwise I'd have to invent new characters and that doesn't, resonate the same, and I also really like Ursaal actually and I feel like there's some real story potential in Ursaal discovering more of her humanity through her mother's kindness and wanting to protect her mother from her father)

-can you imagine like. I still think about the idea where you're actually Nolan's mate but one day you mouth off to Thragg and he "puts you in your place" in front of Nolan as a punishment to you both and like a month later you find out you're pregnant and, I imagine abortions are only done on Viltrum if the fetus is too weak or defective, so you're forced to carry it and you and Nolan are lying that it's his and then one day Thragg just, passes by, sees your swelling tummy, takes one sniff of you, "it's mine" and demands a paternity test. And you'd think, "oh surely he'd just take the baby" which is what you'd prefer but, no it becomes a pretext for him to steal you from Nolan altogether

-you're fed incredibly nutrient dense, protein packed, ultimate pregnancy food because Thragg wants those babies as healthy as possible. Thragg has probably had other alien kids before but these are his first hybrid or nearly fully Viltrumite children and that makes them special. New dad Thragg holding up these little absolute mammoths of newborns with all their chunk and pudge and rolls and he's just so proud, "look at how robust these children are! Surely they have inherited my strength! Fine additions to the Viltrum Empire were born on this day" and you're like half awake in bed and he just, pets your hair

-ok just. Ok just picture it like. You're pregnant and upset and so stressed out because you didn't want to be Nolan's mate after he helped conquer Earth but at least you had known him and liked him initially. You're just constantly stressed out and angry and watching every single word you say around Thragg because you don't know him or what he's capable of, but I imagine a sort of scenario where he's taking you to the doctor and running tests and procedures and just, you know prenatal checkup stuff, but the doctors are all speaking to Thragg instead of you, you aren't even being told your own test results, and the two of you finally arrive back home and you just break down crying and kind of tear into him, "I'm sure YOU have had lots of kids before but I'VE never had a baby before and I don't know what to expect or what's going to happen or- or -" and you're just bawling because, it's not a lie you're scared. You're having a baby and you're gonna be a new mom and it's entirely against your will, out of your control, and that's incredibly stressful. And this becomes a moment where Thragg actually shows some humanity by sitting you down and discussing the doctors visit with you, and that's one of the first times the two of you actually have a civil, extended conversation

Thragg thinking he's so fucking big and tough and then he sees you this little fragile fleshy untrained civillian with the big teary boo hoo eyes with your shaking hands on your little belly as you cry about being scared about giving birth to his baby and he's just, "shit I DO have feelings" and immediately feels the overwhelming need to comfort you. He'll comfort you under the guise of "stress isn't good for the children" which is true but, it's him blanketing his own concern and masking it under an excuse

-I kind of feel like that hypothetical event would be like, a footnote in your relationship. He starts treating you differently, attentive in new ways, more... emotional ways. He'll stop by while he's working on a break or something to check on with you and the assigned caretakers he has guarding you (because the very second you're confirmed pregnant you have 24/7 security) and he'll awkwardly grunt out questions about, have you eaten yet, are you experiencing any pain today, any discomfort, any new symptoms. He'll check in with your guards/nannies privately about if there's anything you're doing that he needs to know about, give tou a nice husbandly shoulder touch and then (reluctantly) getting back to work

-to be blunt part of me questions if he even has sex to create children or if he uses something akin to IVF and I only say this because of the absolute ASSEMBLY LINE he sets up on Thraxia. Trust me though he beats the kitty up with you CONSTANTLY

-I actually think after giving birth is like the ONE time you're allowed any birth control because apparently if you have too many pregnancies in too close time frames it actually sucks the calcium out of your bones and can give you osteoarthritis and Thragg wants you healthy, "for more future children obviously" which is such a lie because let's say you have your miracle birth of giving him twins or triplets or whatever but you hemmorage and become infertile or whatever. Mf is STILL keeping you around. When you think about it he technically doesn't even need you to help raise his children, he has people for that, but he forces you to be part of the process anyways

- tbh I kind of like the idea of Thragg developing some weird fucking like complex where he discovers he feels comforted cuddling you, like man gets hit by oxytocin like a fucking freight train, and it becomes him literally being unable to sleep without you in his arms. You could be in a yelling screaming argument with this man and he suddenly like, just completely shuts you down, "ENOUGH!! I require rest and I won't tolerate anymore of your childish whining!" And you could be spitting mad at him and he's just, picking you up just physically picks you up and drags you to bed anyways. Hooks his arms around your waist as the big spoon and buries his face in your hair even as you spit insults about how you hope he kills himself

Like I think I've mentioned this idea with other characters before but imagine Thragg waking up on the middle of the night IMMEDIATELY PISSED because the bed beside him is cold and he finds you on the couch, on the couch, maybe even without blankets and visibly uncomfortable, because yeah he WILL wake you up to drag you back to bed with him.

- Thragg being this warrior who literally watched people be disembowled and tortured and conquered races but suddenly you're in labor and he's in the delivery room (he refuses to wait outside) watching you literally scream in pain and he just, takes your hand and tells you to squeeze, and that it'll be alright, and he sees you so vulnerable and scared and emotional and you're looking to him for some kind of help but he can't, even with all his strengths and feats he can't help you right now, however this pregnancy goes is up to fate and the doctors and he feels like an actual visceral HUMBLING sense of helplessness that just makes him, even more obsessively protective over you

- deadass if it becomes a "he can only save one: you or the children" life-threatening pregnancy scenario, he chooses you. Says you can always try again but even if you wind up infertile and "useless" to him, he's too attached to you at this point, it doesn't matter if you "don't serve a function" or whatever bullshit Viltrumite mindset he may have had with previous mates before. You're different to him, and you're making HIM different as a person

- You're just half alive on the couch because Giving Birth is Hard and here's Thragg doing shit like personally bringing you water, feeling your forehead for any fever, monitoring your condition, aggressively interrogating your guards for extra info, sitting beside you with your babies in his arms. He lets you rest after giving birth and nearly bends over backwards

- I feel like at some point you're forced to accept a lot of real fucked up stuff and especially if you are a hybrid Vultrimite yourself and thus will be with Thragg for, basically forever, like some real "mate, do you have any cravings today. What do the children require" "ummm... at the ceremony last month, there was that... blue, little.... crab thing?" "A Florkian. They are incredibly rare" "oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know-" " -and since I observed that you were fond of the taste when you were consuming them, I went ahead and conquered their homeworld and farms have been established. I can have the slaves prepare a dish for you right away" "oh, thank you, ive been craving it ever since i ate it but i didnt want to bother by asking 🥰" "as your mate it is my duty to provide for you. Do not keep any of your desires from me"

- your children are getting trained as soldiers the second they develop powers and that's something you'll have to get used to. If your little babies get their powers at 5, they're still learning combat, getting knocked around, near beaten, "toughened up". Thragg will conceal the full extent of how they're treated from you because the way he sees it, you weren't raised on Viltrum and you're simply ignorant of their culture. He doesn't need you to accept how things are. Your kids will come home with black eyes and bruises and bloodied noses and he'll growl at you not to make them too soft as you weep over Ursaal missing a chunk of her hair because an opponent grabbed her by it and she had to break away and some was ripped out at her scalp, like. The psychological damage of asking your small child how their day with their father went, "it was excellent mother, I made my first kill!!" And then gleefully describing to you in detail how while their father was fighting an enemy soldier, the soldiers child attacked yours, and, your baby killed another kid. Like. That's the sort of thing you have to be raised with to block out of your heart. Going to hug your child who may not even be 10 years old and they have literal blood on their hands

-personal headcanon but also semi canon but I imagine Ursaal is the most competent of your twins and is Thragg's favorite. She just has a better tactical mind on her shoulders and isn't, uh. As horribly sadistically violent as Onaan. Like say your kids become platonic yandere or whatever, or, you have your own kids with thragg and the twins are separate but still attached to you. Onaan is the kid you find killing cats because he's jealous they get more attention than him while Ursaal is like, giving her father incredibly detailed reports and her own insight into what you've been up to, how you're feelings, things you say and do when Thragg isn't around

-so I know y'all see that image I posted with Thragg and his twins. I tried to censor, The Cape last time but I realized like, even with censoring the head it's still super obvious who that is, there's only one white furred creature in this entire show. I imagine after Thragg gets his Beast Drip that, once Throkk's daughter comes for revenge, she is also slaughtered, and her pelt becomes YOUR cape. Or maybe Thragg offhandedly mentions to you that BB Jr has vowed vengeance and you're casually flipping through a book, "is she as strong as her father, like if you had to rate it 1 to 10 with her father being 10 and 1 being a human. If the daughter is at about a 7 or below, Ursaal should be able to handle her, get herself a nice coat to match her father" and Thragg feels this warmth in his chest to hear you're actually observant of his/your children and their prowess, especially to hear you praise Ursaal in such a uh violent context, just casually suggesting his daughter could turn another sentient humanoid creature into a pelt to wear. This is another example of "living the viltrum life will eventually dehumanize you and rob you of certain empathies"

- I don't think you would actually have a title but could you imagine if Thragg decides you're like, officially his true mate, like the mate above all others, like you're the Empress in his little harem of concubines and ladies in waiting. I hc that your official title is something like Grand Duchess or perhaps if this is the twin/triplet scenario something more vaguely historical sounding like The High Mother or Regent Mother or, you get the point

-I still think "Reader turns out to be an incredibly late blooming hybrid" is a neat concept but I also don't know how they would miss that since during your pregnancy and all you're receiving medical care out the ass but like. Thragg personally training both you and the children as a family. Would be kind of humiliating honestly because it's kind of vaguely implied you should learn things before the kids do and if you struggle, here's Thragg, telling his kids in private they have to protect you and keep an eye on you and report any problems back to him

- thragg would definitely be training you in hand to hand but suddenly finds he can't bear hitting you in the face or hitting you at a certain strength. Like. Absolutely 100% you're gonna have a lot of scenarios where you're brawling or wrestling and he pins you and it swiftly transitions to you getting rawdogged from your high on adrenaline husband. Tbh that sex would probably be his favorite, where he has to defeat you in combat and then rewards himself. Can probably border from hatesex to consensual to noncon, not that he has a problem doing THAT to you either

- probably has portraits done of you and him. Idk do you think Viltrum has like enough art culture for portraits to be a thing? Most fascist tyrants have portraits. He would have several done: you and him, just you, you while pregnant, him and you while pregnant, you holding your babies, you and him holding your babies, and family shots as they grow up. Say you conquer a planet together as a family and one day you're revisiting and there's some sort of museum set up amd you find like a wall length portrait of, you and your children soaked in blood tearing carnage through the fire and flames and Thragg is beside you just nodding in approval, "they captured your image rather well"

- goooooddddd imagine you're just a normal human and you progressively start showing signs of aging. You start getting more wrinkles. Your body starts working in different ways, popping, cracking, aching. Onaan, Ursaal, and Thragg all notice and they're like FREAKING OUT HONESTLY. The children don't want to accept that their mother is actually going to be a speck on the timeline of their entire lifespans. Thragg doesn't want to accept that he has to let you go and you're never coming back. They all become obsessed with finding ways to keep you young, keep you alive, fuck it they'll clone you and transfer your consciousness into a new body if they have to! This is comic book world and these are obsessed aliens and they have OPTIONS

- something something "what if Reader isn't a viltrumite hybrid but is still like super-powered or a mutant or whatever and this isn't revealed until you like are fatally injured or even DIE die and suddenly you, pop back up". Cause I feel like this "close call" would drive any yandere literally insane because, what if there's no second chance, what just happened, can you still die, they can never never never never never allow you to get hurt ever ever ever again

Thragg just walks into the kitchen and you have the stove top red hot and you've just got your palm resting on it and you look to him kind of just shocked, all, "look... nothing happens... I just feel some of the warmth" and Thragg just puts his fist through your oven anyways, "you could've gotten hurt" and immediately picking you up and carrying you to some sort of perceived "safer place"

- this is like a specific scenario but like, can you imagine as a mom you like to brush and comb Ursaal's hair and you idly suggest she could always grow it out more and you could help braid it and things, but once it starts getting longer Thragg objects and says it could get grabbed during a fight and orders her to cut it but you step in and say she shouldnt have to, it's HER hair, and you two get into it, and one day Ursaal is brought home by her father and he's all but shaved her head after she had actually grown it out to a decent length. You and Thragg are at odds over how to treat rhe children and Ursaal begins to realize that many of the restrictions her father instills on her are because of a way of life she may not fully agree with, a life filled with violence and bloodshed with no room for love or kindness or creativity. She probably helps you from going over the edge too, honestly. If anything else through this life with Thragg, in your darkest places you may still find yourself thinking you have to keep going to try and help your children

- with others, Thragg is the kind of yandere where he's standing in the same room as you and you're both doing completely different things and he suddenly says, "so I noticed during the meeting that your eyes kept lingering on my mate" and without further warning he's beating up someone on the accusation they were lusting for his wife, no discussion, just fists , and he'll do shit like this a lot to the point people don't feel comfortable being around you and you're just further socially isolated

- I feel like Thragg would have some weird like fondness slash fetish for watching you breastfeed. Like, awww here's his cute little wife with his chubby little babies and you're giving them their nice milk, what a good mom, providing for the babies he put in your belly ❤️ part of me is convinced if you're a viltrumite or hybrid or whatever that you uh. Eventually wind up with a lot of babies. A LOT of babies. Do you think he would want a specific amount or its just vibes. Like you're over 300 years old and you've already got 50 kids with him but he sees you teaching one of your youngest sons how to throw a punch and suddenly he wants another

- all I'm saying is if he ever catches you self harming or attempting to hurt yourself he's gonna have a real extreme reaction. Like he finds you cutting yourself with a broken glass and you're immediately restrained and taken to a hospital, completely stripped, inspected for other wounds, and if there are any and especially a lengthy history of them, you're in such trouble. But I also think it would be extremely difficult to hide this from him since as time goes on you two are constantly having sex or he's inviting himself into your shower to bathe with you. You accidentally bang your arm on a counter or something and get a tiny bruise, this man will know about it and wants a detailed report on where it came from

- even when you guys aren't super familiar with each other and you've "just met" he's already protective and all that. Like you've just been brought into his home and you barely even know him still and he may even act mean and angry to you and then one day he sees you have a large bruise on your arm, "what is this?" ".... it's nothing, Grand Regent" "I asked you a question and you'll answer me: where did this come from" "... I spoke out of turn with one of your advisors and turned to leave without permission, Grand Regent" "And so they grabbed you?" "Yes Grand Regent" "who" "it was my fault, I-" "WHO" and the second you give a name or description he's wordlessly leaving the room and shows up again HOURS later with visible blood on him, "it has been handled. You are not to be harmed or punished without my permission or instruction"

- in some scenario where you leave the kids behind and try to run away, like... he isn't just gonna throw up his hands, "well I already got children out of her, she has served her purpose" and leave you the fuck alone. If anything this man would track you down just to tell you off for having the fucking nerve to disobey and defy him! I can picture an actively captured wife where you are constantly kept on some kind of restraint or have a bracelet or collar or even a LEAD THAT HE HOLDS and you're IMPRISONED rather than "I'm being monitored but otherwise I have my own agency". Thragg will make himself a throne that you can be chained to if he has to. He'll have restraints made that are decorative and complimentary of your features. Imagine he's making some sort of public appearance and while he's speaking he's got an arm around your waist and you're pulled up against him and meanwhile you've got. A bar gag and cannot speak

- really, truly, in a way, you become a symbol, but one of all different kinds. There are Viltrumites who see how their mighty Grand Regent treats his mate and they are viscerally disgusted (Kregg and Lucan comes to mind), like people who really start to question the society they are living in, questioning if it really must be so selfish and devoid of empathy, questioning if they really want to keep living this way and for their children and their children's children to live like this. Then there are others who see the way the Grand Regent controls his mate and see its as a sign of strength and permission to treat their own mates the same.

Mostly, though... the only thing that will take you away from Thragg is death. Until the day one of you dies, you're stuck with him, and there's basically no one around who's stronger than he is, period. You might as well cozy up and get friendly with your new husband, since you're going to be together for a long time and spend lots, and lots, and LOTS of time together ❤️

#yandere Invincible #yandere x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts #ngl reader x battle beast kinda hits different. imagine bb winning and youre like THANK FUCK can i fuck you as thanks??? and hes like. sure

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shaunamilfman · 17 days

Text

i'm just gonna call you mine

summary: Jackie answers Shauna's phone call while you're fooling around, and well, you didn't feel like stopping. A/N: Jackieshauna x reader smut if it's not obvious. based on this post by @t4tnat

You curse softly under your breath as Jackie reaches for her phone. Her face lights up as she flips it over, quickly swiping to accept the call. “Hey, Shauna,” She says excitedly, grinning at whatever Shauna says in reply.

“Are you serious right now?” You whisper. Jackie quietly shushes you as she presses the phone closer to her ear, nodding enthusiastically as she talks to Shauna. You catch something vaguely about Mari's boyfriend, but you find that you don't really care all that much. Better women than you have been distracted by far less than their half-naked girlfriend sitting in their lap.

You slump back defeatedly against the couch, your gaze shifting downward as Jackie shifts in your lap. Your eyes land on her bra, laying uselessly against the couch next to you. Inevitably you look back at her breasts, still glistening with your spit. The beginnings of a hickey marked where you'd buried your face between them. You watch with no shortage of disbelief as Jackie giggles with Shauna with her dress still hiked up to her waist, seemingly oblivious to the visible damp patch on her panties.

Whatever. She could talk to Shauna if she wanted to, but this was your time. You couldn’t prove it, but you knew Shauna did this shit on purpose. You squeeze your hand still resting on her thigh, digging in your thumb as Jackie gasps. She quickly attempts to play it off as a surprise to a suspicious-sounding Shauna. She gives you a weak glare but doesn't seem to actually be upset about it.

You lightly grab the back of Jackie's neck as you pull her towards you, immediately intent on giving Jackie another hickey. You feel oddly relaxed at the soothing sounds of Shauna's voice coming over the phone, providing a stark contrast to Jackie's shaky replies. You wonder what Shauna's making of Jackie's breath hitching as she unconsciously grinds down on your lap.

“What are you doing?” Shauna asks, a hint of suspicion coloring her voice. “You sound… weird.”

“Nothing,” Jackie insists, the word coming out much whinier than she probably intended. “Just tell me about your day, Shipman. I missed you today.”

Shauna's silent on the other end of the phone, the soft sounds of her breathing the only sign that she's still on the line. You take Shauna's indecision for what it is, a gift, and palm Jackie through her panties. She gasps, biting at her lip halfway through in an effort to muffle it.

“Please,” Jackie says, words laced with desperation. “Tell me,” She adds after a moment, for a confused Shauna's benefit. Her face flushes in embarrassment but she still looks at you pleadingly.

She melts into you, head resting on your shoulder as she silently spreads her legs looking like it was all she could do not to start begging. You keep your hand still, just a teasing pressure until Shauna resumes talking about her day. Jackie catches on unusually quick as you start and stop touching her with every lull in the conversation, leaving her torn between paying attention to the conversation to keep it going or relaxing into your caresses.

Jackie squirms in your lap, trying unsuccessfully to hide her moans. Still, she can't help but whine when you pull your hand away. You breathe out a laugh as you gently push at her shoulders, standing her up on shaky legs as you get the rest of her clothes off her.

“Who's that?”

“What?” Jackie asks with a nervous chuckle as she impatiently settles back in your lap.

“Is… Is someone there, Jax?”

“Oh. It's just uh– just Y/N. Say hi.”

“Hey, Shauna,” You say amusedly.

“Has she been here the entire time?” Shauna asks slowly.

“Yeah, we're just hang–” She gasps as you pull her thighs apart, her fingernails digging into your arm as she continues, “hanging out.” You hesitate, giving Jackie a warning look that she completely ignores as she whines for you to continue. You shrug. If she wants to embarrass herself in front of her best friend, that's her business.

It’s your turn to stifle a groan as you slide your hand between her legs, finding her already soaked and wanting. You could feel how wet she was through her panties, sure. But this was something entirely different. Jackie tenses at the touch, stuttering over her sentence before arching into feeling, always seeking more– harder, faster. Anything that didn’t involve putting actual work in.

Each movement of your hand, every circle of your fingers, was calculated. Carefully avoiding anything truly sensitive as you revel in her stuttering attempts at conversation, a hand gripped tight on her thigh as she tries to force your fingers inside her. Jackie’s nearly tearing up in frustration as you keep teasing just at the edge of slipping inside of her. You can tell from the look on her face that in any other situation, she’d have her back turned to you, huffing and sighing dramatically till you gave her the attention she so clearly wanted, but you’re too far into enjoying one of the rare times you get to just play with her.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you realize that the conversation has gotten rather brusque and choppy on both ends. She definitely knew. You're a little surprised about how much the idea excites you, but as you take a moment to gather your thoughts you realize that it shouldn't be all that surprising. Knowing that Shauna Shipman, the perpetual pain in your ass that constantly fought for your girlfriend's attention, was enjoying listening to you feel Jackie up gave you a perverse thrill.

Well, if Shauna wanted something to listen to…

“Fuck,” Jackie moans, drawing out the word into something unmistakable as you finally brush your fingertips against her clit. Shauna lets out a harsh gasp at the sound, silent as she listens with bated breath to every sigh that escapes Jackie’s mouth as you tease her.

“Something’s come up, I’ve got to go,” Jackie rushes out, quickly tiring of this game and wanting to really get into it.

“No!” Shauna snaps, pausing a moment before pleading. “No, I’m sorry. Please. Please don’t hang up.”

Jackie looks torn between the two of you: the desire to give into the increasingly firm touch between her legs that she’s been begging for all night, and the desire to give into anything that Shauna wanted from her. “Put her on speakerphone, Jackie,” You offer with a roll of your eyes, making the decision for her.

Jackie's eyes widen dramatically as she glances back and forth between your face and the hand between her legs. “She obviously knows, Jackie. Tell her Shauna.”

Shauna’s voice comes out loud and clear over the phone, a quiet rustling sound indicating movement as she shamefully admits “Yes.”

Jackie moans, trying to hide the reaction as you purposely begin to rub firm circles over her clit. “The whole time?” Jackie complains, almost seeming offended. You’d be nervous if you didn’t know how obviously upset she was about her lack of subtlety than anything else. You’re sure she thought she was being so sneaky as she whined and whimpered over the line. God, you love this girl.

Shauna makes a noncommittal noise through the phone, clearly coming to the same realization. “You sound really hot,” She offers, trying to diffuse the situation. Credit where credit is due, you suppose, as Jackie visibly relaxes. Jackie thinks it over for a minute before obviously coming to the same conclusion: Yeah, she did sound hot.

You could tell by the sound of Shauna’s breathing, rough and needy, that she was fantasizing about fucking your girlfriend. “Are you touching yourself, Shauna?” You ask. Her rough breath and silence on the other end of the line told you all that you needed to know.

“How?”

“... How am I touching myself?” Shauna asks slowly, hesitating after your confirmation before committing fully.

“I'm laying on my back, I've got my… fingers inside of me.”

“How many?” You ask.

“Just the two.”

“Yeah? Does that sound nice, Jackie? Do you want two of my fingers?” Jackie nods immediately, an excited look crossing her face before she sheepishly glances at the phone and shakes her head.

“I do but… Shauna can hear,” She whispers, face flushing with embarrassment as she looks imploringly at you. You shrug as you reach for the phone to hang it up, not entirely committed to the idea anyway.

“I’ll call you back later, Shauna,” She murmurs, relieved.

Shauna shushes her over the phone and Jackie immediately quiets, looking surprised at the action. “Stop playing shy, Jax. You know you want to show off.”

“You think I want that kind of attention?” Jackie asks, almost offended. She pouts, almost on the verge of crossing her arms and walking away in a huff. “I'm not– not that kind of girl.” She's a little interested despite herself, slowly relaxing back against you as she seems to consider the idea.

You groan internally. If Shauna fucks this up for you…

“I think you want my attention,” Shauna continues. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? My full attention as I listen to you whine and moan as you get fucked?”

Jackie sighs dreamily and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“You… You’ve been touching yourself? This whole time?” Jackie asks lowly, verging on a whisper.

“You sound so good,” Shauna says. “I thought you were by yourself too, but I should’ve known it was Y/N.” You laugh softly against Jackie's neck, listening closely to the quiet sounds Shauna’s trying to stifle on her end.

“She’s so wet, Shauna,” You say, rubbing Jackie gently before sliding your hand down. You slide a finger inside her, earning yourself a sharp gasp– a sound that's picked up clearly by the phone as Shauna sighs into the receiver. “Bet you’d love to be the one touching her, wouldn’t you?” The question hangs in the air for a long moment, the tension skyrocketing as an uncaring Jackie grinds against your palm.

Shauna groans out in agreement, voice thick with desire and just enough desperation that it makes you squirm. “Yeah? Are you thinking about the way she’d feel around your fingers?” You continue, adding another finger to the mix much to Jackie’s benefit.

Jackie cries out a little louder than normal, clearly putting on a show for Shauna’s benefit. You give her a knowing look as she catches your eye, but she doesn’t falter for a second as she half-heartedly rocks against the rhythm of your fingers.

“God, yes,” Shauna finally admits softly, a surprising touch of actual emotion slipping through. “Wish I was touching her. Wish you were touching me. It’s killing me knowing that…”

“I want your fingers inside me,” Jackie interrupts, more than used to skating over Shauna's more morose moments. You curl your fingers in thanks, wrapping one arm around her to hold her still as she arches off your lap with a shuddering moan.

“Hear that, Shauna? She gets so turned on when we share her,” You comment. There's a brief flash of embarrassment on Jackie's face, but she gets over it just as quickly.

There's a faint sound of buzzing as Shauna says “Maybe we should pass her around sometime. Would you like that, Jax?”

Jackie whimpers at the mere thought of it, nodding furiously in agreement. Shauna cries out suddenly, a long needy sound unlike anything that's previously left her mouth. You listen closely to the faint sounds of Shauna's bed creaking in response to the movements of her hips, each creak accompanied by a desperate noise as Shauna chases her high. Jackie’s whining in your ear and nearly clawing at your shoulder as she pleads with you to speed up, clearly affected by each and every gasp leaving Shauna.

“Fuck,” Shauna groans.

“Shauna,” Jackie whines, fumbling for the phone she's got loosely gripped in her hand.

“I grabbed my vibrator,” Shauna admits with a gasp. ”My fingers weren't enough.”

“The– the blue one?” Jackie asks. Your eyes narrow slightly, but you'll come back to that after.

Jackie gives you a pleading look so pathetic that it takes everything in you to not immediately give in to what she wants. "Tell her what you want, baby," You prompt Jackie.

Jackie acquiesces with a petulant groan, gripping the phone tighter as she mumbles “I want another one.”

“I thought you wanted it faster?” You ask.

“I want both,” Jackie complains impatiently.

“Another what? Another finger?” Shauna asks, punctuated by an irritated click of her tongue as Jackie quickly agrees.

“Fine, Jackie. You can have it. Whining too damn much to beg properly, anyway,” Shauna adds with a touch of derision.

“Be nicer to her,” You admonish.

Shauna scoffs. “You know she likes it.”

Jackie moans as you slide another finger in, gently working her open before speeding up like she's been begging for. You hum in consideration, before finally admitting. “She's certainly wet enough for it.”

“I can hear you,” Jackie mutters, face flushed with embarrassment as she hides it in your neck.

“Quiet baby, the adults are talking,” You chide with a grin, pressing a kiss against her neck. Jackie bites at your shoulder in warning but is clearly hanging on to every word that leaves either of you as she whines out her agreement.

“You're so loud,” Shauna comments.

“Mmm, Yeah?” Jackie asks breathlessly.

“Yeah. Whole neighborhood is probably enjoying the show, it's a wonder Y/N hasn't gone deaf with all that screeching you're doing,” Shauna starts, slowly gaining traction as Jackie listens intently. “Tell me, can you survive a moment without being the center of attention or do you save that just for us?”

“No. No, I can't,” Jackie agrees pitifully.

“Don't listen to her, Jackie. You sound so good whining for us like that,” You say.

“Please,” She cries out, voice cracking slightly.

"Oh, she really liked that,” You comment idly, thumbing at Jackie's clit as her hips stutter. She's at a loss for words as she makes an incoherent plea against your ear, her arms gripping you tightly as she loses any semblance of a rhythm in favor of bonelessly letting you fuck her.

You can faintly hear Shauna's voice coming over the phone, but it's drowned out by the sound of Jackie's ragged breathing interrupted by an occasional moan of your name.

“Look so pretty, Jackie. You're taking it so well,” You murmur, shifting to accommodate her as she absolutely melts into you at the words.

“You close, baby?” Jackie nods exaggeratedly, a desperate noise escaping her that you're more than familiar with.

“Ask her to come for you, Shauna. She likes that.”

“Yeah? I want you to come for me, Jackie. Please? I want to hear it.”

As loud as Jackie's been the whole night she's nearly silent as she comes, mouth open in a silent moan that turns into a long drawn-out noise of utter satisfaction after a moment. Your fingers work steadily inside her as you help her ride out her orgasm, only pulling out as she bites pointedly at your shoulder.

You can hear the soft sounds of Jackie and Shauna's breaths as you rub gently at Jackie's breath, the silence stretching on for a comfortable few minutes until Jackie breaks it.

“Shauna,” Jackie murmurs lazily, “Did you…?”

Shauna's quiet for a moment before slowly saying “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“When did you–”

“A couple times,” Shauna says firmly, clearing her throat awkwardly. You grin.

“Wowza, Shipman,” Jackie breathes out, nosing into your neck. “You're kinda easy, aren't you?”

Shauna scoffs. “Says you.”

“Says me? I'm not the one who…”

You groan in irritation as you relax back against the couch. They'll never change.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader #minors dni

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