#their suits gleaming with power

[queenofdragons12]

Your Quantum Enigma

Chapter 7: Your Quantum Enigma

Your heart races as you step into the Quantum Realm lab, surrounded by an array of advanced equipment and pulsating energy. The mission that lies ahead in "Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania" is unlike anything you have faced before. The fabric of reality itself is at stake, and you have been chosen to be part of the team to save it.

Ant-Man and the Wasp, their suits gleaming with power, turn to you with unwavering confidence. "We need your expertise for this mission," Ant-Man says. "The quantum anomaly threatens to tear apart multiple dimensions, and we believe you can help us solve this mystery."

You nod, your mind focused and ready. You have spent countless hours studying quantum physics, delving into the complexities of the multiverse. Your unique insights have caught the attention of the team, and now your knowledge will be put to the ultimate test.

Equipped with a specialized quantum suit, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your veins. The suit provides enhanced strength, agility, and the ability to navigate the intricate web of quantum realities. It is a tangible symbol of your role in this crucial mission.

Stepping into the Quantum Tunnel, you brace yourself for the mind-bending journey ahead. As you shrink down to microscopic size, the world transforms around you, revealing a mesmerizing tapestry of colors and shapes. The quantum realm is a place of wonder and danger, where the laws of physics bend and twist.

Your senses heighten as you venture deeper into the quantum realm. The team moves with purpose, exploring alternate dimensions and unraveling the threads of the anomaly. You encounter ethereal beings, whose existence seems to defy logic, and landscapes that shift with every step.

As you navigate this perplexing realm, your mind races, connecting the dots and piecing together the puzzle. The clues left by the enigmatic entity point to a hidden truth, a key that will unlock the secrets of the anomaly. Your expertise in quantum mechanics allows you to decipher the intricate patterns that elude others.

You face formidable challenges, each more daunting than the last. Your quick thinking and resourcefulness prove crucial in overcoming these obstacles. You utilize your knowledge of quantum entanglement to manipulate reality, bending it to your advantage. It is a delicate dance, a battle fought with intellect and intuition.

Through it all, your determination remains unwavering. The fate of the multiverse rests on your shoulders, and you will not falter. As you delve deeper into the quantum realm, a sense of purpose fills your being. The enigma begins to unravel, and with each discovery, you inch closer to restoring balance.

Finally, after an arduous journey, you reach the epicenter of the anomaly. It is a nexus of swirling energies, threatening to unravel the very fabric of reality. Your mind races as you assess the situation, searching for a solution.

With a combination of your technical expertise and the team's collaborative efforts, you devise a plan. You recalibrate the Quantum Tunnel's energy output to stabilize the anomaly and reverse its effects. It requires precision and split-second timing.

As the Quantum Tunnel hums with renewed power, your heart pounds with anticipation. With a surge of energy, you successfully close the rifts, restoring balance to the multiverse.

Exhausted yet triumphant, you stand amidst the fading remnants of the anomaly. The team celebrates their victory, knowing that you have averted a catastrophic event. Your contribution has been vital in unraveling the mystery and saving countless realities.

Leaving the quantum realm, you return to your normal size, stepping out of the Quantum Tunnel with a newfound sense of purpose. You have witnessed the fragile nature of existence and understand the importance of protecting it.

#We need your expertise for this mission #“ Ant-Man says. ”The quantum anomaly threatens to tear apart multiple dimensions #and we believe you can help us solve this mystery. #Your heart races as you step into the Quantum Realm lab #surrounded by an array of advanced equipment and pulsating energy. The mission that lies ahead in “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania” is un #and you have been chosen to be part of the team to save it. #Ant-Man and the Wasp #their suits gleaming with power #turn to you with unwavering confidence. #You nod #your mind focused and ready. You have spent countless hours studying quantum physics #delving into the complexities of the multiverse. Your unique insights have caught the attention of the team #and now your knowledge will be put to the ultimate test. #Equipped with a specialized quantum suit #you feel a surge of energy coursing through your veins. The suit provides enhanced strength #agility #and the ability to navigate the intricate web of quantum realities. It is a tangible symbol of your role in this crucial mission. #Stepping into the Quantum Tunnel #you brace yourself for the mind-bending journey ahead. As you shrink down to microscopic size #the world transforms around you #revealing a mesmerizing tapestry of colors and shapes. The quantum realm is a place of wonder and danger

[airbenderedacted]

What was the beta s2 villain design? I haven���t heard or seen abt that one n im curious

,,,,Bombshell my bbygirl,.

#she is So fucking cute & as a standalone design i love her but #for WOYS2's main villain.. for WOY's MAIN CAST........ bro absolutely not this is literally just 'hrjfdf woman hot' villan and nothing else #swapping this out for manic hot topic gremlin bastard lesbian was where they struck gold like. ty god hrjbhsdjgfbng #not that the way they used dominator was /perfect/ by any means #bc believe you me there's a few things in the show that were ehghhghhh at best & stuff from the crew that pisst me AWFF at worst but #overall dom was really solid. the purpose her character served and the writing & character building choices for her were all *chef's kiss* #there was a lot about her whole vibe that was communicated REALLY WELL through her design alone imo #(and a lot about her personality and motivations that you could gleam from JUST her first out-of-suit appearance on its own #i just really wish they'd given WAY fewer fucks about her being pewtty or conventionally attractive or Whatever bRO IT'S HOLDING YOU BACK!! #i dont think Any of that stuff was prioritized when brainstorming for bombshell here 😭 maybe they hadn't fleshed out those ideas yet #bc with Bombshell? the only things her design communicate are that she's hot & apparently that's Important + she has a bug theme going on #& i GUESS that she's ostentatious & goes for v loud clothing. those pauldrons command a room #so you can get ''commandeering'' and MAYBE even ''powerful'' from that #but for a MAIN VILLAIN meant to majorly challenge the main cast & shake up the show‚ THat is extremely milquetoast!!!!!! #again there's rlly nothing here to take away from her design overall other than that she's sexy. why define her that way for being a her #it's such a big ''nah man'' #it's tired it's been done to death #the read you get on her from Overall Vibes alone are very bland!!! #i have to wonder at what point they really started to get the ball rolling in the right direction w/ their S2 big bad to end up w dominator #wondering if maybe it was when they figured they should make her a punk to contrast wander being a hippie? #do you think maybe they just got input from women #grateful every day for the absolute bastard supreme we ended up with #finalhaunts

[frownyalfred]

okay I know the “do you bleed?” line in Batman V Superman was universally mocked, but imagine if you’ve spent your whole life invulnerable and some crazy motherfucker dressed in a bat suit who brands people for fun and has no problem crashing millions of dollars worth of military grade tech stares at you with a crazy gleam in his eye and asks if you bleed like he’s personally and scientifically invested in seeing you do so. I would’ve shit my pants, super powers be damned.

#thoughts #I’m sure this has been said before #and more eloquently than my hungover ass can manages #bruce wayne #batman #dc #superman #superbat #clark kent #batfleck #bvs #batman v superman #batman v superman: dawn of justice

[the-blind-bard]

Parasite Shigaraki x Reader

| Part 2 | Part 3 (Soon) | Masterlist |

Synopsis: [Strangers/Lovers, Smut, Loser!Obsessive! Shigaraki] - |Shigaraki x Reader| Your family called your quirk "parasite", able to feed off of someone's quirk and make it temporarily your own. Luckily, the only other person on the subway happens to have the most powerful quirk you've ever seen and zero experience with women.

Content: MDNI, eventual smut, reader has a quirk, submissive Shigaraki, fem reader, prob other stuff but that's all i can think of

Your eyes burned.

Tired and weighty, your eyes were exhausted from your shift at work. You winced when stepping onto the familiar public transport system with its flickering, yellow light and stench of stale cigarettes and musk. 

Working as late as you do, there are usually only ever two or four others riding the subway with you. 

Most were either just as tired as you, working late and reveling in the joys of selling your health for capital gain, or they were harder-fallen victims of the fucked system just trying to grab a sheltered sleep. 

People abandoned. Deemed worthless rubble of society with quirks that weren’t suited for practicality or glamour. Just aimlessly riding round and round and round-

There was only one other passenger tonight.

This guy was slouched over, posture shitty and seemingly contributing to the slightly musky scent of the subway. 

You guessed that by a couple of odd-end stains on his ratty, black hoodie that shielded his face from view, aside from some loose, blue hairs.

Your decision on where to sit was made instinctively. 

The closer, the better.

For the sake of your quirk.

Your family had always called your quirk “parasite”. 

You embraced the title, albeit with a touch of bitter sarcasm. 

But they were right. 

You were born a parasite. 

Your quirk fed off of the born abilities of others.

Allowing you, with just a touch, to take someone’s quirk from them. You ripped away the abilities that they had known their entire lives and rendered them quirkless until you disengaged physical contact. 

The drawbacks? Aside from having to be close enough to touch them, your quirk also wouldn’t let you use someone’s quirk against them. Anything else was fair game. 

It was a bit cruel. 

Such a useful quirk, but only as useful as the people around you. 

You knew what it felt like to be quirkless, since that’s how most of your time was spent. You didn’t even usually bother telling people you had a quirk, sick of inflating other’s god complex by making them think you’d depend on them. 

It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something you just gave away. That’s why you always silently smirked when people gave you odd looks at night for sitting directly next to them on the subway. 

It was safer for you to be able to grab them quickly and rip their own abilities from their bodies rather than you be sitting on the other side of the subway and finding out how dangerous they are.

You sat down right next to the blue-haired guy, rubbing some of the weariness off of your face and shooting him a polite smile. 

Your quirk made you bold in your adult years. Whenever you realized how dependent people were on their quirks alone, you felt secure in your abilities to throw off any danger coming your way by rendering them useless.

The guy’s body had frozen entirely when you sat next to him, thumbs halting on the mobile game he was playing seconds ago. 

You’d never seen someone hold a phone quite like that.

You watched, interested, as his hands flexed around the device, outstretched pinkies twitching in what was likely annoyance that you sat next to him with every other seat being open. 

You glanced down at his phone screen. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes were drawn there by the way his pinkies oddly hovered, catching your attention. 

Your eyes gleamed with a small burst of energy, as your guard was let slightly down. 

Any guy sitting on the subway playing Minecraft mobile in the dead of night surely couldn’t be that bad. 

You felt obligated to do something about his reaction, feeling kinda bad for disturbing him. Then again, it was kinda cute how jumpy he was. Seems like people don’t elect to sit next to him often.

Maybe it was the way he was so spooked by the mere action of you sitting next to him or maybe you would later blame it on you seeing the comforting, colorful blocks of that nostalgic game, but you tried to think of a way to comfort the man when you realized he was still frozen like a flighty, feral cat. 

“It’s more useful to trap the animals and start a farm.” You noticed his little character was facing only two sheep, holding a little block of TNT. “Then you’ll have a whole herd of sheep to blow up instead of just two. Taking out two sheep? Doesn’t do much. Take out a herd? They’ll remember that.”

You chuckled lightly, just trying to be pseudo-philosophical about Minecraft sheep while also slipping in some of your signature bitter pessimism.

Little did you know, those words would replay in his mind for years to come. Those words would consume him on silent nights, driving him to plot and destroy. Destroy the herd. Destroy the sheep. Make them remem-

“Whatever.” He put his phone away with a scoff, irritated that his game was interrupted. 

He looked up, giving you a full view of his face. Something about him was endearing to you, even if the scratch marks around his neck looked painful. 

Without his game, he just sat there, peripheral view gliding over to you.

He momentarily thought about dusting you for being so fucking annoying, but he couldn’t ignore the stuttering of his pulse or the sweat that collected on his palms when the smell of your perfume slightly covered up the dingy state of the subway. 

His throat felt impossibly tight and his neck itched uncomfortably. Were you making fun of him? Fucking bitch. You think you can just sit next to him as a joke, smelling nice and smiling so prettily at him? 

Girls never sat by Tomura Shigaraki.

You shrugged your shoulders at his silence, indifferent to him shutting down your Minecraft philosophy. What a shame, you would have loved to watch him play for a while to take your mind off of the subway ride. 

You reached in your bag and took out a book you had picked up recently. It was some pompous piece of classic literature that you didn’t really care for but liked to be informed about. 

After all, how can you tell your coworker how fucking dumb and up-his-own-ass he is unless you read what he’s talking about? 

Yeah, this was a spite read. 

You sat there reading for only about ten minutes or so, ignoring the red eyes that were trying to pretend like they weren’t watching you intently. 

Sure, he was kinda weird, but, honestly, you thought that maybe he was worried you were the creep. 

Yeah, you probably would keep an eye on him too if he sat next to you on an empty subway and started on a rant about society in relation to video game sheep…

You would reflect on your horribly embarrassing actions later and remember to leave poor, anxious boys alone when they’re trying to game in peace on the subway. 

The subway lurched particularly hard as it came to a stop. 

You had tried to catch it, but a quiet gasp came from your lips as your body jerked and the book flew from your hands that were gripped too loosely around it. 

He wasn’t thinking. 

He was a fucking idiot.

You might- in his mind- be making fun of him and you might just be some side-quest bitch annoying him on his way back to the hideout, but at this moment, Shigaraki was thinking about how good you smelled and how soft your fingers looked against the pages of that stupid book.

 He thought he was so slick, staring at the way your hands ran over the page, him wondering what would it be like if a girl ran her hands over him like that. What would a girl feel like? What would you feel like?

He hoped you didn’t notice that he leaned in slightly to smell you better. He decided he liked your perfume. A lot.

He was growing tense with the excitement of being so close to a pretty girl that apparently liked video games and also apparently seemed to be somewhat of a pessimistic asshole like him. 

One that chose to sit next to him and talk to him. 

He felt like a dating sim where a new character just unexpectedly got unlocked, introducing the MC’s love interest. This had to be a part of the main plot for him.

So, like an awkward, horny idiot, he reached out to stop her book from hitting the rank subway floor. He thought she was going to smile brightly and talk to him again, thanking him and blushing. 

Instead, his eyes were wide as he remembered who he is- 

what he is.

He’s a fucking monster, not some handsome dating sim MC. 

Your book was ash, falling through his fingers. 

You weren’t tired anymore.

Your lips parted in surprise which enraged Shigaraki as he assumed it to be fear. 

Shigaraki’s expression looked indifferent, but you could kinda detect the shameful flush of red creeping up his neck before he brought up a hand to incessantly scratch the skin. 

You gave him the courtesy of looking away as blood collected under his nails. Was that a drawback of his quirk or was he just that embarrassed? 

Regardless, what a spectacular quirk. Your brain felt like it was suddenly submerged in ice water, a cool clarity of all the things you could do with someone like this by your side. 

The access to power you’d have.

Alone, you’re no one. With him, you could both have everything.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, about to acknowledge how you know it was just an accident and how he meant to do something good, but right as those words went to leave your lips, a group of three obnoxious men boarded the subway.

They were all laughter and stumbles, not caring who heard their obnoxious banter. 

Your eyes left the boy next to you and went straight to one of the men. Particularly, to the one that just whistled at you. 

They all muttered amongst themselves, glassy eyes searching your face and figure, picking apart your appearance’s worth to their disgusting desires. 

It would be so easy. 

If you always had someone like the anxious boy with his beautiful quirk next to you, it could all be so easy.

“Hey babe,” the tallest one of the bunch said as he was carried on by his friend’s laughter, “why don’t you come sit over here and let us give you the subway ride of your life? Might not wanna get off though.” 

His friends cackled, a loud and disgusting sound. 

Your brows pinched in irritation, but you smiled. Something empty. Not like the sweet and earnest ones you had given minutes ago to the itching boy next to you.

“Don’t know, your friends seem to be riding your cock hard enough as it is.”

The boy next to you loosened his stiff shoulders for the first time since you got on the subway, lightly exhaling a breath and restraining laughter. 

Your smirk grew, grateful you also had an audience to urge you on. Glad he seemed responsive to what you said.

However, the guys across from you didn’t find it as funny, standing over and pointing a finger towards you. 

“You bitch, I’ll kick your fucking jaw off. Stupid slut.”

You watched as the man approached. Was he alluding to a kicking quirk? 

No matter if you were right or not, you didn’t want to find out. He had pure hatred in his eyes at you embarrassing him publicly, and he came right at you to do something about it.

You didn’t see the blue-haired boy’s hand get ready to reach out towards the man. Instead, you felt his startled shock and felt him try to jerk away from your grasp as you grabbed his hand.

You’d have to apologize to Minecraft boy later.

You felt it as soon as your soft skin made contact with his rough, cracked hands. 

Power.

It was like a drug had hit your system all at once, rushing to your fingers and making them unmatchable weapons of destruction. 

You reached out and touched the fucker standing across from you, watching as he decayed.

It was breathtaking. One minute solid, the next…reduced to dust.

Silence. The only sound was the rumbling of the subway as it neared the next stop.

The other two men looked at where their friend had been in fear. It was like the world stood still for just a second.

But not for long as the men started clambering to the exit in anticipation of the next stop where they practically flung themselves out of the subway. 

Next to you, the boy physically shook. 

Fuck. You were hoping you hadn’t fucked up too badly. This couldn’t be the last time you see him. The last time you get to use that quirk.

You gave him a sad smile, hand rising to his cheek, lightly caressing it. You felt a pang in your heart as he leaned further into it, his breath hitching in his throat.

You spoke gently to him. 

“Hey now, it’s okay…I’m sorry I didn’t ask before I did that. I didn’t think I really had the time to explain. I’m (Y/n) by the way.” 

You tried to comfort him, hoping he wouldn’t bolt out the door. You really didn’t give a fuck about killing some random dickhead, but this sweet boy seemed so shaken up, you needed to calm him down. You needed to make sure you didn’t scare him off.

You needed to feel the power of his quirk again.

In his seat, Tomura shook but it wasn’t the nerves you suspected. He was nervous for far more carnal reasons. 

No, his breath was coming out in labored pants, him practically vibrating at the lingering ghosts of your touch. 

Not only had you touched his hands and not decayed before his eyes, but then you dared to kill that man in front of everyone without flinching.

It’s like you were his personal fallen angel.

And the hand that had lightly held his cheek with it’s soothing and stern hold? He was instantly addicted to this new feeling, wanting your hands to never leave his skin again. 

His face was flush and his pants shouldn’t feel as tight as they did. He felt like he was suffocating under a fire. Fuck, he might even cum in his pants if you got any closer.

He thought you were fucking perfect. A custom character made just for his two-player mode. 

“Shigaraki Tomura.”

You smiled, glad to see he was still willing to talk to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shigaraki.”

Red eyes stared into yours, wide and filled with ravenous wonder.

“Who are you?”

You laughed, “(L/N) (Y/N)-”

Shigaraki shook his head, hands clumsily reaching out for yours, shaking like his life depended on holding your hand in his own again.

His grip on you was impossibly tight, stinging your own skin as his nails dug into the living flesh. His hold was harsh and unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to using his hands without the intention to destroy. 

“No. Who the fuck are you? Why doesn’t this do anything to you?”

You shook out of his grip, entwining your fingers between his. 

You ran your thumb over his hand while both of yours were locked, you enjoying the simmering power under your fingertips. 

“Oh trust me,” you leaned in closer to him to whisper into his ear, enjoying how you can hear every labored breath of his from being so close. You could even feel the tremble of his body. “It does something to me.”

A little noise bubbled up from his throat and his face flushed with the prettiest red you had seen aside from his own eyes.

You let go of his hands only for him to involuntarily whine and squirm at the feeling of you reaching into his pocket. 

Grabbing his phone, you couldn’t help but be fond of how sweet Tomura seemed. With just a touch of your hand, he melted, and with just a touch of his, you destroyed.

 It felt almost fated.

“Unlock it.”

Usually, Tomura wouldn’t hesitate to bite back if someone dared to give orders to him like that, but he didn’t feel like himself. No, this was different from when Dabi was being an asshole or some pro-hero fuck tried to tell him what to do.

This made his stomach churn in the most wonderful way. 

He wanted you. He could be good for you. Only for you.

You gave the phone to him, his pinky already stretched outwards by reflex. It was a little sad to you how careful he had to be. 

“My number’s in your phone. Text me. I’ll tell you all about my quirk next time.”

Your number? This couldn’t be real. He was sure he was bound to wake up to an embarrassing mess of sticky sheets any minute now. 

“Sure.” 

You smile at him and grab your bag, preparing to get off at your stop. 

God, you hoped he would text you. You weren’t looking forward to having to investigate all the possible stops on this route to find him if he didn’t message you.

You would find him.

Neither of you were aware of the other’s intention, but you wanted to absolutely ruin him by making him yours in every possible meaning of the word.

Meanwhile, he considered you to already be his.

But you knew one thing for sure, Tomura Shigaraki has not seen the last of you. 

Pt 2

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #tomura shigiraki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki smut #tenko shimura

[sp1cy-t0ss]

Antares

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45534721

The first thing Nightwing hears upon regaining consciousness is ominous chanting. A man’s voice rings out over the rest, ranting about an Eternal King, infinite power, and -- oh boy -- sacrifices. He tunes it out to assess the situation.

He’s in an old warehouse. Robin’s here too, looking even more annoyed than Nightwing feels, and both of them have their hands and ankles bound in rope. His comm is on silent, just as he left it, like an idiot. The ranting man and his followers in matching robes are gathered around a ritual circle in the middle of the floor. Yeah, that tells him all he needs to know. They need to get out, now.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly when the leader finishes his speech and turns to them.

“So,” the man asks with a cruel smile. “Which of you ‘heroes’ will have the honor of bringing our Lord to this plane?” 

“I will.” Robin’s voice is sharp, unyielding. 

The man is obviously surprised to receive an actual answer to his taunt, but obliges. He pulls Robin away without another word.

“What?! No! Robin, you can’t--” Nightwing’s protest is cut off with a punch to the stomach from one of the robed lackeys.

“I have my reasons, Nightwing; it must be me.” Robin’s face reveals nothing, but he gives a subtle hand signal: I have a plan.

Nightwing forces himself to calm down. They’ll get out of this. He just has to trust his Robin. While everyone’s eyes are off him, he quietly works at the amateur knots.

The leader drags Robin into the circle without a fight. He raises a jeweled dagger, intentions clear... 

But Robin is faster. He bites his own wrist, hard, and spits his blood into the circle. The runes light up in terrible Lazarus green, and Robin pushes himself upright with a malicious grin.

The lead cultist scrambles back from the circle and into a deep bow. The chanting stops as his minions follow suit. Robin continues to look far too smug for his situation. Nightwing feels a headache coming on somewhere under his renewed panic.

This is his plan?! 

There’s a blinding flash of light. When the spots clear from Nightwing’s vision, the Eternal King is floating in the circle, mere feet from the bound Robin.

The Eternal King isn’t quite the grotesque horror he expected. Their body is a glittering black void, a sleek humanoid shadow with misty white hair and bright, bright eyes of toxic green. A cold fog rolls off of their body in waves.

“Antares,” the shadow rumbles, and Nightwing feels static thrum in his bones with the sound. The room is painfully cold, but the King doesn’t seem aggressive yet. Maybe they really can bargain their way out of this mess.

Robin doesn’t flinch. He looks the Eternal King right in the eyes, utterly fearless, and smirks. “Hello, Beloved.”

What?

The King stares silently, floating closer. For a long moment, no one moves. No one speaks.

“My lord, does the sacrifice please you?” The ringleader cuts in, standing up with a greedy gleam in his eyes. 

Something in the air changes as the King turns toward the man. Something cold, electric, heavy under the skin. Nightwing suppresses a shiver as he works through the last of the rope.

“You d̵̢̛a̵̼̽ṙ̴͎e̵͙̐.”

The leader pales and falls to his knees. “My Lord, if this offering is insufficient, we have another--”

The King s̴̱̖̺̺̓͊̕̕ć̵͇͇͔̈r̴̥͐e̸̥̬͌̂̌̊a̴̭̔̓̀̔͘m̵̯͑̋͌͠s̵̗̤̻̭̍̿, a furious howl that blurs Nightwing’s vision and claws his ears. The sound is everywhere, driving him to his knees. Growing shadows seem to absorb his little brother just as Nightwing realizes he’s blacking out. 

They’re falling, they’re falling someone help they’re screaming he’s screaming make it stop dead on impact blood and bones make it stop make it STOP--

When he comes back to himself, it’s quiet. Nightwing blinks tears from his eyes, gasping for frigid air that pierces his lungs like knives. The floor outside the circle is covered in blood splatter. The cultists have all been struck down, and many aren’t moving. 

But he’s not looking at them.

Because the monster is coiled around Robin like a snake, eyes burning as it surveys the room. Robin seems unharmed for now, but he has to get his baby brother away from that thing.

He steps forward, and those endless green eyes lock onto him. It snarls at his approach, revealing multiple rows of teeth. Claws subtly tighten on Robin’s shoulders. Nightwing sinks into a combat stance, and the creature braces itself to leap.

Pure, animal instinct screams that Nightwing won’t survive this fight.. It doesn’t matter. He’ll give his all like he always has, and Robin can escape. The others will find a way to take it down. He just has to buy time.

“Dove, it’s alright.”

To Nightwing’s amazement, the creature freezes. It turns to look at Robin, warbling in apparent confusion before turning back to Nightwing with a hiss.

Robin grabs its face in both hands and forces it to look at him. “No. That’s Nightwing, remember? He will not harm us. I am safe. We are safe.” His voice is steady, soothing as he gently presses their foreheads together. A spark of awareness slowly returns to ‘Dove’s’ eyes.

“Come back to me.”

The monster sags in Robin’s grip, slowly folding in on itself until a nearly-human teen with snowy white hair is left floating gently in its place.

Robin smiles, gentle and shockingly warm. “There you are.”

‘Dove’ is shaking. Their eyes are locked on Robin, as though he’s the only thing in their universe. “Antares,” they breathe, before wrapping Robin in a tight hug.

Robin briefly looks to Dick, gesturing toward the cultists. He then returns his attention to the distraught being, resting his chin on their head and both hands on their back. The obvious dismissal makes Nightwing uneasy, but the kid has a point. They'll just have to check him for hypnosis or mind control back at the Cave.

Now that Nightwing is actually looking at the cultists, their injuries are horrific. Deep lacerations, stab wounds, frostbite, severed limbs...none of them seem likely to die with medical treatment, but every last one is maimed. 

The ringleader is worst of all. His eyes are gouged out, and his hands ripped off and cauterized by the same unearthly frost that burns scattered marks into his skin. An unfamiliar symbol has been clawed into his chest. 

Nightwing looks back to the circle, where Dove is quietly sobbing. Their face is tucked securely into Robin’s neck, and Nightwing hears whispers of I was scared and can’t lose you too.  

This is the same person?

By the time the cultists are all secured and the police have been called, Dove seems to have calmed down. Time to play the diplomat. Again. 

Damn, maybe Steph has a point about Eldest Daughter Syndrome.

“I, uh, hate to interrupt, but we should probably get out of here, yeah? GCPD will be here in a couple minutes,” he proposes with a friendly smile.

Dove wipes their eyes. “Right.” Then they look around the room and wince. “Uhm, sorry you? Had to see that? I...panicked. You’re okay though, right? Not hurt or anything?” The question is disarmingly earnest, and there’s nothing but concern in their eyes. Hm.

“Nah, not a scratch,” Nightwing dismisses. Then he remembers he’s apparently talking to a king. “Thank you for saving Robin, Your Highness,” he adds with a bow of his head. 

“Nuh-uh, no titles. Gross.” The King makes a face, then smiles with renewed cheer. “Call me Phantom. He/him, ghost, and general pain in the ass, at your service!” He floats higher and punctuates his announcement with a midair flip. “You might as well know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot now.”

Crap. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Nightwing ventures.

‘Phantom’ exchanges a meaningful look with Robin. Nightwing barely has time to register the mischief on both their faces before Robin pulls the being down into a kiss. 

A deep kiss now. Really deep. Yeah, they’ve definitely forgotten he’s here.

When they finally separate, Robin looks quite satisfied. Phantom, however, sticks out a forked tongue and scrunches his face. “Blech, blood. What did you...” His eyes land on Robin’s still-bloody wrist, then the droplets still in the circle. 

“You didn’t.” A grin creeps across his face. “You have me on soul speed dial and you still hijacked a whole-ass summoning!”

“Tt. I was making a point.” Robin crosses his arms.

Phantom cackles. “You are literally the most dramatic person I’ve ever met!” he crows.

Robin raises an eyebrow and gestures to the warehouse full of mangled cultists. Phantom opens his mouth to retort, but it’s at this point that Nightwing finally manages to pull his jaw off the floor and speak. 

“Robin,” he says with deliberate calm. “What the fuck.”

And then they hear police sirens. Fantastic.

“Crap. Don’t worry, I got it!” Phantom declares as he rips a green hole in existence. Robin is unfazed, which is rapidly getting less and less surprising.

A woman in the corner stirs. Phantom makes a ‘one moment’ gesture before he stalks over and yanks her forward with a growl. “You’ve kept your tongue for a reason. Spread the word: Robin is mine.” (Robin stands taller, obviously pleased by that extremely concerning statement.)  The woman nods frantically, and Phantom drops her to the ground. 

Without further preamble, Phantom zips back over and shoves both vigilantes through the rip.

Just like that, they’re all in Damian’s bedroom. The two boys immediately sit together on the edge of the bed, while Dick remains standing. Dick doesn’t even know where to begin, so he can only give a helpless ‘why’ sort of gesture. Thankfully, Damian seems to take pity on him.

“Richard, this insufferable fool is my Beloved. His name is Danny, and he is seventeen.” Then he smirks. “You may refer to him as High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms; The Tyrant’s Bane, True Balance, Son Of Stars, Pride of Time, Death’s Chosen--”

The ghost groans dramatically, flopping across Damian’s lap like a wet noodle. “Oh my gawd, Dames, why would you tell him that?”

"It is very important that Richard recognizes your position and authority.” Damian says, not even trying to sound convincing.

Danny reaches up and pushes at Damian’s face. It brings to mind a pair of cats, especially with Damian doing his best to look annoyed instead of fond. “Betrayal! I want a divorce!”

That’s the last straw. Dick chokes on his own spit and has to thump his chest a few times to breathe right again. With monumental effort, he manages to wheeze out a strangled “Are you MaRriEd?!”

Danny tries to sputter out a reply, but Dick is distracted by Damian laughing. It’s a low, light sound, with no attempt made to disguise it. 

“Of course not,” Damian says. He cards a hand through Danny’s hair, the other boy sighing contently and looking up at him with adoring neon eyes. “We've only courted for seven months now. It will be another three years before we wed.” 

Dick is just. Gonna ignore that last bit. For his own sanity. “Wait, how did you keep a whole boyfriend secret for seven months? In this family?” 

“Bribery.” “Threats.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Babs and Duke probably know then.

“Cool, good to know. One more question.” Well, more like a billion, but he may as well start with an icebreaker before the inevitable interrogation. Besides, it’s a big brother's duty to embarrass his siblings. “Why Dove?”

Damian says nothing, but his deep blush is almost audible.

“Because I’m cute and fluffy!” Danny chirps.

“Hardly,” Damian scoffs. “It’s because you are raucously annoying and constantly crash into windows.”

Literally everything about this situation is baffling, but Danny looks so offended that Dick can’t help but laugh.

“You lying asshole!” Danny screeches.

Damian turns to Dick. “He attempted to use a grapple three times and broke eleven windows; four of them with his face. I have videos.” Danny gasps, the two start bickering, and Dick is left to his thoughts once more. 

Even as the pair separate to point fingers and trade increasingly creative insults, their body language is completely relaxed. As much as Dick is panicking about a powerful undead monarch around their family, Damian is happy. He has been for months, now that Dick thinks about it. He’s been loosening up a little, leaving the manor more, and even mentioning a few new friends (though he refuses to use the word.)

Whoever or whatever Danny is, he’s been good for him.

“Well,” Dick cuts in, interrupting an inventive declaration about overripe cheese. “We’ll obviously need to talk about this. But for what it’s worth,” he smiles. “I’m happy for you, Baby Bat.” 

With that said, Dick walks out of the bedroom. Danny gives him a grateful smile, and a quiet thank you, Richard can be heard as he closes the door behind him.

Dick walks away at a leisurely pace until he reaches the end of the hallway, where he promptly breaks into a sprint toward the Cave. Checking the Batcomputer to make sure Damian hasn’t noticed the planted bug yet, he turns on his comms. Unsurprisingly, the entire family is yelling and demanding answers.

Well, at least he won’t be the only one having a heart attack tonight.

#dp x dc #dead serious #they're 16 and 17 #danny says he wants a divorce at every mild inconvenience #danny has dozens of titles and damian has memorized every last one entirely to annoy him #they alternate between adorable cats and those heckling muppets #spice writes #dc x dp #danny x damian

[suzukiblu]

Danny/Duke(DeadLights or GhostLights), "I'll be waiting... time after time."

Duke found something weird on patrol today. He’s day shift, obviously, but near the end of his shift . . . 

Well, something weird happened. 

Or he saw something weird, more like. 

He saw something weird that’d already happened, maybe. Or . . . was happening? Was about to happen? 

It was hard to tell, for some reason. Like the time didn’t . . . flow quite right. Like the light was reflecting wrong.

So now he’s crouched in the back of the darkest alley he could feel in reasonable range, and he’s holding a tiny, tiny wisp of a thing, a faint little gossamer-fragile globe. It’s . . . light, he thinks. It looks like light. Behaves like it, a little. 

But it behaves like light that he’s using his powers on, not light that just exists. 

So that’s . . . new, yeah. 

Huh. 

Duke doesn’t know why, but he’s worried about the little light. Like it’s about to go out, and like it’d be bad if it went out. 

He wonders . . .

He wraps the darkness around himself better, and thinks of it like a cradle, for some reason. Some reason he can’t quite pin down for himself. The little light flickers, thready and inconstant. It makes him think of a heartbeat, even in the silence, and he wraps more darkness around himself. 

Wraps more darkness around . . . them, some part of him thinks. 

Yeah. “Them”. 

Huh. 

Gotham is never silent unless things are going very wrong, of course. And this is a light, not a heartbeat. Not a . . . 

No. It’s not a heartbeat. 

It’s a heart. 

Duke puts the gentlest spark of illumination on the very tip of his finger and very, very lightly touches the heart’s gossamer-lit surface. It sparks. 

It gleams. 

He sees something like veins on its surface and electric illumination inside it, and something alive all the way through it. Or . . . close to alive. Almost the same as alive.

Well. Maybe not alive, but . . . close enough to count, he thinks. 

Yeah. Definitely close enough to count. 

“It’s okay. I got you,” Duke says, and he doesn’t mean to say it that way, really, but it comes out like he’s talking to a lost little kid. He’s used to that, given the job, but he’s not sure why he’s doing it now. 

But also it’s just–what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why, but it’s what he’s doing. 

Is this . . . this is a person, isn’t it. But is this a person and also a kid? 

He doesn’t know how he knows that, but–it is, isn’t it. This is a kid. A kid who’s gossamer-frail and weak and flickering. 

Okay, well . . . he has to do something about that, then. 

He doesn’t know what exactly he does need to do. It’s . . . there’s something that he needs to do, he knows. Something that he can do. 

He wraps more darkness around them both, twisting the shadows up around them. He makes something like a nest, or maybe an actual cradle after all, and he lets it all interweave into something safe and strong and secure. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he knows he has to do something, and the best he’s got is trying to follow his instincts. Listen to what the light is . . . not saying, exactly, but wants. 

It wants safe. It wants strong. It wants secure. It wants–

“Hey,” a voice says, and Duke looks up and sees a floating silhouette that burns like starlight outside his cradle of shadows, a spiked crown illuminating the air above its head and a burning ring engulfing its right hand. It looks like it’s about to burst into a supernova; like it could destroy worlds. 

It’s a really cute guy about his age with electric green eyes and milk-white hair in a black hazmat suit. 

. . . okay, sure. This might as well happen, Duke thinks. 

“You two need some help down there?” the guy asks, and the little gossamer light glows. 

. . . well, all things considered, Duke’s done crazier things than ask a really cute supernova for childcare tips.

#dpxdc #ghostlights #deadlights #duke thomas #danny fenton #dc signal #danny phantom #anonymous #rinfic #long post

[kisses4kaia]

on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! #angelnon 🤍 #kai's got mail <3📑 #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #corio angel 🪽★ #tbosas smut #tbosas #thg smut #the hunger games #tom blyth smut #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #got just a tad bit carried away here.. oops! #kaia writes coriolanus

[illyrian-dreamer]

Dance with the devil – Part 1

Rhysand x fem!reader series

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Words: 3.3k

TW: Violence, death

Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

Tick, tick, tick.

That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further. 

You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out. 

With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click. 

You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught. 

It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine. 

So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.  

Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.

Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.

That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe. 

It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.

Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place. 

The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice. 

But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother. 

With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.

As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye. 

Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough. 

With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue. 

A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.

With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.

There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.

Get out – that voice urged. 

You had spent too long here already. 

Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard  – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.

You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.

How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about? 

The pit of your stomach deepened. 

Too easy – much, much too easy. 

An open, gaping well. 

Oh gods, this was a–

And then darkness – everywhere. 

You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad. 

A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.

And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.

Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror. 

“Hello, Y/N darling.”

You were dead meat.

A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear. 

Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.

In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.

He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins. 

And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest. 

Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.

Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good. 

But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready. 

Fuck.

That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies. 

You were as good as dead.

Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.

“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.” 

Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic. 

“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”

He was expecting you? 

You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.

If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists. 

Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome. 

“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one. 

Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.

Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore. 

“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more. 

“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.

You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord. 

Were you just a joke to them?

“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”

You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death. 

“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.

Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.

“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”

You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.

“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”

It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself. 

“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.

Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual. 

“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.

“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive. 

You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.

Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see. 

You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly. 

“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning. 

Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.

You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.

Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind. 

Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.

Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before. 

“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before. 

You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well. 

“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.

Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair. 

Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight? 

You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way. 

Azriel was right – it was suicide to try. 

Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly. 

“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.” 

A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord. 

“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly. 

Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?” 

You scowled in return. 

Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue. 

“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

You winced. “I don't know anything.”

Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.

You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back. 

“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white. 

Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”

“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”

Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching. 

You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought. 

He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home. 

“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly. 

All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”

You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch. 

“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure. 

Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod. 

Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.

Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.

A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object. 

Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll

“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”

You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer. 

“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”

He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”

Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.

“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.

You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil? 

Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him. 

Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”

A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.  

Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.” 

Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.

You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.

Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.” 

He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction. 

You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled. 

Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it. 

He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three. 

“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”

With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night. 

Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈 I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together. General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below! La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞

#rhysand x reader #rhysand series #morally grey rhysand #rhys series #rhys x reader #rhys x oc #azriel #cassian #rhys fanfic #acotar fandom #acotar angst #acotar series #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #rhys x fem!reader #acotarfanfic #dwtd series #the bat boys #a court of thorns and roses #dream big with nic

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Seven

Summary - Your feelings for Eris are confronted and you make a choice that is sure to break you.

Warnings - angst, fluff, depression, betrayal, sadness, more angst

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Velaris hadn't been the same since you had left.

The entire population was scrutinizing the Inner Circle and the beast they called their High Lord who was doing his best to convince his people that you weren't well and had chosen to heal in the company of the realms best healers in Dawn.

No one believed it.

Rhys was pacing about the study, walking the length of it before turning on his heels and following the wall back to the other side whilst Cassian and Azriel stood before him, clammy palms and pale faces as the throbbing power of Rhys threatened to consume them.

It had been a back and forth conflict that had lasted for days, the words thrown had become so intense that Feyre had deigned to move herself and Nyx to the House of Wind. The main consensus was that a war with Autumn would be devastating to all involved, but Rhys had lost his mind for long enough to be void of the capability to see any reason.

All he wanted was his sister back in his court, safe and warm and protected, where her power wouldn't threaten anyone into daring to know more.

"She'll come back," Azriel's voice cut through the haze, his voice was sure but quaking, and Rhys halted his movements, approaching the desk and taking a seat.

Their High Lord was a shell of himself, a wild glare had consumed his dark eyes, none of them could remember the last time he had smiled or joked, all he did was speak of you, of how to get you back.

"Did your shadows tell you something?"

Azriel shuffled in his seat, dreading what he had to say, for his brother didn't know the exact details of what occurred with you at the boarder of Winter and Autumn, "No," he cleared his throat, "You threatened Elain, Lucien, and Eris," he gulped, "And Nesta."

Cassian hadn't been doing well without her, he hardly slept or ate, and he flinched with pain more often than not due to the bond being so weak and brittle, close to extinction. Their shared brother snapped his head in their direction, his gaze wide as it moved between Rhys and Azriel, both of which kept some vital information from him.

The Shadowsinger continued, "You know that y/n would never put anyone in harms way, she would never risk the lives of the people she loves most," he wasn't sure if he was included in that list anymore, "She just wants to be free. I beg you to think of a different way to establish peace."

Rhys rolled his eyes, bored of the same words, "You saw what she can do now," he leaned forward in the chair and the stars panicked in response, blinking quickly, some even vanished from the sky entirely.

Neither of them could escape the image of those licks of blame flame curling up your fingers and forearm, they couldn't escape the coldness in your glare, and Azriel in particular couldn't escape the flash of pain that shot through your face when he had taken a step back from you.

"Even then, does it mean that we need to go to war? We've barely recovered from Hybern and Koschei as it is, our armies will perish-"

"You can both leave," Rhys drawled, uninterested, bored even, as he picked a threat from his suit jacket and let it float to the floor, "Start preparing our armies, Cass." A stiff nod from Cassian acted as his reply, he rose from his seat, eyes still wide and white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight.

Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing.

Nothing.

The faint scent of cinnamon kissed the air, meaning that Eris was home, and the more intense it grew the more it became clear that he was searching for you as he always did when he returned to the manor. All he had to do was follow the aroma of you, the one scent that he would bottle up if he could just so your scent could drown his clothes and senses.

“Hello Fawn,” he called to you, his voice purred with adoration, and your spine tingled at the sensation of it. As quickly as he spoke the words, Eris frowned, noting the blank stare you held at whatever held your attention beyond the window.

Night had fallen upon Autumn, the sky held the last few flickers of light as dark purple licked the sky and faded to black.

The exhaustion was clear on your face as he fell to your side, his arm brushing against your own as though he was reminding you of where you were. Not Night. Autumn.

Eris had believed that he was making some headway with you, but after Rhys, it felt like you had constructed a dam of steel around your mind. Cold and unimpeachable. It was warranted, but dangerous, and Eris noticed you retreating into yourself more every passing moment.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning to face him, you etched his face to memory, whisky amber eyes full of worry, tight lips, messy red hair that fell past his ears; he had left in a rush that morning, negating to properly style his hair which meant that it was messy but too alluring to pay attention to. He was dressed in ivory briefs and a white shirt, a red waistcoat and jacket both adorned with vines of gold.

A High Lord if you ever did see one.

All you wanted to do was reach out and push a strand behind his ear, to graze his cheekbone with your fingers. But you couldn’t. If there was any chance of Rhys finding out of how much Eris meant to you then he would surely ensure the most brutal punishment possible.

A serene but forced smile consumed your lips, lips that were chapped and broken from the bouts of anxiety that crashed down on you, “Nothing,” you told him, eyes flickering. Shaking your head, you explained, “Nesta was a bit brutal with training today but it’s fine.”

That’s right. Eris had been too busy that day to train with you, you had both been enjoying your sessions grappling with the carranam powers you had discovered, but Eris hadn’t had the time, which meant that Nesta was keeping her eye on you.

The stare didn’t relent but you didn’t shrink under it, you’d never shrink yourself for anyone ever again, so you turned back to peer out of the cloudy glass, “How can I make it better?”

Tension fizzled, Eris took your hands in his, stroking his thumb over the soft surface and resting on your pulse, “Train with me tomorrow.”

Eris smirked, “Done.”

Faint cricket song creaked through the open window, the low beating glow of the fireflies allowed you to see the pond rippling beyond the glass panes that were doing their best to keep the cold from seeping into your bones. Moments had flickered where you seemed unsure, moments where your mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was the next best step not only for you, but your people.

For Eris.

Oddly enough, it had been Elain who would come to your room at night, or Lucien; Nesta knew when to leave you alone and Eris didn't like imposing on your space, but Elain and Lucien, together or separate, seemed to know what you needed more than yourself.

Elain would bring an assortment of baked goods, she'd perch them on the edge of the bed and climb atop the comforter to wedge herself beside you; she wouldn't talk, she would simply listen and occasionally chirp soft advise whilst those pastries loosened your lips. Lucien however was much more straightforward, he would burst into your room no matter the time, he knew you'd be awake regardless, he'd say that he could feel your thoughts pulsing about the manor, uneasy and painful, and he would come to you to make you smile.

Much like how Cassian used to.

The soft patter of rain sounded beyond the threshold, the scent of it made you close your eyes and smile, inhaling the newly damp earth of Autumn, "Talk to me," Eris' fingers reached for you, curling a strand of your hair around them and pushing it behind your pointed ear; his fingers continued to travel, hooking beneath your chin and gently tugging your gaze to his, "You haven't been yourself."

Eris towered over you, his breath crept along your cheeks as thunder cracked in the distance, a flash of lightening snapped across the sky, "How can I be?"

It wasn't supposed to be painful, pushing people away, but it was tearing your soul apart. In some way, you'd much rather be alone for the rest of your long life than risk anything ever happening to anyone you loved. Rhys was determined to take you, Eris was determined to not allow it, and you were determined to save them from ruin.

Sighing, you unwound the blockade around your heart, feeling it strain and groan as you gave it space to breathe, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Eris watched your eyes glaze over, he watched that ring of fire dim, he watched as your bottom lip wobbled as you spoke, "I'm tired, Eris."

The High Lord figured as much, the bags that clung to your undereye grew larger each day, he had asked you multiple times if you wanted to talk, but you had denied it, you had been too focused in removing yourself physically so that if you really did then it wouldn't hurt as much.

I'm tired, Eris.

Those three words told him everything he needed to know. You were tired of life, you were tired of the betrayal and the lies, you were tired of the small voices in your mind telling you that you weren't worthy of anything good because how could any good being be used by the people who was meant to love and protect them?

Cracking walls allowed the storm to seep in, and Eris had been expecting it for awhile, he had monitored your anxious actions and sleuthing, he knew that the walls were due to collapse.

"Oh gods," your hand pressed on your stomach, leaving his own palm suddenly cold, you were trying to alleviate the pain dwelling inside of you like a demon, "How could they do this?"

The mere image of your face crumpling had Eris wrapping you into his arms as the last few weeks tore through the abyss toward you, clawing at the confinements you had locked them in. Sobs bubbled through your lips and Eris felt your tears soak through the cotton of his shirt, and all he could do was allow you to go through the motions. It was better to be held in your darkest hour than battle it alone. If all Eris could offer you was his shoulder and gentle caresses, then he would spend the rest of his life making sure he was there to lend them to you.

You had spent the last couple of days playing the memories of your life in your mind, ignoring the blank spots hidden within them, you were trying to figure out what exactly had been a lie, or what you could have done to deserve a life of chains and steel.

"My entire life is tainted now, I don't know what was real anymore. The bargain with Azriel, the shopping trips with Mor, researching with Amren and training with Cassian, painting with Feyre," you paused, "Even Rhys, when did he decide that I was better off locked away? When did he decide that it was best to spread stories of the monster of Velaris rather than the stories of his sister?"

The fond memories of dancing in Rita's until sunrise with Mor and Cassian had turned to ash alongside the moments you had spent with every member of your false family.

Eris ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips grazing across your scalp, he knew you loved the feeling, and his chest rumbled as he spoke, "Do not fear the storm, y/n," his lips lingered just by your ear and you could faintly feel the parting as he spoke against the shell, "You are learning how to sail your ship. You will get through this, we'll get through it all, together," he pulled away from you but still held you in his arms, the flash of lightening slicing across his face, moulding with the light of the dancing flames dotted about the space in the form of tealights and lanterns hanging from the ceiling, "Just for now. Find a corner of your soul that feels good. And rest there."

Feeling seen and heard felt so foreign to you, but in Autumn, with Eris, you felt alive. Autumn had wrapped her doting arms around you and used her embrace to will you back to life, she willed you to find joy and passion, and perhaps even love.

Perhaps the Mother had sent Autumn to you to lead you to a life that would be worth all of the pain and loneliness. Peering up at Eris, you admired his beauty, the sharp but rugged look, the amber whisky eyes that reminded you of molten bronze, his stupidly perfect hair that Nesta told you constantly was something from novels, "Thank you, for making me feel alive."

Eris sucked in a breath and the candles burned brighter, their light covering the ceiling, "Thank you for making me believe that I'm worthy of being happy."

Extending your fingers over his chest, right above his heart, you frowned and asked, "You aren't happy?"

"I wasn't, but then you came, and now I am."

The smile on your face was radiant, soft and gentle, full of understanding, "We only have one life in this world, Eris. That's reason enough to stop holding back," silent permission sang to him and he rested his hands on the curve of your hips.

The demon within you didn't scare him, what Nesta had told him didn't scare him, nothing about you brought him any form of discomfort or doubt.

"I didn't stop thinking about you after I saw you Under The Mountain, you were humming a song that felt so familiar, your voice was so weak but so enchanting," he recounted, "I remember the light finding you like it always has, I remember the vacant look in your eye and the scuffle of your bare and bloody feet on the ground," Eris cupped your face in his hands, and your fingers drifted around his wrists, "That image haunts me, but that song, that beautifully awful thing has been the only thing to bring me any sort of peace since that place." Since Amarantha and Under The Mountain, "I saw you like I do now, wounded and hurting in so many ways, and I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance, that I would make sure it never happened again."

"The war against Hybern was won because of you, I saw you on that battlefield wielding that sword like it was an extension of yourself, you had rose from the ashes of Amarantha herself and tilted the scales in our favour," a gentle amused huff passed through your lips, "Then you aided me, you risked everything for my vision because you believed in it, because you believe in a better world for everyone, not just your own people. And then you came to me for help, because somewhere deep inside of you, you knew you'd be safe here, with me. And that night, on that balcony of the Day Court, for the first time, I saw you and I didn't just want to have you, but I wanted to deserve you. I asked the Mother for you, despite feeling undeserving, feeling disrespectful for ever thinking of it. Instead, I prayed to her to make me worthy of you."

Eris' molten bronze gaze was trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite figure it out, not when he was looking at your lips like that, not when every fibre of your being was needing to mould itself inside of him.

"Do you know what the song is?"

Shaking his head, Eris muttered a small 'no', so you told him, "It's the song of your ancestors, the Symphony of Ash. I knew that it must have been awful to see me like that and you always used to say that you liked my voice, and I just thought that you could use a lullaby."

All air rushed from his lungs. You knew that he was watching you that night, and that song, that beautifully horrid thing, was for him. So that even if his nightmares kept him awake, you voice would lull him back to slumber, a song from his court that you had learned.

Even in the moments when you were worlds apart, strangers almost, you had still cared enough to spare him a thought of comfort in the days that weren't so bright for him either despite your own torture.

"That was for me?"

A delicate hum sounded from your throat, "Take it as a gift from one former betrothed to another."

"Former betrothed?"

Frowning, you pulled back slightly, but that frown soon turned to wonder, "You don't remember?" The blank look in his eye confirmed it, "We were supposed to get married before, well, I was locked away and you were directed to Mor. It was meant to be me and you."

"I remember our parents talking of it when we were children, but I didn't realise that it was ever real."

"It was very real."

Eris felt his soul burn, he felt your fingers curl around it, he felt your darkness kiss his fire, and he shuddered at the singing of his essence, "Me and you?"

"Us."

"Can I kiss you?"

You shouldn't. You couldn't. It would make what you had to do even harder. But it was Eris, it was his eyes and lips, his softness and adoration, it was the small boy you had grown up looking out for always without him even knowing it.

Swallowing hard, you moved closer to him, feeling electric as his fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, "Yes."

Eris lowered his lips to yours an he hovered there for a moment, preparing himself for the moment he had always desired, with the woman he couldn't get out of his mind. His lips were soft against yours, it was like kissing the sun, it was soul-consuming and scorching; his lips moved with yours as his hands ran down your spine to rest on the small of your back, pressing you further into him and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you broke for a moment to breathe.

It was a feeling you wanted to bask in forever, you felt light curl around you, you felt his warmth wrap you up in its embrace, you felt his lips on yours and his nose brushing against the tip of your own.

Fisting your fingers through his hair, you used his shoulders for leverage as he placed you on the countertop, your hands delved into his jacket and ran down his chest, and his gripped the skin of your thighs. Reluctantly, Eris paused before it went any further, exhaling deeply whilst resting his forehead against your own, "As much as I want to make you mine," his eyes delved into your own, "Our first time together deserves to be magical, and alone."

"Too right."

Freezing in position, you turned your head to find Lucien stood in the doorway, shirtless with his hand covering his eyes, peeking at you through his fingers. Eris threw his head back and groaned, cradling your head to his chest to hide your clear embarrassment from Lucien finding you both in a compromising position.

"I'm not judging," Lucien teased, "I just didn't expect to come in here to see you two with your tongues down each other's throats."

"Stop talking," you squeaked, cringing at his booming laugh, you blocked out the words from Eris, and instead waited until he scooped you into his arms, continuing to hide you from Lucien as he carried you upstairs and nestled into the bed with you.

Eris was bare bar his undergarments, his scarred chest shone in the firelight and you found yourself tracing the swirls idly whilst he pressed kisses into your hairline, allowing his thumb to stroke against your cheek.

"Tomorrow we'll figure out how to put a stop to this," he sounded so sure, but you knew he was scared, he held you a touch tighter as he spoke, "And then we'll live the life that we want to live."

His optimism was wounding.

Rhys was never going to stop, you knew him well enough to know that once he wanted something he would never halt his efforts to claim it.

After hours of serene chatter, you kissed Eris and told him to rest. As the firelight flickered to lifeless ash, when you knew that Eris was sound asleep and dreaming of you, you slipped from the bed.

Elain stood before the oven with a faint smile on her lips, excited to prod you with questions after what Lucien had so luckily found the night before.

Simmering sun poured through the windows, the storm had broke and the sun shone overhead, cascading her heavenly glow across the grass, caressing her animals as her light spread over Autumn. Birdsong chirped through the slightly ajar window, but Elain's smile had drifted, and her eyes had turned a milky white.

Night. Stars. Snow-capped mountains. A grey dress fit for a princess floating along the Sidra.

Gasping, Elain inhaled, she engulfed the air in her lungs, trying to locate you within it. But there was nothing there.

The shatter of the glass bowl in her hands was enough to cause both Nesta and Lucien to rush into the room, poised to attack, but faltering when they saw the wild look in Elain's eye, "Have you seen y/n? I had a vision."

"What vision, Elain?" Nesta approached Elain tentatively, her palms outstretched to connect with her sisters arms.

Elain gripped onto Nesta, "Of snow-capped mountains and a sky full of stars, of the dress she wore to Helion's party the day she denounced the Night Court drifting along the Sidra. I heard her crying."

Nesta snapped her gaze to Lucien, gasping when she saw Eris stood behind him, his gaze low and pulsating with fire as his chest rose and fell so fast that Nesta thought his heart would stop beating entirely. The room became hot, too hot, swelteringly so, and Eris brushed against Lucien as he approached the two Archeron sisters.

Placing his palms on the countertop, the same one where only hours before he was holding you and meeting your confessions with his own, Eris growled, low, and possessive, "Where is my mate?"

Author's Note

I am burning rn.

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #rhysand #cassian #azriel x you #eris imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #feyre x rhysand #rhys acotar #nesta #nesta archeron #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

#bg3 #bg3 smut #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #gale dekarios #gale smut #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale romance #my fic #gale's practiced tongue makes an appearance #'as mortals do' #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #my first attempt at actually POSTING smut instead of secreting it away in my google docs #so if i accidentally mess something up with the tags please tell me and i will fix it post haste #also on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there! may post the link in a reblog #nvm i added it to the post. forget what that last tag said

[yanderestarangel]

☆𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔 𝐱 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫☆

TW: Porn plot, smut, sex, just sex, power play, Cage is a DILF!, FTM reader, AFAB ANATOMY, vaginal sex, oral m!receives, degradation, sex without a condom, obsession, sugar daddy! relationship, sex in a semi public place, pet names, this was the dirtiest thing i ever wrote, my grammar, not proofread.

You looking for a sugar daddy to meet new people and also get out of your routine, so you set up a date with one of the site's subscribers, he insisted on sending you a place at the most expensive restaurant in town.

You soon go to the marked table, waiting for such sugar daddy, but soon you see Johnny Cage, father of your best friend, Cassandra Cage, going towards you with a bouquet of flowers and a light smile between his lips.

You were shocked, still processing everything, but Cage just sat at the table, just smiling with Hollywood actor charm and continued to look at the menu.

"-Have you chosen what you want my pretty angel?"

Cage spoke with the usual humor, and a smug smile on his face, wearing the expensive social clothes with the glasses of his own brand, he seemed not to care about you being best friends with his daughter.

Your initial shock wears off a bit, finally you get up the courage to answer him, sighing frustrated and a little scared, you finally speak, trying to explain that it wasn't your intention, that you didn't know it was him in the profile However, Johnny Cage he just laughed, his deep chuckle echoing through the restaurant. He takes off his sunglasses, revealing his piercing, almond-shaped eyes as he stares at you.

"-Don't worry, darling, it's part of my charm to surprise people. Besides, you're here now so we might as well enjoy the night together, right?" -Cage speaks as he leans back in his chair, his muscular body filling out the expensive suit, exuding confidence and dominance.

Cage smiles as he sips his champagne, his gaze never leaving you.

"-Tell me, my pretty thing, what made you venture into the world of sugar daddies? Looking to experience the finer things in life, aren't you?" -He raises an eyebrow, his voice full of amusement. As he talks, you notice his hands, large and veiny, resting casually on the table, They seem too big and strong for his refined personality, causing emotion mixed with apprehension.

You explain your motives for being on the site as you felt Johnny advance the low, intimate caresses to your hands, spread out on the restaurant table.

"-See, I noticed you too, (Y/N), I realized how beautiful you are. And I must admit, I felt a great desire for your company... I fantasized about the way your body responds to my touch, your moans and sighs as you submit to my wishes." -Cage smugs as he leans back, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"-So, my dear boy, how about we forget the embarrassment and enjoy this night together? Allow me to show you how much pleasure I can give you." -Johnny speaks in a voice that exudes confidence and dominance, his eyes gleaming with a possessive, dark hunger.

You look a little hesitantly at Johnny, but then sigh, you nod silently in agreement, watching the older man smile as he adjusts his sunglasses, quickly asking for the restaurant bill and fixing his expensive royal blue suit, leading you outside. from the restaurant.

He opens the car door for you, his touch lingering on your shoulders a moment longer than necessary, helping you into the car, before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side. As the car starts, Cage's hand reaches for the gearshift, his fingers brushing it intentionally.

The engine comes to life, filling the car with a low rumble.

"-We're going to my private penthouse. Somewhere quiet, where we can get to know each other better." -Cage speaks with a more intimate touch while driving the car quickly, squeezing the steering wheels and making you notice even more the veiny hands with an expensive watch on the man's wrist.

The journey isn't long, but the air seems thick with tension as you approach the luxurious building, he parks the car in the underground garage, before taking you to the private elevator, the elevator descends a little, stopping at the top floor, you soon follows Cage, watching the movie star walk briskly to one of the stores for his own luxury brand "Cage's Suit" Johnny's own expensive suit shop, You get a little confused looking at Cage but he soon walks into the store with you following him.

Luxurious suits line the shelves, each exquisite in design and workmanship. He gestures grandly at the screens.

"-My sweet, I want you to have the best outfit to accompany me tonight. Consider it a small gift, a sign of my admiration for you and our commitment as Sugar baby and Sugar daddy, don't worry about Cass now, yes ? Just choose what you want, my dear. I want you to feel confident and beautiful in my presence." -Johnny speaks as he approaches you, his hand resting on your lower back, the possessive touch sending shivers down your spine.

As you look around the store, you notice that the salespeople are discreetly watching the two of you, their eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. the fame of Johnny Cage the Percege, no matter the location and he loves it like a good cocky actor with a high ego, now he had a beautiful boy by his side, you&lt;3

Your Sugar Daddy!Johnny Cage recommends you one of the suits after a few minutes looking at the shelves, one of the most expensive in the store, while you protested a little with the high price feeling shy for him spending a small fortune on you, but Cage just smiles and pushes you lovingly in the dressing room as you quickly changed.

Cage watches you emerge from behind the curtain, dressed in the suit he recommended. His gaze intensifies as he takes in every detail, from the way the fabric molds to your curves to the way you look so effortlessly attractive.

"-Oh my dear (Y/N) you look absolutely stunning... The suit suits you perfectly, accentuating your body in all the right places, now let me prove what your pretty mouth can do yes?" -Cage spoke with a voice overflowing with praise and sexual hunger as he approaches you, his hands running over your body, sending electric shocks through your skin, while smiling like a predator playing with prey.

Johnny takes his hard cock out of his pants, while looking at you with dominance and desire, making you immediately kneel down as you watch Cage's big thick cock gleaming, the painful pink tip dripping a little lube nail, he strokes himself slowly, savoring your submission and the beautiful image of you handsome in a suit ready to suck his cock with, needy moaning, before you even touch him.

"-That's it, my sweet boy, show me how eager you are to please me... Take me in your mouth, wrap those pretty lips around my cock." As you lean forward, his hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer to his throbbing cock.

The scent of his arousal fills the air as you absorb it, savoring the taste of it on your tongue. Cage's grip on your hair tightens slightly, a silent command for you to pick up the pace.

He guides your movements, his hips thrusting gently as he seeks pleasure deeper in your throat.

"-What a good cocksucker, (Y/N). You are making Daddy so proud. Go on, watch every inch of my dick go in, show me how well you can handle me." -Cage moans deeply, his pleasure evident as he watches you greedily devour his cock.

He revels in the feel of your warm, wet mouth around him, your desire to please him making him want to come soon, but he holds on, wanting to experience every inch of your delicious mouth.

"-Such a good little cocksucker, (Y/N), you're making Daddy so proud... Keep going, take every inch, show me how well you can handle me." As you continue to suck him, your moans and sighs mix with his, the sounds of pleasure filling the small enclosed space. The intensity increases.

"-Oh, fuck (Y/N), such a filthy, naughty boy, taking my cock so well, you were made to please me, weren't you? You're my little slut, my personal plaything... Fucking hell, your mouth feels incredible, you're such a good little slut, taking my cock like this."

"-Keep going, my pretty boy, show me how much you fucking want... I'm going to come soon, and you're going to swallow every drop, aren't you? Tell me (Y/N), tell me you he wants." -Cage speaks with a tense voice of pleasure, with a final thrust, he reaches the climax, his hot semen filling his mouth.

He moans loud and hoarse as he empties into your throat, the hot, sticky liquid running down your mouth.

You two leave the suit shop quickly, while Johnny paid for your suit with his black card and a smug smile, all the vendors looked embarrassed by the sounds you two made in the locker room, but didn't say anything, after all, the older man he owned everything there, and it wasn't good to cross his own boss.

Cage takes you into the luxurious Hollywood mansion, with a firm but gentle grip as he guides you up the stairs.

The opulence of the surroundings overwhelms your senses, showing off your extravagant taste and wealth. The mirrored walls reflect their figures, adding an element of intrigue and sensuality to the room. Inside the Presidential Suite, the marble floor feels cool under your feet as you take in the grandeur of the room.

Your eyes are drawn to the large jacuzzi tub, whose inviting bubbles promise relaxation, Cage, standing before you in his discarded clothes, radiates pure desire. His muscular physique and erect cock leave no doubt about his intentions.

“-Welcome baby” -Johnny purrs with malice evident between clenched white teeth, he moves closer, his hands grazing over your body, sending a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch.

"-But first, I want to see you, my sweet boy. Take off your clothes, let me feast my eyes on your beauty" He ordered you with dominance as he looked at you with his pulsating cock and needy, you take off your suit with tenderness and submissiveness to your best friend's father, you felt guilty deep down, but nothing mattered now, nothing but Cage and you. He looks down at your body, admiring everything slowly, devouring you like a hot and delicious meal, hovering his height over you, making him even more horny and hungry to fuck you soon.

"-You are a work of art, my dear boy. A masterpiece made to be admired and adored."

With a sudden rush of possessiveness, Cage presses you against the mirrored wall, his body pinning you in place. His lips crash against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss, his hands roaming your body with a sense of urgency, he soon pulls away from you, a thin little trickle of saliva connecting both lips as he looks you straight in the eye practically reading your soul.

"-Get ready, my darling, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to think about anything but my dick buried in you." -Johnny Cage speaks with a voice needy but still extremely dominant, he easily lifts you in his lap and carries you towards the jacuzzi.

The heat of the water envelops their bodies as he settles in, his hands still cupping her ass firmly, delivering a firm slap that sends a sharp stab of pleasure through your body.

Even with sexual experience and prowess, Cage struggles to penetrate your tight pussy, eliciting a grunt of frustration from him, but the difficulty only intensifies his desire, his determination to possess you completely.

Taking a deep breath, he presses his hips against yours, pushing his cock slowly into your slick entrance. The grip of your pussy tightens around him, causing a mixture of pleasure and discomfort to wash over you both.

"-Damn it, (Y/N)... You're so tight. I've never felt anything like it... So I won't last much longer.." -Cage groans, smiling slightly, his voice with a hint of mixed pleasure and frustration when he finally feels fully enveloped inside you.

"-You will scream my name and everyone will know who you belong to." -He speaks as he continues to invest in you, overcoming the tremors of his release, determined to take you to the limit too, his hand moves to your clit, deftly massaging the sensitive bundle of overstimulated nerves with dexterity.

"-Come for me, my good boy, show me how much you want it, how good I make you feel" -His grip tightens on your waist as he continues to fuck you with vigor and intensity, his cock penetrating deep in its smooth, tight walls, now coated with its own release.

"-Do you feel like you belong to me? How do I control every damn move? You're mine, and I won't let you forget that..." -Johnny speaks tensely with pleasure as he smiles cocky at you, continuing the attack with his fingers and cock in your needy and wet pussy.

"-So tight, so perfect for me. I'm going to fuck you senseless, claim every inch of you." And as the pleasure washes over you, your body shudders at the climax. You let out a loud cry of ecstasy, your orgasm crashing over you with a force you've never felt before.

Cage continues to thrust into you, prolonging the pleasure, until he finds his own release once more, thick ropes of cum filling your pussy as you both moan loudly through the mirrored room, echoing off the walls.

Breathing heavily, the older man's sweat-dampened body pressed against his, Cage looks at you with one of satisfaction and obsession, giving you a chaste, lingering kiss on the forehead, while whispering praise, whispering in your ear.

"-I'm not done with you yet baby, there's much more pleasure I've planned for us, come on, ride me, show me how desperate you are for my cock." He positions himself on the edge of the jacuzzi, his throbbing cock protruding from his body. His gaze never leaves your as you approach, your pussy still full of his semen.

Without hesitation, you mount him, lowering yourself to his rigid length. A moan escapes you both as he fills you completely, the tightness and heat of your pussy enveloping him in pleasure. As you begin to move, the rhythm and intensity building with each movement, Cage's hands grip your hips firmly, guiding and controlling your rhythm. His eyes bored into yours, the intensity of his desire evident.

"-Fuck little boy...you look so sexy on top of me, Riding my dick like a good boy."

"-That's right, my little cock-hungry boy."

"-You can't resist me... can't resist the power of my cock. You were made to be fucked by me, to satisfy my every desire."

"-Show me how much you want me, how much you need my cock inside you." -Cage's grip on your hips tightens as you ride him with increasing fervor, each thrust pushing you further into an inferno of pleasure.

He groans at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing his thick cock, the knowledge that he's fucking you without a condom bringing him to the brink of ecstasy.

"-You take me so well, my sweet little bitch. Your pussy feels so good around my cock, so tight and wet, you were made for me."

"-Do you want more? Do you want me to fuck you like the dirty little bitch you are? It's okay babyboy... Daddy will give you exactly what you need."-Cage says while watching you with hungry eyes as you jump on top of him riding with need on his cock, his hands grip your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he quickens his pace, the visual heightening his desire even more as his see your reflection in the mirrors of the private room, he delights in the way you squeeze your pussy tighter around him, enjoying every inch of his thick cock as your pussy smeared his crotch and ripped abdomen.

The intensity of his thrusts builds one last time, and with a guttural roar, your body tenses as he releases a wave of hot cum inside you, claiming you completely.

The feel of him emptying into your tight, pulsing walls pushes you over the edge once more, and your own orgasm rips through you in a powerful release, Cage kisses you passionately, trembling with weariness and desire as he praises you again, but there's something darker there, something that hadn't yet come to the surface, he had managed to get you after years of waiting, after all... Johnny Cage always wins.

#yanderestarangel #mortal kombat #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk x reader #yandere male #dark smut #dark concept #yandere themes #smut #smut fic #ftm reader #male reader #mk x ftm reader #mortal kombat x ftm reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #yandere concept #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage mk #johnny cage mk 1 x reader #johnny cage x trans reader #johnny cage smut #afab reader #mk imagine #yandere mk

[emjayewrites]

Paddock Princess (Lewis Hamilton/Monegasque Heiress!OC)(1/10)

SUMMARY: Before they were an item, they were enemies....

BASED ON: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Monegasque Heiress!OC Princess Diallo (faceclaim is Fanny Bourdette-Donon)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1 @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout

A/N: Slight change, I have pre-testing for the 2022 season in Bahrain, not Barcelona. Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore [Please comment & reblog]

Chapter I: Fuck You & Your Team

The golden Bahraini sunset cast a warm, radiant glow over the Bahrain International Circuit as dry desert winds carried the intoxicating scents of burnt rubber and adrenaline-fueled dreams. Pre-season testing was in full swing, ushering in the start of the exhilarating 2022 Formula 1 season with a symphony of roaring engines and that undeniable thrill of new beginnings.

The sleek, powerful racecars sat lined up in a perfect zig-zag formation on the tarmac, their steel bodies gleaming under the sun as if posing for a photoshoot. The aerodynamic curves and immaculate finishes silently awaited the skilled drivers who would soon bring them roaring back to life.

Leaning against the pit wall with an aura of casual confidence was Princess Diallo, resplendent in a tailored jumpsuit that clung to her curvaceous frame. Her coily tresses were tamed into a sleek ponytail as she surveyed the paddock through eyes that glinted with both mischief and smoldering intensity.

Princess's piercing gaze roamed over the scene before her, briefly pausing to study the photographer arranging the drivers next to their cars for a promotional shoot. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at her full lips as she spotted the unmistakable figure of Lewis Hamilton, the celebrated British racing phenom.

Lewis strolled around the lined up cars, hands tucked behind his back as he studied each model, assessing the sleek new designs and mechanical upgrades with a discerning eye. Though his gaze was concealed behind mirrored sunglasses, Princess could sense his laser-sharp focus. His powerful presence commanded attention, an unmistakable aura of raw confidence and quiet strength.

As Lewis neared where Princess stood, she couldn't help but appreciate his striking appearance - the chiseled angles of his jawline, the lean musculature of his race suit-clad frame, the tall and powerfully built physique. An appreciative warmth bloomed low in her belly as her eyes raked over him.

"Princess," Lewis purred in greeting, her name rolling off his tongue like curling smoke. There was an edge of playful familiarity in his tone, coupled with the barest hint of challenge that she found utterly enthralling.

"Lewis," she replied, pitching her melodious voice into a tone of easy nonchalance despite the way her pulse kicked up a notch. Her Monégasque accent caressed the syllables as she met his veiled stare head-on.

The fiercely independent heiress whose presence at the circuit was as commanding as the cars themselves and Lewis couldn't help but take her in - round cheeks adorned with adorable dimples and almond-shaped brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. Her body was a work of art, smooth and flawless in its terracotta complexion, accentuated with curves that could make any man weak in the knees.

The winter hiatus had done little to diffuse the sparks between them. If anything, the memory of their last heated encounter at the FIA Prize-Giving Gala only stoked the flames of their exhilarating rivalry. He had mistakenly flirted with her, and she had projected her anger at him, still upset about her father's recent meddling. The evening took a sharp turn when her father, who had just secured a major stake in the Alpine F1 team as well as half-ownership of luxury watchmaker IWC, introduced them later that night. What was once a dazzling event now left a bitter taste in her mouth, serving as a constant reminder of the divide between them that felt insurmountable.

The air seemed to crackle with an electric charge as Lewis closed the distance between them. Though his physical proximity should have put her on edge, Princess found herself drawn to him, a moth to the flame. She couldn't help being acutely aware of the IWC watch adorning his wrist - a reminder of her father's increasingly intersecting business interests with Lewis' own endorsements. It made their encounter feel all the more charged, weighted with professional consequences in addition to their personal rivalry.

"I see your father is making good on his investment," commented Lewis as he gestured to Alpine's car behind him.  

Princess lifted her chin defiantly. "My father's money may have bought Alpine a fancy new car, but it still doesn't buy success on the track."

A sardonic smirk curved Lewis's lips as he slowly lowered his sunglasses, pinning Princess with a smoldering look from under the shadowed brim. "So the new engineer Alpine hired is the real star of the show, is that it?"

Lewis knew exactly which buttons to push to rile her up - that was his speciality after all, this delicious game of provocation and one-upmanship.

"Maybe," she countered silkily.

His gaze slowly raked over her jumpsuit-clad figure in a subtle once-over. "Let me guess...Gucci?"

"Chloe, actually." Princess felt a smug satisfaction that he didn't recognize the label. "I thought you were supposed to be a fashion icon?"

Leaning in until his smoldering whiskey-brown eyes filled her vision, Lewis chuckled deep in his throat - a low, thrilling sound. "Among other things. Though I suppose it's only fair that you try to keep up with me in some areas."

The arrogant comment immediately deflated Princess' brief sense of superiority, causing her to scoff loudly. "You did not just imply I need to keep up with you. If anything, you should be watching your back."

"Should I?" Lewis's voice dropped to a low, provocative rumble that sent sparks of heated awareness ricocheting through Princess's body. He took one deliberate step closer, firmly invading her personal space. "Because you know how I live for a challenge, Princess."

The combination of his darkly teasing words and sudden, overwhelming proximity made Princess's pulse kick up despite her best efforts. She could feel the scorching heat of his body mere inches from her own, the heady masculine scent of his skin surrounding her in a dizzying cloud. Rallying her composure, Princess tilted her chin and met his molten stare head-on, refusing to be flustered.

"Believe me, Lewis," she murmured, allowing just a hint of breathiness to color her tone. "Keeping you on your toes this season is just the start." Princess willed herself not to look away first from the simmering promise in those rich whiskey depths. She could drown in the banked embers of desire burning there if she wasn't careful. "By the time we're through, we plan to utterly decimate you and Mercedes."

A ghost of an infuriatingly smug smile curved Lewis's sensual lips at her bold declaration. "So Alpine thinks they finally have what it takes to run with the big dogs this year, huh?" He feigned an exaggerated look of surprise that made Princess's teeth grit together. "Those are some awfully big words for someone of your..." His eyes flickered overtly down to her petite frame, "...stature."

Arching one sculpted brow, she returned his mockery with pointed relish.

"Funny, that's rich coming from you...little man," she quipped, allowing her own stare to roam meaningfully over his 5'9" height in a shameless head-to-toe examination.

Lewis' dark eyes glittered with something that looked perilously close to respect? Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part. Still, she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch, as if fighting a smile.

Princess smirked inwardly - she was already getting under his skin.

He wet his lips slowly, his tongue darting out to moisten them as he continued to hold Princess' smoldering gaze. "I'm going to hold you to that, Princess," he murmured in a bedroom voice that had her stomach doing somersaults. "And when you fail to live up to that pretty trash talk...well, let's just say I'll enjoy making you eat those words. I like to do all the talking on the track."

"Alright everyone, let’s line up!" called the photographer, breaking the spell between Lewis and Princess. Lewis gave her a wink before stepping away to join the other drivers, and Princess couldn't tear her eyes away from his retreating form. His parting words echoed in her mind, simultaneously taunting and tantalizing. 

Just who did he think he was, looking at her like that? Talking to her like that? As if she were the kind of woman who would swoon at a few heated glances and a bedroom voice?

Except part of her had swooned,even just a little. Against her better judgment, she found Lewis utterly magnetic when he dialed up the charm offensive. Those molten eyes, that self-assured swagger, the intoxicating mix of arrogance. 

It was maddening, really, how effortlessly he could get under her skin. Just minutes ago, she'd been ready to claw his eyes out after that short jab. Princess shook her head minutely, appalled at herself. This heated rivalry with Lewis was proving to be more dangerous than she'd anticipated because she was uncomfortably attracted to her own nemesis.

But two could play at the game of casual flirtation and thinly veiled double entendres. Lewis may have issued the opening salvo, but Princess was never one to back down from a challenge.

Lewis' thoughts consumed him as he posed for pictures with his fellow drivers. He should’ve seen it coming, really. Their chemistry had been crackling with unresolved tension from the moment they laid eyes on each other again. Like a live wire, just waiting to detonate with the slightest provocation. 

And Princess had well and truly provoked him.

Running a hand through his braids, Lewis exhaled a shaky breath. Who names their kid "Princess" and doesn't expect them to grow up to be an entitled arrogant brat? Certainly, her attitude and bold flirtations lived up to that pretentious moniker.

And yet, Lewis couldn't deny the thrilling attraction simmering within him. He prided himself on keeping his cool, on never allowing an attractive woman to rattle his composure so thoroughly, but Princess, she was operating on another level entirely.

Part of him recognized how utterly infuriating her behavior was - the sense of superiority, that practiced smile filled with blatant provocation. She didn't just get under his skin - she burrowed her way straight into his bloodstream, setting him alight in a way he hadn't experienced in years, maybe ever.

Who would’ve thought that a lil’ heiress would drive up this much drama? 

The thrill of their rivalry felt wildly intoxicating, like chasing a contact high more addictive than any podium finish, but it was also incredibly dangerous territory.

He knew he had to tread carefully — Princess's father signed his checks as an ambassador for IWC watches, which meant playing fair with her was a non-negotiable, yet he could tell it would be a difficult tightrope to walk. Allowing himself to be drawn into Princess' games based on their little rivalry and a simple physical attraction could prove disastrous for his focus and drive this season.

Lewis had been looking forward to this Formula 1 season as a chance to reaffirm his greatness on the track. Now, he realized the real challenge - the one that would test the limits of his self-control and dedication - would be going head-to-head with the force of nature that was Princess Diallo.

He should leave her alone, focus all his energy on racing and tuning out the dizzying spiral of desire and competition she drew him into. Staying the course, keeping his eye on the prize of another championship, however, even as the logical side of his brain reasoned this out, Lewis knew it was already too late. Princess had gotten her claws into him, and as much as he tried to ignore her, he was powerless to resist rising to her delicious bait.  

A slow, lopsided grin curved his lips as he straightened his posture. If Princess wanted to play, he was game. 

After all, he thought with a mixture of trepidation and dark excitement, what was a lil’ game between rivals?

The gloves were off this season, in more ways than one. Lewis fully intended to give as good as he got from Princess - both on and off the track. 

So, she wanted to up the ante? Challenge accepted.

The Bahrain Grand Prix paddock was a whirlwind of activity as the 2022 Formula One season officially kicked off. Mechanics hustled about making final adjustments, while drivers went through their pre-race rituals amid a cacophony of roaring engines and the excited murmurs of fans.

Lewis strode through the chaos, doing his best to retain his laser focus. He couldn't afford any distractions, any chinks in his renowned concentration.

Of course, the universe seemed determined to test his resolve in that regard. Because loitering by his team's garage, clad in artfully distressed denim and a slinky pink top that left little to the imagination, was his new personal siren, Princess.

Lewis took a deep breath, pushing any thoughts of Princess out of his mind and focusing on the race ahead. But as he approached the garage, she strolled over to him with a deliberate sway of her hips that almost made his heart skip a beat.

"G'morning," she purred as she got closer, openly ogling him with appreciation. "Ready for another exciting season?"

Lewis felt an unwelcome surge of attraction at her tone and the intense desire in her eyes. He couldn't decide whether to shut her down or pull her close and —

No.

He cut off that dangerous train of thought, squaring his shoulders.

"You're really testing the limits of that 'umbrella girl' role your father gave you, aren't you?" he said dryly, attempting to keep his voice steady.

Princess' ruby-red lips didn't twist into a contrite expression. Instead, they curved into a slow, wicked smile. She spoke in a low tone, her voice dropping an octave as she said, "Surely you have better jokes than the tired ‘poor little rich girl’ bit?" She raised an eyebrow and added, "And really...is this what I should expect from someone of your age? Old jokes for old men?"

Lewis arched an eyebrow, refusing to let her baiting get the best of him, as he willed his gaze not to drop below her clavicle. This little game she was playing, it was extremely unhelpful mere minutes before he needed to be 100% focused.

"What I think," he replied carefully, reining in his impulse to either silence her with his lips or snap a scathing retort, "is that you need to find someplace else to be well before the race starts."

"Oh, really?" Princess arched one sculpted brow, undeterred. "I'll be wherever I want to be," she said confidently. "And right now, I want to be here."

"I don't think you understand," he said, his tone hardening. "This is my career, my livelihood. And I don't have time right now to play your games. "

Princess tilted her head back, laughing lightly. "Oh Lewis, don't be so dramatic," she teased. "I'm just here to enjoy the race like everyone else. Can't a girl have a good time? Besides, I could’ve sworn that you promised to have me 'eat my words' yesterday? Trouble in paradise with you and Merc? Are you afraid that my team will one-up you for the Constructors' Championship?"

"Don’t get ahead of yourself now," Lewis said with an eye roll. "When the day comes of Alpine ever exceeding me and my team for a Constructors’ Championship is the day I retire."

"You promise?"

"Hell no," Lewis replied with a teasing smile. "I still have a few more racing years left."

Princess scoffed, crossing her arms. "You're just scared that Alpine has a chance this year," she said proudly.

Lewis couldn't resist the opportunity to prove her wrong. He leaned in close, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, "I promise you, Alpine will never be a threat to us."

Princess shivered at his words, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin. Her heart fluttered in response and she pushed away from him, trying to hide her reaction.

"You can't make promises like that," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I can and I will," Lewis replied confidently.

Princess bit her lip, torn between wanting to continue their verbal sparring and fleeing from the confusing feelings Lewis stirred inside her. Before she could make a decision, there was a loud announcement over the loudspeaker for all non-essential personnel to clear the track before the race began.

"Well," Princess said with a forced smile, "looks like we'll have to continue this conversation after we kick your team's ass on the track. I do love watching a grown man struggle..."

Lewis shook his head with an amused smile. "You really are relentless, aren’t you?"

"It’s a quality my father always admired." Turning on her heel, she tossed one last heated look over her shoulder, "Good luck, I guess."

"Good luck to you too," Lewis murmured to himself as he watched as she sauntered away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly as she disappeared into the crowd. He couldn't understand why this woman affected him so much, but he needed to focus on the race, not get caught up in some petty competition with her.

He could not let some spoiled rich girl shake his concentration, especially not during this season.

But fuck, did she have to move her hips like that? Wear that small-ass shirt?

Now instead of being focused on the race, he was more inclined to be buried deep between her legs.

This fuckin' lil' heiress, man, will be the death of me.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#paddock princess #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x oc

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍.

DAY FOUR OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

pairing: ai-enhanced!miguel o’hara x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, sci-fi, enemies to lovers

summary: there are codeborns and codebreakers. In this world ruled by ai and the people who want to keep it that way, codebreakers fight for freedom while the feared codeborns (ai-enchanced humans) do everything to keep the so-called 'peace'. You are one of the codebreakers, hunted by one of the most menacing codeborn yet, miguel o'hara.

word count: 3k

warnings: hunter/prey, chase kink, size kink, power imbalance, fear kink, dancing on the line of dubcon due to the power imbalance, but reader very much wants miguel, hate sex, piv, possessive!miguel, biting (it has a slight aphrodisiac effect because why not), some blood, dystopian, bondage with mechanical arms, double penetration thanks to said mechanical arms, dirty talk, degradation kink if you squint,

a/n: i don't know with this is, it kinda sorta happened and, honestly, i don't hate it.

In a city perpetually cloaked in gray, oppression is an unrelenting weight. Surveillance cameras leer from every corner, tracking your steps and every muttered word.

This city used to thrive, alive with energy. Now, it's stifled by a regime that rules with an iron fist. Holographic banners hang in the air, projecting sanitized slogans that mask the truth. Rain splashes onto pixelated cobblestones, the wet ground echoing the neon lights into your eyes. 

Heart pounding, you dart through the alleyways, every step echoing. You hear them chasing you, the CodeBorns, they were the AI-enhanced sentinels of this world. Their purpose; bring order to the intricate dark web of the city. You scoff as you run, what a load of bullshit. The sentinels are nothing more than mindless robots that have a barely working human heart—and brain—for that matter. 

Very fittingly, you’re part of a group called CodeBreakers, a group of dedicated people trying to dismantle the regime and censorship. You just recently hacked into the cinema, which might seem not like a big deal, but you just had to save those poor people from watching the same damn thing over and over again. 

Making people watch something else that wasn’t handpicked by the goverment might’ve not been a big deal, but breaking into the system certainly was, and something not everyone could do. 

“Shit,” you hiss, accidentally tripping over a loose cobblestone. “Shit shit shit—” 

The worst thing about the CodeBorns is the fact that they can do a lot that regular folk like you can’t. For example, they’re all ridiculously fast, they can see in the dark, they can hear exceptionally well, they have superhuman strength—

You hear a wall shattering behind you and heavy steps grow closer, you’re relieved when you realize it’s only one set of steps, but as you realize who those steps probably belong to, your chest caves. 

Fucking, Miguel O’Hara. 

You hear the familiar creak of mechanical limbs and the familiar sound of your name falling from his lips. Another thing about the AI-enhanced sentinels, they have body upgrades they can take off whenever they want to. 

“You can’t unrun me!” he roars. “You know you can’t!”

He’s right, you can’t run a beast of a man like him. 

You need to be smarter. 

Ducking into another alleyway, you thank whatever god is left in this world overrun by technology for the web of light the neon signs provide. You quickly spot a string of utility boxes, It’s dangerous, but you manage to squeeze yourself between them and the hard stone wall. Heat radiates from the boxes. If Miguel doesn’t lose track of you soon, the damn thing might heat up enough to burn you. 

The clatter of mechanical limbs echoes closer.

And then you see him. 

The neon light reflects off his holographic suit, its dynamic red details reminiscent of flickering pixels. He's a towering figure. Spider-like limbs protrude from his back, their gleaming metal glistening with the moisture of the rain-soaked air. They move slightly as if looking around, trying to sense her. With panic, you hold your breath, the small hairs on the back of your neck standing with attention. 

His brow is slightly furrowed, something you recognize he does when he’s either angry or annoyed—or both.  His lips, however, curve into a faint, almost menacing smile, revealing a glimmer of satisfaction in this pursuit.

The alleyway seems to shrink around you as his steps grow nearer. Your pulse quickens, synchronized with the flickering lights around you. This isn’t your first run-in with Miguel, and you doubt it will be the last. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. The fear you feel poisons you, making your stomach churn and your mouth taste of death. He’s captured you before but never actually handed you in. 

Arousal rears its head among the fear, coating you in a sheer sweat. You can’t help it. It’s a Pavlovian response at this point, you see him and your body starts leaking like a damn faucet. Miguel had captured you twice, and in both of them, you ended up with his cock deep between your legs. 

You just never know with him. He never contacted you outside of this, never acted in a way that would indicate that something had happened between you two. 

All he gave you is this, the chase, the fear, the wondering if this might be the time he throws you in a needlessly futuristic cell—

"Here, you are. You tiny thing."

Shit. 

It’s comical really; the way you look up with wide eyes as his red ones peer down at you. His smirk is non-existent, yet you can still feel his satisfaction in finding you. Your chest heaves painfully, you can move, struck with uncharacteristic fear. He might not be an animal you get the sense that he smells the horror sticking to your skin. 

You’re about to make a run for it when the mechanical arm’s sinewy grace coils around your ankles. Miguel pulls you out of your hiding place. All the blood rushes to your face as you hang upside down. 

“Dammit, Miguel!” you hiss. “Put me down!” 

He raises a sole brow elegantly, his eyes moving up and down your body, his gaze almost predatory. “Rather bold for a criminal,” he answers, voice nonchalant. The limbs tighten around your ankles, just a shy away from being painful. The arm draws you nearer, your breath mingling with his in the dewy air. “I’m starting to think you enjoy getting caught.” 

“Does it look like I have a death wish?” you ask. His lips twitch and you quickly add. “You know what, never mind, don’t answer that.” 

“What if it was one of the others who found you first? Were you going to spread your legs for them too? ” he snarls. “Is that how you’ve been getting away from hacking our systems for this long?” 

This time when the limb squeezes harder around your flesh and bone, you scream. The sound is drowned by the constant buzz of the world. “I should just take you in,” he murmurs. “Be less trouble.” 

Due to the blood gathering in your skull, you might be imagining things but you swear you saw a hint of actual worry instead of anger in those crimson eyes. But that shouldn’t be possible. Codeborns didn’t feel; sure they felt anger, but they were programmed sentinels made not to care about anyone who went into their criminal system. 

“Careful, your emotion is showing.” 

Maybe you do have a death wish, after all. 

“Bitch.” 

His sudden anger chokes the air from out of your lungs. You’re suffocated. The limb around you suddenly scorching hot, his eyes redder than normal, bright enough to match the neon raining from above. He bares his teeth at you, sharp and venomous, when he wants them to be. Miguel leans further into your personal space, his scowl deep—you begin to shake all over, your heart begging for your body to move away but you can’t. All you fear and think is fear. 

Arousal sneaks between the sinews of emotions. You taste it on your tongue, the scent of it searing as you take quick, sharp breaths. 

Miguel’s nose brushes the tender skin right under your ear, the sound of his inhale deafening “Afraid?” he rolls his tongue, his voice nothing but gravel. Before you can answer, a chuckle halts your tongue. His breath dans over your damp skin, goosebumps rising across your skin. “Or aroused? Or perhaps both?” 

You say nothing and it’s not for a lack of trying. You’re stunned into it, your tongue feeling limp and big in your mouth. The sharp edges of his teeth nip at your upside-down cheek, and despite yourself, a whimper escapes. 

“No seas tímida ahora. Where’s all that bite from before? Cat got your tongue?” you joly at the sudden feel of his warm tongue, your nipples hardening under the fabric of your shirt. “Beg for it.” again, a darkness curls around each and every word. 

This situation shouldn’t be getting you this hot and bothered. The want between your legs pulses so bad that it hurts. 

“P—Please, Miguel,” you say barely above a whisper. “I. . . I want it.” 

“Want what?” 

Fucking asshole. “Your cock. I want. . . you to fuck me.” 

His smile does nothing to quell the fear, “Good girl,” he rasps, the words echoing in your ear. 

The rest happens in a blur. 

Suddenly you’re not hovering upside down anymore, instead, you’re shoved up against the hard, cold surface of a wall, your pants being lowered for you. Now it’s your wrists that are bound and pinned above your head, your legs spread from the ankles thanks to the mechanical arms. Miguel’s large presence looms right behind you, his clothed cock flush between the crevice of your ass. 

“Let’s see how wet you are,” he coos, ripping your panties into two. You make a strangled sound of disapproval, but all he does is click his tongue. “Be grateful I didn’t shred your pants.” 

Grateful is the last thing you’re feeling as two fingers spread your folds, the middle one dipping between. Your body speaks for itself. Swiping his fingers up and down, he gatherers your slick around the digit and traces your entrance, pushing in. Your body jumps at the beach, pleasure licking the base of your spine. “So responsive,” he murmurs and you hear the familiar glitching sound of his suit. 

Then you feel the heft of his cock laying right above the curve of your ass, both his hands cradling your asscheeks. The limb around your wrists coils tighter. 

Miguel parts your cheeks, getting a better look. Your cheeks burn in response. The cool air hits your other hole and you hate the way your body clenches at the cold. His thumb traces the rim and a loud exhale of air rips from your lungs. Your legs start to shake, slick dripping down the insides of the tender flesh. 

“Gonna fuck this pretty asshole one day soon,” Miguel gloats. Experimentally,  he pushes his thumb forward, nearly knuckle deep until you start squirming. You’re dripping for him, your asshole fluttering around the digit. The mild pain only makes your pulse race. “Unfortunately for you, I can’t today.” 

You hear his smile in his voice. The smugness that is laced into his every sentence. Your breath hitches when he pulls out, a moment later the warmth of his finger is replaced with something cold and metal. 

You tense as you hear the machine whirring, the hardness of it is replaced with something rounder and softer. “M—Miguel. . . ?” 

His lips touch your ear, “Shhh, don’t worry about it, princesa, just a little something to keep you satisfied while I fuck your pretty little cunt.” 

The arm merely moves over your hole, a feather-like touch that warms your skin. When it gently prods at you, you arch your back instinctively, your ass moving up into the air. 

Miguel only chuckles, the sound dark and low, a faint slap is delivered to your ass. You yelp but he doesn’t say another word. 

He’s big. 

You have no idea if it’s just lucky genetics or due to the ai-enhancement but whatever it is; he’s well-endowed. 

He makes you feel every tantalizing inch as he pushes himself further into your cunt, your walls throbbing while adjusting to his width. Your jaw drops, mouth gaping. He presses deeper and deeper, every centimeter of your cunt claimed by him. Your knees buckle and for the first time, you’re grateful for the robotic tendrils holding you up. He growls into your neck, those same venomous fangs skimming the tenderness of your neck. You feel the sharp bite of his nails digging further into your hip. 

Towards the base, his cock thickens and your eyes roll back as he shoves the last of it deep inside you. Your breasts feel heavy, tingling with pleasure despite being untouched.

Miguel doesn’t wait, he pulls back his hips and snaps them forward. Your stomach clenches with a delightful shiver. While slamming into you, the arm that holds your wrists together starts to pull you back until your back forms the perfect art, a mild discomfort steaming at the base of your spine. The way he’s angling you above his cock coaxes sweet, load moans from you. If possible, he’s even deeper now, hitting that devastating spot you can’t seem to reach when you’re on your own. 

“You like being my little plaything?” he groans, kissing the sweaty skin between your neck and shoulder. You moan again when the rounded tip of the mechanical limb starts pushing into the tight ring. A fresh pulse of wetness soaks you and trickles down his length, leaving your body trembling. “Fuck,” thrust. “So,” thrust. “goddamn,”  thrust. “wet—” 

You attempt to say his name but all you manage is the pathetic repeat of the letter “m”. His lips curl cruelly and the tip of the arm forces itself deeper, fucking you with shallow thrusts. “Pathetic,” he spits. “You’re so fucked out that you can’t even say my name? You can’t help drooling around my cock, can’t you? This is why I think you enjoy getting caught, you tiny thing,” the hard edge of his voice softens as he drags his nose down your neck. “So pathetic.” 

When he nips at your neck for the nth time tonight, you bare yourself to him by tilting your head. You want it. Want him. You need to feel him tear into your flesh, you want to feel the sting of his bite for weeks. 

His movements slow on both ends. “It’ll hurt,” he warns. 

“I don’t care,” you choke out. “P-Please— I–I can’t—” 

You really can’t talk. Your cunt squeezes around him, begging for the hard pound of his hips. Miguel doesn’t make you say it twice. He sinks his teeth into the same pace he kissed not a moment ago, the pain is instant, the trickle of warm blood making you squeamish. He doesn’t suck, only bites, not that you ever thought he would be sucking your blood. You imagine it’s just something he enjoys doing, like a primal need. You feel the soft webs of psychedelic venom seep into your veins. Your body grows limp, your lids growing heavy, he resumes his thrust and the pleasure you feel is tenfold. 

“Oh god,” you gasp, slack-jawed. “Oh my fucking god—Miguel—” 

He pulls out his teeth, kissing the marks he made that were shiny with blood, “I know, I know,” he grinds his hips, the pleasure shooting up your spine like electricity. “The effects won’t last long.” 

His words go through one ear and out the other. However. Your body singing with pleasure and nothing else, the word around you fading into reds and pinks. 

Miguel snapped his hips hard into you, meanwhile, the limb resumed its thrusts, stretching you further with every stroke. Some part of you is reminding you that Miguel, as of right now, can see every part of you, your most intimate parts completely bare. But the soothing venom lurking in your veins whispers words of encouragement. You focus on being stretched further, your hips move in need to meet his thrusts, but having nothing to brace yourself against, you surrender and allow him to take you apart wholly. 

His grunts became louder, Miguel pushed deeper and deeper, both cocks thrusting into you at the same time. Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips. Your mind empties with slack-jawed bliss as both lengths repeatedly strike your sensitive spots, pounding you with pleasure. 

You let out a loud gasp when the limb pulls out of you suddenly and you’re left empty, Miguel’s arms wrap around you, hands sliding under your shirt to cup the heavy weight of your breasts. He presses flush against you, striking your ass, he fucks into you with short, deep thrusts. 

His fingers pinch at your hard nipples, slightly turning them, “Gonna fill you up,” he groans. “Gonna fuck myself deep inside of you so no one will dare touch you.” 

The possessive tone, the brutal pace of his thrusts, the large hands on your tits—all of it pushes you down the edge, your body going rigid before relaxing entirely. You gush around him, wet sounds echoing in the narrow alleyway as he fucks you through it, not slowing down in the slightest. 

However, you do feel the hold around your wrists recoiling along with the ones holding your ankles apart. Miguel holds you close as you fall loosely like a ragdoll, animalistic sounds are grunted into your ear, another burst of arousal awakening on your tongue. 

The tip of his tongue dances along the bite marks when he spills into you, his cock deep, just like he promised. 

There’s so much, you feel the heat of it spreading inside of you, some of it spilling around from where his cock stretches you wide. His hips twitch, his arms forcing down the grind of your hips. You let out a whimper, your head falling over his shoulder. 

The two of you remain like that until his cock begins to soften inside of you, Miguel slowly pulls out and lowers you to the ground so you can sit. He finds your pants and throws it towards your lap. 

Sadly for you, your brain registers none of that. The dumb muscle only starts working again when he stands tall in front of you, that same menacing stance returning. 

“Don’t let me catch you again,” he says, voice stern. He looks down at you as he stuffs his cock back in his pants. “If I do, I’ll have to lock you up. This was your last warning.” 

And with that, he leaves. 

A bitter laughter bubbles in your throat as the back of your head hits the hard surface of the wall. Rain begins to drizzle, the first tiny drops landing on your cheeks and sliding down to your neck. 

Among all the people you could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be him?

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara au #miguel o'hara smut #atsv fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[harleehazbinfics]

New Suit

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

A/N: @fandomfan-102 sent me this link and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Also, I think we're haven't gotten much crazy Cannibal Reader lately :) GOT DELAYED CUZ I WAS UPDATING THE TAGS HASASD

You and Alastor were attending a gala along with some powerful overlords. It was quite lively, and everyone got along together.

Well, almost everyone. You and Vox could be seen sharing a middle finger at each other with a snarl of your own. You had let yourself get distracted with taunting Vox while Rosie and Alastor were talking with each other.

"Looks like some little bitch's trying to test her luck at living today," Vox remarks looking past you and nods his box head to a woman sashaying her way towards Alastor.

He was clad in a new suit, that you very much adored on him. He was very handsome in whatever he wore. However, you freeze when you see him sporting long hair. It must have been Rosie's doing, seeing there wasn't much resistance to the idea. You swore you'd thank Rosie a million times when you could get the chance.

You then glared daggers at the woman who was heartily laughing by herself in front of Alastor who had an indifferent look on his face, and Rosie nowhere to be seen. Which made you place a frown on your painted lips.

When she tried to reach for him, no faster than the speed of light you had her under you clawing at her neck with a sadistic smile on your face.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you!~" you giggled all sickly sweet digging your nails deeper in her.

You face blackened while your eyes gleamed at her threateningly frightening her out of her wits, desperately trying to get away from you.

"Get away from me, you freak!" she chokes out then tries to scratch your face which you easily dodged.

You reeled your fist back and punched her dead on the face, and watch he hand fall limp. You covered in her blood, from your fist to your face that held an excited flushed face.

"Well, that's enough of that," you hear a familiar voice call behind you, as he plucks you off the ground and held you like a long cat.

"I'm more surprised we got this far until someone started a cat fight," Rosie notes before petting your head while you were held by Alastor.

"I think we're done for the night. Safe travels back, Rosie!" Alastor ends the conversation, before properly carrying you in his arms in a bridal hold and walking out.

"Did I do a good job, Sir?" ����

🔗Cannibal Chef! Reader TAGLIST:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @roboticsuccubus83, @atlas-rin, @yuriohoe04, @azullynxx, @milk-bulb, @rainynyy, @s2tng, @aria-tempest, @speedycoffeedelight, @0strawberrysorbet0, @amitiel-truth, @corvid007, @kaminarithebest, @enby-goblin

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #alastor x reader #hazbin vaggie #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #cannibal chef reader #cannibal reader #harleehazbinfic

[heartss4val]

MIDNIGHT RAIN

PAIRING — percy jackson x gn!reader SUMMARY— you. percy. a rainy night. what more could you ask for? WORD COUNT — 0.7k

THE SOUND OF RAIN hitting the pavement resonated throughout the deserted streets, but you and percy couldn't be bothered by the clamor. it was midnight, an ungodly hour for most, a time when most people would be sound asleep, yet here you were, wandering the empty streets with your beloved. it felt wrong to be out at this time, but then again, it felt so exhilarating.

initially, you were hesitant to let percy talk you into going out in the rain, but the idea of spending time with him was too tempting to resist. with no school the next day, the rain pouring down, and your boyfriend by your side, you felt like you were living in the moment.

percy's laughter filled the air as he led you along, urging you to follow him. his fingers were tightly interlaced with yours, his grip firm and reassuring, as if he were afraid you might disappear at any moment.

percy didn't care if zeus was probably throwing thunderbolts right now, he just loved the rain. he loved how the water droplets made him feel alive and rejuvenated, the way it cooled his skin and made him feel as if he belonged in the world. but most of all, he loved that he could share these moments with you.

"wait, where are we going?" you called after him, your laughter mingling with his.

"who said we were going anywhere in particular?" percy turned around to beam at you with a smile so radiant it could light up the night sky.

you smiled back at his spontaneity.

rain continued to pour down, instantly cooling your skin and dampening your clothes. this was probably the #1 way to get a cold, however, that would be tomorrow's problem. occasionally, cars raced by, splashing water up onto the sidewalks, but percy would simply become hydrophobic, shielding you from the water, and acting as your very own personal umbrella.

as you both approached a streetlight, a broad grin spread across percy's face, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed with an unspoken excitement. it was as if he knew something that you didn't, and the anticipation in his expression was infectious.

he looked at you so lovingly that it made your heart flutter. with a single glance, he had the power to make you feel like the most important person in the world. this pure and gentle boy, who smiled secretly at you, seemed to hold your heart in his hands. and you were perfectly okay with that.

before you could even ask him what he was up to, percy suddenly shook his head, sending water flying everywhere, including all over you. you almost shrieked in surprise, but with a small smile, you managed to hold back the sound. you followed suit, shaking your head and laughing as the water droplets flew around you.

you probably looked like weirdos. but neither of you cared, because both of you were happy.

eventually, your head started to ache from the constant movement, and you reach up to cup percy's face, bringing him to a stop as well. your other hand slides into his hair, messing it up even further as you both catch your breath. suddenly, percy lifts you up and twirls you around, causing another burst of laughter to escape your lips. he sets you down gently, and you both stand there, drenched and smiling from ear to ear.

"oh, you have no idea how happy you make me," percy says with a smile, his forehead resting against yours.

you raise an eyebrow. "even right now, like after we just did that?"

"especially right now," he replies, grinning. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." he thinks for a moment. "well, besides blue waffles, of course."

you chuckle at his comment, bringing him impossibly closer by the collar of his shirt. "well, actions speak louder than words, jackson," you tease.

and with that, you crash your lips onto his.

it's a brief but passionate moment that electrifies your senses, and you feel a thrill coursing through you that lingered even after you pulled away.

you knew it was a probably weird sight, two teenagers, seventeen and crazy, lost in the moment and oblivious to the world around them, but you didn't care. everything felt perfect in that moment, and you wouldn't have wanted it any other way. as you looked at each other, drenched in rain and laughing onto each other's lips, you knew that this was a moment that shouldn't have happened. but it did, and it felt just right.

a/n

my ass writing this on the sunniest most perfect day of september:

also pls tell me someone got the fahrenheit 451 "seventeen and crazy" reference at the end. 😭😭

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x y/n #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson fluff #pjo imagine #riordanverse x reader

[why4anne]

Money Power Glory

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Mafia! au

Part: 3/?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, fighting

Summary: When you accidentally found yourself in the middle of a mafia show down you had no idea that your life was about to change, forever. For better or for worse.

Masterlist

The earthy scent of basement was the first thing you noticed as you came to your senses. With your head pounding you opened your eyes. Thankfully the room was dim, the only light source being a floor lamp in the corner. You looked around, taking in your surroundings. The room was empty except for the chair you were tied, the lamp and some form of AC unit, the cold concrete walls and the lack of windows made you feel claustrophobic. Where the hell are you? 

Your heart raced as panic began to set in. Memories of being attacked on the street flooded back, and you struggled against the restraints binding you to the chair. The room felt suffocating, and the realization that you were trapped in an unknown location only fueled your fear.

You took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself. Panicking wouldn't help, and you needed to assess the situation. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a door on the far side of the room.

The sound of footsteps approached, echoing in the cold, damp space. The door creaked open, revealing a figure in the shadows. You strained to see who it was, but the dim lighting obscured their features.

A man with black hair and a suit walked into the room, followed by two other masked men, his bodyguards you assumed. “So this is Leclerc’s new plaything? Pity you chose the wrong man, you are a cute one” He snarled, grabbing your chin with his rough hand and looking you over with a condescending gaze.

You recoiled instinctively at his touch, the feeling of his rough hand on your skin sending a shiver down your spine. Fear pulsed through you as you struggled against the restraints, desperate to break free from the chair that held you captive.

"Who are you? What do you want?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk, his eyes glinting with malice. "You don't need to know my name, sweetheart. All you need to know is that you're in a world of trouble now."

He circled around you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the small room. "You see, Charles Leclerc made a big mistake by letting you go. He thought he could protect you from afar, but he underestimated me. And now, you're going to pay the price for his arrogance."

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. Charles had warned you that his world was dangerous, but you never imagined it would lead to this. Trapped in a basement with a man who clearly had ill intentions, you knew that you were in grave danger.

"What do you want from me?" you repeated, your voice more desperate this time.

The man leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to send a message to Leclerc. I want him to know that he can't just walk away from killing three of my best men. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn to use against him."

Panic surged through you as his words sank in. You were nothing more than a tool in this man's twisted game, a pawn to be sacrificed for his own agenda. But you refused to go down without a fight.

"Please, you don't have to do this. I’ve only met him three times, I’m not important." you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

The man's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Oh, but you are. Charles Leclerc has not shown any interest in anyone since he took over as the head of the family. Yet, for you, he not only actively sought you out. No, he offered you his protection, he offered you a place in his home. He has an obsession with you and I plan on using that to my advantage.” 

“What are you going to do to me?” Your throat dried up at the thought of what he may do to you in his sick need for revenge.

The man chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, darling, the possibilities are endless. But rest assured, it won't be pleasant for you."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you wracked your brain for a way out of this nightmare. But with your hands tied and surrounded by armed men, escape seemed impossible.

“Let’s see, I don’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours” He feigned puzzlement, rubbing his chin as if he was thinking. “Ah, I know, let’s see how you like the cold.” 

He motioned for his men to open the door before he walked over to the AC unit and turned it on. The air coming from it was freezing and you were suddenly aware of your lack of clothing you had on. All you were wearing were a pair of shorts and a tank top. 

“The temperature will continue to drop until you inevitably get hypothermia. I have a live feed sent to the Leclerc’s so don’t worry, he will have front seats for this” The man smirks cruelly before turning his back on you and walking out of the room with his men.

As the door creaked shut, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room, the reality of your dire situation set in. Shivering in the frigid air, you strained against the restraints, desperate to find a way to escape the impending torture.

The chilling air gnawed at your skin, causing goosebumps to rise, and your breath became visible in the icy atmosphere. The room felt like a prison, and the cruel intentions of the man who held you captive loomed over you like a dark cloud.

Your mind raced, searching for any possible escape plan. The chair was sturdy, but you wondered if you could somehow topple it over, using the impact to break free. With each futile attempt, the cold seeped into your bones, making your movements sluggish.

The seconds felt like hours as you fought against the numbing cold, the fear of hypothermia looming over you. Your thoughts darted back to Charles, wondering if he had received the live feed and if there was any chance he could intervene.

As the temperature continued to drop, your teeth chattered uncontrollably, and your body trembled. You couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could endure the bone-chilling cold. The pain in your extremities intensified, and you felt a growing sense of helplessness.

Hours passed and just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, the door creaked open again. The man returned, without his bodyguards this time. A sinister grin was plastered on his face as he observed your suffering. The fucker was wearing a heavy coat as well as a pair of gloves and a hat, as if to taunt you with the prospect of warm clothes.

"Having fun, sweetheart?" he taunted, reveling in your distress. "I hope you're enjoying the preview. Charles needs to learn that his actions have consequences."

You mustered whatever strength you had left to glare at him defiantly. "You're a monster," you spat, your words barely audible through the chattering of your teeth.

The man chuckled, seemingly amused by your defiance. "Monsters are subjective, my dear. I'm just playing the game, and you happen to be a pawn. Now, let's see how much longer you can endure this before begging for mercy."

You continued to endure the bone-chilling cold, your body trembling involuntarily. The room had become a frozen prison, and the man's sadistic amusement only fueled your determination to survive. 

The man circled you, his eyes glittering with malevolence. "You're a tough one, I'll give you that," he remarked, his gloved fingers tracing a pattern on the back of the chair. "But toughness can only get you so far in my world."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to show any signs of weakness. The pain in your extremities had become unbearable, and the cold seemed to seep into your very core. Desperation clawed at your mind as you tried to devise a plan to escape this frozen hell.

Just as you thought you couldn't endure it any longer, the sound of chaos erupted on the other side of the door. The sound of gunshots and screaming got closer and closer until, at last, the door smashed open once. This time, however, it wasn't the sadistic man who entered but a figure you didn't expect. Charles stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of anger and concern.

"What the hell is this?" Charles demanded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

The sadistic man grinned, reveling in the surprise on Charles's face. "Well, well, if it isn't the great Charles Leclerc himself. I hope you're enjoying the show."

Charles's gaze hardened as he assessed the situation. "Release her. Now."

The man laughed, seemingly unfazed by Charles's commanding presence. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, Leclerc, you made a mistake letting this one go. And now, they're going to pay the price for your arrogance."

Charles's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "You're playing a dangerous game.

The sadistic man shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's only dangerous if you lose, Leclerc. And right now, it seems like you're losing."

As the standoff unfolded, you felt a glimmer of hope. Charles was here, and maybe he could put an end to this nightmare. The room seemed to hang in tense silence, the cold air thick with anticipation.

In that moment, Charles's eyes flashed with a resolve that sent a shiver down your spine. The room erupted into chaos as Charles lunged at the sadistic man.

“I should shoot you right here but that would be too easy for you.” Charles spat, holding the man down. Men filed into the room and fear filled your senses before you realized that they were Charles’. He let his men handle the man, taking him away, before quickly moving over to the chair that you were tied to. He made quick work of the ropes that were digging into your skin before he took you into his arms. 

You started sobbing both from relief but also from all of the pent up fear finally releasing. He sank to the floor, holding you close and you savored his warmth. He took off his blazer and hung it over your shoulders to try and get you to warm up. The smell of his cologne was oddly comforting. 

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re safe now” Charles continued to whisper in your ear. His voice was soothing and you felt your heart slow at his comfort. “Let’s get you out of here, darling” He coos before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. The warm air of Monaco in the late spring hits you as you’re carried outside. You couldn’t believe that it was this hot outside while you were freezing to death in that basement mere minutes ago. The shivering finally subsided and you felt yourself relax in Charles’ arms.

“I’ll take you to my house, you’ll be safe there. It’s too risky for you to be by yourself right now, sweetheart, but I promise that I’ll protect you from this ever happening again” Charles vowed as he carefully put you down in the backseat of his Escalade. He rounded the car and sat down in the other seat before his driver turned on the engine.

The drive was peaceful, not a single word being uttered between the two of you. Charles’ hand found yours, rubbing gentle circles in your palm, as if trying to sooth you and keep you calm. The soothing sensation lulled you into a light sleep, the events of the day crashing down as your eyelids become heavy.

“We’re here sweetheart.” Charles whispers in your ear some time later. Your eyes blink open and you’re met with his gorgeous face smiling down at you softly. “Hi there, you slept well?” He chuckles at your tired expression.

“Yeah” You answer in a soft voice, happy to finally be safe and sound in the protection of his home. 

“Good. Do you want to walk or should I carry you?” He asks as the heavy gates in front of his estate opens and the car rolls into the long driveway. 

“I can walk, thank you” You answer him, not taking your eyes off the huge mansion in front of you. You are in awe, this is the biggest house you’ve ever seen. 

 Charles helped you out of the car, his arm wrapped protectively around you as you stood on shaky legs. The grandeur of his estate loomed before you, and you couldn't help but marvel at the opulence of the surroundings. The worry and fear from the basement began to dissipate as you entered the safety of his home.

As you walked through the luxurious halls, Charles guided you to a spacious bedroom. The room was adorned with elegant furnishings and soft, comforting colors. It was a stark contrast to the cold, dimly lit basement you had been trapped in just moments ago.

"Feel free to make yourself at home," Charles said, his voice gentle. "I'll have someone bring you something to eat. You must be starving."

You nodded gratefully, still processing the surreal turn of events. As Charles left the room to attend to your needs, you took a moment to appreciate the warmth and safety that surrounded you. The trauma of the basement lingered, but being in Charles' care provided a sense of solace.

After a warm meal, you found yourself sitting on a plush couch in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket. Charles joined you, his expression a mix of concern and relief. He took a seat beside you, his hand finding yours once again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

You managed a small smile, appreciating the genuine concern in his gaze. "I'm better now, thanks to you. I can't believe you came for me."

Charles sighed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "I told you, I won't let anything happen to you. You're under my protection now."

You nodded in understanding. Your own stubbornness put you in this situation in the first place. If you’d just accepted Charles’ care from the start none of this would’ve happened. But, you knew better now and you were not about to turn his protection down a second time.

“I need you to understand that what happened today was not an anomaly in my world. People get hurt, kidnapped or even worse on a daily basis. So I need you to stay here, in the house, where I can keep you safe. Do you understand?” Charles explains in a voice that leaves little room for negotiation

“But what about uni?” You ask the first thing that comes into mind.

Charles sighed, his expression softening. "I understand the importance of your education, but your safety comes first. We can arrange for online classes or find a way to make sure you don't fall behind. Right now, being out there alone is too risky. I won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I trust you, Charles. If staying here is what it takes to be safe, then I'll do it."

A small smile played on his lips. "Thank you for understanding. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you're comfortable here."

As the evening wore on, Charles remained by your side, offering comfort and support. Despite the harrowing experience, you found solace in his presence. And as you drifted off to sleep in the comfort of his mansion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events that brought you into his care.

Tag-list: @cmleitora @anne1444444 @halover13 @buendiabebeta @buttfug213

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