#when inanimate objects are living your dream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ja3yun · 5 months

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Picturesque | P.SH

bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), pet names, fluff, pornography (? sunghoon takes pictures while they do the deed), multiple orgasms, they're sickeningly cute, not proof read, anything i've missed lmk

wc: 4.6k+

synopsis: it's your boyfriend sunghoon's birthday and you want to make it special. your present goes down much better than anticipated.

a/n: hi! it's my best boys' birthday today <3 i know you're all waiting for the next part of tstab but i couldn't resist to post this. its just a one shot because i love him sm and my brain is always thinking about him but esp on his birthday. hope you like it!

You open your eyes to darkness, the only light coming from the orange streetlight outside. Warmth is felt around your waist and down your back as your boyfriend, Sunghoon, sleeps soundly. Looking at the clock you see it read 3.34am. Perfect.

Today was Sunghoon’s 21st birthday. He said he didn’t want a big fuss, simply to have everyone around to your shared apartment for some dinner and drinks. One thing about your boyfriend is that he was a simple guy with simple needs. That didn’t mean you couldn’t decorate the place for him though.

Planning this was a strategic effort even though it seemed simple. Sunghoon was smart, too smart, and if you slipped up even once about your plans he could easily piece it together. It’s not like you were preparing some big extravagant surprise with fireworks and magicians or something, no, you couldn’t even dream of something so lavish. Truth is with both of you being University students with minimum-wage part-time jobs, you were barely making rent. You don’t regret moving in together, it was the right decision, you just wished the government wasn’t filled with incapable idiots and put everyone in a cost-of-living crisis. So you have to make do with what you have, even if you think it’s not enough.

Peeling your lover's arm from your waist you make haste to start decorating the living room. Your flat was small so you had to be extremely quiet, like don’t breathe quiet, but with you and your lack of ability to produce any noise lower than 120 decibels it is going to be a challenge. Sunghoon loved how loud you were compared to his quieter demeanor, making sure to tell you to be as loud as you want and that he would never complain. He especially made this known in your bedroom.

You put on his white shirt from the night before and gingerly shut the door behind you as you vacate the room, leaving Sunghoon sleeping. In your hall cupboard, you had hidden an Asda bag filled with decorations like banners, balloons, and streamers. Their selection of stuff is to be desired and none of it matches but you’ll make it work.

Looking around your living room with a sigh of discontentment you place all the decorations out on your coffee table. “Okay, where do I start?” Your voice is a whisper as you speak to yourself. “I should start with balloons. Yeah, balloons.”

The balloons you wanted were the big number balloons so you could have the 21 as the centrepiece but the very bitter middle-aged lady in Card Factory made it very clear there weren’t any 2’s in store. What kind of place runs out of 2’s? You had to settle for black, white, and gold multi-pack.

You shut your eyes tight and swallow your breath down as the plastic rustles far too loudly. “Shhh.” A warning to the inanimate object is wasted but it’s all you can think to do. This is going to take a while.

As the morning goes on you’ve managed to blow up the balloons and group them into 3-a-piece, hanging them up on each side of the big window and in the corners. You thought you were a goner when one of the white balloons almost escaped your grasp and started flying around the room but you grabbed it just in time. Checking the time on the clock you see it’s 4.30am. It really took you an hour for the balloons. Banners were next on your list but they should be easier surely.

Grabbing the automne you’ve been using as a ladder you successfully put 3 banners up in 20 minutes. If you had the time you’d celebrate but you still had so much to do before he gets up. “One more.” You place your hands on your hips and blow some hair out of your face as you smile. It’s ugly, it doesn’t match the others at all. The banner is silver with just the letters ‘Happy Birthday’ held together by a tacky white ribbon. You really wish you could do better than this but alas here you are climbing up to situate it above the TV. This is a little trickier since you have to stretch to reach the wall because of the TV unit that sticks out.

You fail to notice your boyfriend leaning by the doorframe with his arms crossed and a cheeser of a smile on his face. He wanted to see how long it would take you to notice his presence but he thinks he’ll be waiting a long time. You’re too engrossed in your task to even hear his footsteps coming up behind you.

“Babe?” His deep morning voice scares you and you stumble on the automne, almost falling backward. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he registers what's happening and rushes to catch you. “Shit, Y/N. You okay?” He places one of his warm hands on your backside and the other on your knee, stroking them both gently to make sure you’re okay.

Only your heart was not okay, thumping loudly as a rush of heat spreads through your chest from the adrenaline of nearly crashing into the table behind you. When you calm down you laugh and lean on his shoulder to step down. “I’m okay.”

Now you’ve properly come to you bring your hands to your mouth as your eyes widen. “You’re not supposed to be up this early!” As if it’s his fault you slap his chest and he chuckles in disbelief.

“Sorry, babe, if I had known you were planning to surprise me I would have slept longer.” Oh. He’s right but still. Not fair.

“I didn’t even get to put up the streamers or that shitty banner.” Dramatically, you wave your arms around and scowl at the devil banner. “It was supposed to be finished so when you walked in I could go ‘Ta-Da!’ and you would be all like ‘Oh my god, Y/N. You’re the best girlfriend ever. This is incredible.’” Sunghoon lets out a loud laugh and brings his hands to your face.

“Okay, okay, let me walk back in and we’ll do it again.” You pout at his suggestion but shake your head as much as you can considering he’s now squishing your cheeks.

“There’s no point now.” Sunghoon sees your disappointment and he matches your saddened expression.

“I’m sorry, babe. You worked so hard on this and I ruined it.”

“Yeah, you did.” You joke while he places a kiss on your forehead and lets you go.

Sunghoon looks around the room at all your efforts. His eyes are filled with admiration and love, everything you did was his favourite but somehow you top it every time. All that energy you spent wasting on worry because you couldn’t give him more was so silly because he was so appreciative that you would even take the time to do any of this, especially when he said he didn’t want a fuss.

His eyes meet yours and he sighs, “Beautiful, you didn’t have to do all this.” You are so busy between all your Uni work and grueling shifts at the restaurant that he doesn’t even know when you had time to get any of this stuff. “It’s just my birthday.”

“It’s your 21st! It’s special!” You protest. “I would have done something more extra but,”

He knows. It’s tight right now between bills and time but none of that matters to him, not right now, not when he has you beside him. “Babe it’s perfect, really. I like the uh,” he points between the decorations, “the green and pink banner and the gold balloons, brings a certain class to the room.” He jokes and you hide your face in embarrassment in his chest, mumbling a little ‘It’s all they had’. “Y/N I love it.” He bends down a little until his face is just below yours, “Seriously. Thank you.”

All the trouble was worth it just to see his smile right now. You peck his lips, “Happy Birthday, Hoonie.” Circling your arms around him as he towers back over you, he kisses the top of your head and then pulls away slightly to kiss your lips. Sunghoon feels so loved by you. The kiss is filled with love and desire so when you pull back he audibly groans.

“Do you want your present?” Not unlike you, but you’re nervous. You had been saving up for his gift since February so no pressure or anything. Inside you’re screaming, your brain working overtime in the anxious department. What if he hates it? “Or do you want to wait a bit?”

“If you’re the present then I’ll take it right now.” He captures your lips back into a kiss. If he wasn’t so into this kiss he would have noticed your playful eye roll. Sunghoon had the impeccable ability to make you have butterflies in your stomach while also frustrating you at how horny he is. He truly is still just a man.

“Hoonie I’m serious.” You pull away and he sighs.

“So am I.” His large hands grope your ass to pull you towards him. When he looks at your face he removes his hands from your body and holds them up defensively. “Okay, I get it. But I told you nothing crazy.”

Sunghoon didn’t care for gifts and that’s why giving this one to him made you feel like you were going to throw up and cry. He was either going to love it or be mad that you bought it.

“Close your eyes.” Doing as he’s told he screws his eyes shut and you turn to dig through the automne. It wasn’t the safest place to leave it considering it took for him to look for one letter or magazine to find it, but it’s better than nothing. The present is perfectly wrapped with glossy white paper, accented with a gold ribbon, you wanted it all to be perfect. “Put out your hands.”

Once his hands are flat you place the box gently in his hands and he opens his eyes. His smile falls a little as he looks between the box and you. “Y/N this is big.” He’s skeptical and his face doesn’t hide it which sends your anxiety through the roof. “Please don’t tell me it’s something exp-”

“Can you just appreciate it and open it please?” He’s hurt by your words. Of course he cherishes anything you do or buy for him, he just doesn’t want you wasting money on him and with the size of this box, he fears you might have.

“Babe of course I appreciate it, you know I do.” You pout and push the box to his chest.

“Then open it and tell me you love it. And don’t get mad.” When you say that he shuts his eyes. “I promise it’s nothing like mad expensive. Scouts honour.” You hold a hand to your chest and one in the air.

Sitting down on the couch he unwraps the gift and sees a plain black box. His fingertips feel the edges before he opens it and his eyes widen bigger than they ever have before, he doesn’t move.

He hates it. Obviously he does. You bite your nails looking at him slowly take out the gift and examine it. “Y/N this is..” He trails off, looking intently at it.

Last year Sunghoon had gotten back into photography, just a hobby, nothing major, but he found a real passion in it this year. He carried the thing everywhere, taking pictures of everything he found pretty - most of the memory card was filled with you. Nonetheless, he didn’t have a case for it, and considering it cost him like 2 months' worth of rent, and that was it being second-hand, you felt like he needed to protect it properly.

So you got him a custom leather case to fit his vintage Minolta TC-1 camera, his initials embroidered on the front lefthand side. The Etsy seller was even nice enough to throw in a strap that matched. You were lying when you said it wasn’t super costly, it did take months to save up for, but as you see his shocked face change into one filled with glee, you know it was worth it.

“Y/N, this is too much.” The smile on his face said otherwise, it was just perfect. “Babe, seriously, this must have cost you a shit ton of money.”

Shrugging you play it off, “Nah, got a good deal on it.”

Like a child at Christmas, he stands up and strides over to embrace you, the hug said everything he couldn’t. There were no words to describe how much he loved it, how much he loved you.

“Let me go get my camera!” Sunghoon was easily excitable and as he ran to your bedroom to retrieve his camera you could only laugh. The pitter-patter of his feet getting faster the closer he got back to the living room was the cutest thing you have ever seen. Struggling to get the camera in the case due to excitement, you walked over and took the case from his hands, “Here, babe.” You slot it in and thank the heavens it fits and in hindsight, you probably should have checked before giving it to him.

“Babe, I love it so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses all over your face. He was such a cutie, you never understood why people were intimidated by him. But then again, with a face so gorgeous who wouldn’t be? And you were the only one that really got to see this side of him.

“I’m glad you like it, Hoonie.” He corrects you and repeats the word ‘love’ which makes you smile.

Turning the camera on he brings it to his face and adjusts it. You take the opportunity of his preoccupied state to clear up some of the mess from the decorations and his present. You contemplate whether you should attempt to finish decorating but you don’t see the point, maybe finish it before the others come over.

A shutter sound echoes in the quiet room and you spin around to see your birthday boy smiling widely as the camera is pointed at you.

“Hoon, stop! I’m not even dressed yet.”

Your words seem to spark a mischievous glint in his eye and you have no clue what he is thinking. Sunghoon slowly walks over to you, “You know,” he wears the strap of the camera around his neck and takes the rubbish from your hands and discards it to the couch, “That’s not a bad idea.” Perplexment shows on your face. When did anything you just say sound like an idea? “I could take your picture.”

“Babe you always take my picture.”

“Not while I’m fucking you I haven’t.”

Your jaw hits the floor. For the first time in your life, you are speechless, utterly gobsmacked. “No way.” You’re a generally shy person despite your loud personality so you would never think to do anything like this.

“Come on, Y/N.” He strokes your hair and uses a lower octave voice to try and persuade you, “They’ll just be for me, literally no one else will see them. You know I would never show them to anyone.”

Evidently he wouldn’t, he doesn’t even like it when you both go out dressed up nice and guys even think about looking at you. This was for him when you were on long shifts or in classes. Something he could use to jerk off to when his wank bank of memories won’t suffice.

He’s too persuasive because the next thing you know you’re taking his hand and pulling him to the bedroom. Glancing around the surroundings you sigh. “Can I tidy up first?”

“Why?” He laughs confused.

“I just don’t want the pictures taken with all this mess lying around, it’s un-aesthetically pleasing.”

His quiet almost silent laugh rings in your ears and you smile defeated. “Baby, do you think for one fucking second I am going to be looking at the slippers on the ground or Mr. Giles in the corner.” Mr. Giles, your childhood teddy bear, has seen far too much of what has gone on in these four walls but why is it when Sunghoon mentions his name you want to cuddle him and apologise?

“Mr. Giles is camera shy okay?” Your boyfriend picks him up, places a kiss on his nose, and places him facing the wall.

“There. See.” He pushes you to lie on the bed, “Now, let me do my job, yeah?” His hands are on your waist in no time, the camera swinging from his neck now lays on your stomach as he bends down. The coldness of the object makes you shiver but you’re soon heating up when you feel his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and pull them down. You hear him mutter ‘So fucking beautiful’ as his face is level with your core. Thinking he’s just going to get right down to business, you spread your legs but he stands up. “I need to take a before shot.”

Click

He takes pictures as you lay there in only his shirt, some at a lower angle to get your perfect pussy in focus. His eyes are telling you he’s trying to refrain from just delving in, from absolutely ingurgitating you, it’s a patience he usually doesn’t have.

“On your knees for me, beautiful.” Being obedient like always, you do what he says. “Gonna get you to suck my cock, okay?” You don’t wait to be told what to do next because your hands are reaching for his boxers to pull them down. Cocks are either fucking beautiful or ugly, and Sunghoon had the prettiest cock of them all. His reddening tip slaps his stomach and you mewl out loud. “Don’t show off for the camera baby, okay? Just do it the way you always do.”

Sunghoon loves the way you lovingly lap his cock, trying to fit it all in your mouth but he’s so big you can’t take it all the way in without choking. It’s cute to him how eager to please him you are.

You sit your hands on his hips and lick a stripe from his balls to the tip before taking his tip in your mouth. “Fuck.” You hear Sunghoon breathe out and it makes you look up. This is the moment you wish you could take the camera and snap a picture of him. Maybe you need to suggest that at a later date.

Right now it’s Sunghoon’s birthday and it’s whatever he wants. You suck his cock in earnest, grabbing the base to cover the part of his cock you can’t fit into your mouth. He’s like you’re favourite meal and while you used to hate sucking dick there’s something so pleasing about him and the way he tastes.

Forgetting his original intentions he grabs your hair and tightens it into a tight pony, pulling at it. “B-babe, so fucking good at this.” It’s not until he looks down at you working him up and down he sees the camera. He uses both hands to put you into focus and takes a few pictures. Some are just a close-up of your lips enveloping his shaft, others are simple POV shots. It’s when you look up as you hear the shuttering from the camera that he starts really taking the pictures with determination to capture how beautiful you look in this moment. The eye contact to the camera has his chest growling. “That’s my pretty girl, made for the camera, huh?”

He wasn’t big on dirty talk but right now he felt like a whole different person, and this person wanted you to hear how good you made him feel.

Picking up the pace you start to slabber down your chin, losing yourself in the action. Sunghoon is so close to cumming that when he pulls you off his cock he whimpers. You are both panting and clouded with lust, your plumped-up lips aren’t helping Sunghoon, and his leaking cock isn’t helping you.

“You’re a natural on this camera, babe.” His hand reaches down to wipe the saliva and particles of his cum from your lips. Click. Another perfect moment. “Can’t wait for you to see it from my point of view.”

“Sunghoon, I love you but I am not looking at those ever.” There is a big part of you that actually would like to see it, but you’re too embarrassed to even imagine what you look like.

“You’re missing out, beautiful. Nothing more picturesque than you choking on my cock.” Sunghoon says the filthy sentence so casually and it flips your stomach. “Lay down for me.”

Removing the camera from his frame he places it on the bedside table. Is he finished taking pictures? “Hoon wha-”

Sunghoon’s face is in between your legs and licking up your folds before you can ask your question but his actions answer it anyway. If he was your favourite meal, you were certainly his. Fuck, you were his favourite everything. He was sucking your clit so suddenly you arched your back, the action pressing your pussy further into his face which elicited a hum of approval from him. The sucking was harsh, overwhelming, so much so you hadn’t even noticed how his fingers lightly trailed your thigh.

His palm pushed your right leg open further, his mouth never letting up on your sensitive bud.

“Hoonie,” A moan of his name leaves your lips, your hand grabbing him and pushing it towards your entrance. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but still listens to your silent request, his middle finger circling your opening.

The birthday boy wishes he could do this and take pictures because he knows you look so fucking beautiful right now. Even the image in his head of you arched in his work shirt, mouth agape and moaning, could make him cum right now. Instead, it just fuels him so keep going at your clit, throwing in some light nibbles every so often.

Slipping his middle finger into you he curls it exactly how you like it. After 2 years of fucking you, he’d say he could easily get a PhD in how to please you, certainly how to make you cum. And what you like is way more than just one finger, so he adds two more sending you crazy.

“Fuck, fuck, Hoonie, so good.” The moans and profanities leaving your lips make him smirk, knowing you’re close. He makes his tongue rigid and uses it to stimulate your nub, going fast and hard in rhythm with his fingers and within a minute your thighs are clamping his head and your coating his tongue with your cum. “Shit, my god, m’cumming.”

He almost laughs at you because of course you’re coming, he’s tasting it right now and it’s better than any meal or cake he’s going to get today.

Your trembling thighs open slightly and he peaks his head up to see you, quickly grabbing his camera. “What a fucking sight,” Sunghoon whispers before clicking. Your arm is laid over your face, his shirt is held together by one button in the middle of your torso, and most importantly your cunt is glistening. He wants to blow this picture up on a canvas and hang it in the living room, but you would never agree and his friend would never leave your house.

As you catch your breath, Sunghoon crawls to hover over you. “Babe you look so fucking good right now.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You laugh and finally bring your arm away from your eyes. Your essence still on his lips somehow makes you wetter than you already are.

“You’re so funny.” His sarcastic tone makes you laugh harder. “Now I need to make a decision

“What?”

“Do I want your pussy filled with my cum, or it splattered on your stomach?"

Oh, you might just have a second orgasm right now. It’s not implausible at this moment. “Well, you have my permission for anything,” You kiss his lips, moaning as he instantly sticks his tongue down your throat. Breaking the moment you bite your lip, “And y’know, if you can cum twice you could get a double shot.”

The camera is pushed back on the table and his dick is touching your entrance, “I’ll make it a surprise what one comes first then, huh?” With that, he’s sliding into your heat, both of you gasping in unison. You’re tight around his cock, your walls dragging themselves perfectly along his hard shaft.

“Shit, babe, feel so fucking good.” If he could record this moment and make it 4DX he would hire out a Cineworld screen every day and watch it on repeat.

Thrusting into you with purpose, one of his big hands gently encloses your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air but enough to have you roll your eyes back. It’s taking all his willpower not to just fuck you rough and hard because if he does he’ll cum instantly and that’s just not going to happen, not on his watch. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect.” He brings his mouth to your ear, “My pretty girl, I love you so much.”

You cry out in love and pleasure as he starts to pick up the pace, his cock hitting your soft spot every time. To him, you were the only present he ever needed.

Sunghoon nibbles your earlobe, keeping his rhythm steady, continuing to whisper in your ear, “You wanna cum?”

“Yes, fuck yes please, Hoon.” He takes your hand from your throat and places it beside your head to give him more stability as he relentlessly fucks into you, his lips sucking in yours as he loses control, his only thought right now is to make you come undone on his dick.

From the last orgasm you had it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming again, the aftershocks still buzzing and only adding to the sensation. You’re gripping his arms and crawling down them, legs shaking as you loosely wrap them around him. There’s no energy left in your body so as he fucks you deep, your spent body only moves due to the power of his thrusts. “You’re doing so good, I’m nearly there, babe.” He mumbles into your neck as he nuzzles into you.

You’re getting a tiny bit overstimulated but you know he’s close so you bear with it, mustering up all you have left to whisper, “Come on, Hoonie, don’t you wanna get the perfect shot?”

His seed fills you instantaneously as your words echo in his ear, his body jittering as he coats your walls, his hips losing their rhythm and coming to a standstill.

Heavy breathing and banging heartbeats are all you both hear as you compose yourselves. Sunghoon falls on top of you, his softening cock still buried inside you. Rubbing soothing circles on his back makes him smile widely and look at you. “Thank you, babe. For the present.”

“You’re welcome.” Lazily you plant a feather kiss on his nose. You reach over and grab the camera, “Well, you got a picture to take.”

Smirking, Sunghoon takes the camera and slides out of you, taking in the view of his cum dripping out of you onto the bedsheets. It’s a work of art. “Pose for me, pretty girl.” You open your legs a little wider and try your hardest to look sexy for him.

The camera clicks a few times, each shot more beautiful than the last. You’re his muse, his everything, his best birthday present.

“Now,” He puts the camera away and lays on you once again, “I think for my next birthday I might ask for a camcorder.”

#sunghoon smut #enha smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha x reader #aj writes #i love him sm i hope he has the best birthday ever fr

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florencemtrash · 4 months

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The Artificer: Part II - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Torture, violence, death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

Five months later…

“Where is she?” The Shadowsinger stalked forward, silent as the dead and just as unfeeling.

The Autumn Court warrior at least had the sense to tremble when The Shadowsinger came near. But he kept his red-cracked lips shut, golden eyes shining with hatred.

“Bastard.” He sneered, spitting on Azriel’s polished boot.

“I said.” A shadow darted out from his side, grabbing a fistful of matted tawny hair and wrenching it back. His skin was thin, so translucent that Azriel traced the flow of his blood in his purple veins with dead eyes. “Where. Is. She?” Every word was emphasized with a violent jerk.

He’d gone to visit you last week, carrying your favorite chocolates from Velaris and hoping for a far sweeter kiss in return. Instead your workshop had been in ruins. Swords shattered and the fire burnt out. For the first time, the room had been cold and unlit.

Azriel had only found the pathetic male in front of him, kneeling on the ground and uselessly tugging at the sword which refused to move - Sunseeker.

Azriel held it now in his hands, the pale, yellow glow sharpening the shadows beneath his eyes and the elegantly cruel cut of his jaw.

It had been a risk trying to pick up the sword, but the weapon had sung to him and his shadows, calling out for him to wield it instead of the unworthy Autumn Court male. Azriel was no replacement for its real master - he was no replacement for you - but Sunseeker willed it and he obeyed.

“Is there truly no one else capable of wielding it?” Azriel asked, sitting so close to you that your knees and elbows brushed against one another. He didn’t have the courage to kiss you just yet, but gods did he want to. And with the hours he’d spent looking at and dreaming about your lips, he was certain he had a good idea what you tasted like.

“Her.” You corrected, holding the sword up to the steady stream of sunlight that spilled through the slats in the ceiling. Pressed against the light, the sword appeared almost transparent - as if made of glass.

Azriel smiled. You liked to name and personify every tool, weapon, and piece of equipment you owned, as if you had a secret third eye that allowed you to see into the lives of inanimate objects. He wanted to believe it was true - it was the only way he could explain the wonders you produced with your bare hands.

“There is one other person capable of such a thing,” You hesitated to tell him, but ultimately finished. “My mate.”

All at once Azriel’s heart fell into free fall, prepared to crash through the cradle of his bones and into the floor. His face, marvelously, betrayed nothing.

“Your mate.” He stole his gaze away, focusing on a very interesting speck of dust on the counter, “They’re lucky.” He murmured, drawing away.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not lucky enough.” You sheathed the blade, returning it to its new place on the wall, “They haven’t found me yet.”

“Oh.” A flicker of hope filled his chest - dangerous and unwieldy. “Is that… is that something you want? A mate? ” Azriel wondered aloud before his mind could trap the words. He cringed, shaking his head in self-disappointment.

What a stupid question. Everyone wanted to find their mate. Everyone. He himself had been obsessed with the concept for hundreds of years. He had thought he’d find his mate in Mor, and then Elain, he had even thought he felt something more than friendship for Gwyn.

But more recently the idea had faded into the recesses of his mind. More recently the worst of his thoughts had fallen silent, and it was all thanks to you.

“Maybe,” You considered it, “Maybe not.” You sighed, sinking back into your seat. You rubbed at a metal coin on the benchtop, feeling the oil gather on its surface and taint your fingers grey, “My parents were mates. They didn’t love each other though. Not really.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You shook your head and shook off his sympathy.

“I don’t know if I want a mate…”

You pulled your chair closer and reached out, delicately beginning to drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of Azriel’s scars. His heart stopped when you picked up his hands and gently kissed them, your calloused fingertips rolling over his ruined skin.

“But there is something I definitely want.” You revealed, looking at him with more feeling than you ever had before.

You’d been scraping by on lingering touches and reserved smiles and momentary glances that spoke of more than friendship. But it wasn’t enough. It had never been enough, not since the moment he’d walked into your workroom. You felt like a woman starved, deprived of something that you hadn’t even tasted yet. It was a terrible pain to want something you didn’t even understand the nature of.

Azriel wasn’t everything. He wasn’t the air you needed to breathe. He wasn’t every piece of joy that life could bring. But he was the bright touch of color in the world that made everything that came before seem dull. And you didn’t want to live in greyscale anymore.

Azriel swallowed thickly, his hands instinctively falling to your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Whatever it is you want, Y/n - anything at all - I’ll give it to you.” He whispered reverently, closing his eyes when you pressed your forehead against his, “I swear it on my life.”

It was such sweet torture feeling you pressed against him with your hands caressing his throat. You smelled like woodsmoke and citrus. Heady, sweet, and clean all at the same time.

“Just you, Az. I just want you.”

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He tightened his grip on you, swallowing your little gasp of surprise with his lips.

Time was molten metal. Cooling, slowing, and warping around your hands as you molded it to your liking, so you could savor this moment for as long as possible.

Little did you know, your mate had found you. And he would find you again. Nothing but the crashing of the stars and the splitting of the earth would keep him from fulfilling this promise.

Azriel’s eyes darkened.

“Three of you were sent to take Y/n.” Azriel stalked around the male, slipping in and out of eyesight without warning. The male pulled at his chains and the ring of his futile efforts echoed throughout the dungeon.

“She put up a fight.” Azriel emerged from the male’s left, shooting out an arm so quickly that the pain followed after the fall of blood down his freckled cheeks.

Azriel cleaned Truth-Teller on his forearm nonchalantly, continuing his ambiguous path. If it weren’t for the hard cruelty in his eyes and the knife in his hands, he would look… normal. As if he were doing the grocery instead of slowly butchering a fae alive. He’d already taken three fingers and four toes.

The male began to shake.

“I saw the blood in the shop. It wasn’t yours, and it wasn’t hers.”

Another arm shot out, followed by a scream. The male grappled for an ear that was no longer there, feeling the blood drip down his arms from the stump.

“I DON’T KNOW!” The male cried out, curling in on himself, “I don’t know.” He repeated miserably.

“What don’t you know?” Azriel asked. His countenance said he was bored, but inside he was barely holding on by a thread. His shadows begged to be released and scattered across all of Prythian until you were returned home. They wanted chaos and pain - anything to distract from your aching absence.

Let us handle this. They hissed. We can take him. We’ll get the information. We’ll get everything. Let us-

Azriel shushed them, and they obeyed, falling to the edges of his consciousness and the edges of his body.

“What don’t you know?” Azriel leaned forward, some sick, twisted part of him relishing in the way the male flinched.

“I-I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know why he wanted her. Just some no-name artificer from-”

“Who wanted her?”

The male paled further until his skin was as pallid as moonlight on lakewater.

“WHO?!”

“THE HIGH LORD!” He whimpered, shuffling away from Azriel’s encroaching footsteps. The chains scuffed the ground and then clanged when he reached the end of his length, trailing blood. “Ber-Beron wanted her.”

Azriel stilled, his insides turning cold.

There were dozens of reasons why Beron might want you as his prisoner. Your talents alone made you worth a thousand men. But if Beron had any awareness of what you meant to him?

Azriel gritted his teeth. “For what purpose?” He growled.

The male’s dull eyes closed in defeat. He was as good as dead. He could only hope the rumours were true and that the Night Court were not the devils they pretended to be. Then, and only then, might he be offered the option of a violently quick end.

“He heard rumours of an artificer - a female artificer - capable of crafting weapons that could be bonded to a single wielder. He’s been searching for years now.” He shook his bloodied locks, “We thought…We thought it would be another dead end. Another body to bury. We didn’t think-” He choked on his words, trailing off into silence.

Azriel crouched down, dragging the Truth-Teller down the male’s face like a sculptor ready to carve a piece of marble down.

One wrong breath, one flinch, and he’d draw blood.

“Finish what you were going to say.” His hazel eyes cut deep.

He swallowed, “We didn’t think… we didn’t think she was anyone important.”

Azriel’s eyes were swallowed up by shadows until they hardened into two marble stones.

The male held his breath, feeling an oppressive power start to press down on him. Suffocating. Cold. Lethal. Darkness shoved him to the floor, crushing his ribs until they splintered and snapped.

“That was your mistake,” Azriel growled, “She is someone important. More important than you will ever be.” With a flash of blue and black, he buried Truth-Teller into the male’s chest all the way down to the hilt.

A shock of surprise and pain flooded the male’s face, and before the expression could dissipate, Azriel leaned in close enough to smell the blood pooling on his tongue and dripping down his chin.

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

___________

His shadows roiled in frustration, climbing up his legs and arms like fire greedily chasing after oxygen. They weren’t happy about being denied a kill, and every moment Azriel kept them on a leash, the more irritable they became. Their devotion to you was second only to Azriel. Even then, they would hesitate to disappoint you, even if it meant going against their master.

Soon. He promised them. Soon.

Azriel’s silhouette was carved out of the fabric of the night sky, shadows curling around his arms and wings as he stayed low, pooling his power to keep them all hidden. Cassian and Eris lay on the ground beside him, arms and wings tucked in close.

Autumn lay like a sleeping giant all around them, sighing with a breath that had mist floating up from slick, damp earth covered in leaves. Azriel was grateful for the weather, the rain disguised the curling of their breath in the air and masked their footsteps when they crossed over from Spring. Night and mist were a Shadowsinger’s dream.

The ground rose steadily in front of them, trees only daring to inch halfway up the hill as if they too could taste the magic in the air. All the trees - save for the godstree that marked the crest of the hill and snaked its thundering hand towards the sky in a knobby, clenched fist.

Icaryon Hill was one of Autumn’s most highly guarded secrets, and like the Forest House, it hid all its treasures and prisoners underground.

Azriel leaned down, pressing his ear to the ground and straining his ears for anything. Anything at all.

Eris smirked at him, reveling in the way Azriel bristled and bared his teeth. He would never let the Shadowsinger forget how he’d become desperate enough to swallow his pride and ask him for help.

Cassian looked equally displeased at the Lordling’s presence. “I hope your information isn’t as useless as the rest of you.”

“Careful who you call useless, Bastard,” Eris drawled, choosing his words very carefully, “Or else I might have to leave you and your pretty little artificer for the dogs.”

Cassian had to stop himself from wringing his pale, slender neck, but Azriel - for once in his life - didn’t have that much self control.

He shot forward, wrapping one scarred hand around Eris’s throat and slamming his head back into the ground, pushing down until he sank six inches into the damp soil.

Eris’s eyes flashed with something like triumph and curiosity. Nevermind that the Shadowsinger was currently crushing his ribs with his knee, or that Truth Teller was starting to leave a thin line of blood on his neck.

Azriel hated him, and the piece he hated most was that even when Eris was down, he had a way of making himself out to be the biggest person in the room.

“Az, that’s enough,” Cassian hissed. His eyes kept swiveling back up to the hill, “Let him go.”

Eris had warned them there would be a narrow window of time between the changing of the guards. The belly of Icaryon Hill was so expertly warded that no one - not even the High Lord - was capable of winnowing in. At some unknown time three guards would slip out and three guards would slip in, all winnowing to the gate hidden in the base of the godstree. One - and only one - of the males would have the key necessary to enter and exit and they’d have to unlock the gate in twenty seconds or risk triggering an alarm. If any blood was spilled on the earth, internal alarms within the Forest House would trigger the arrival of a squadron of gorgons capable of turning flesh to rock with a single touch.

That meant in order to evade the wards they’d have to winnow up the hill, kill six highly-trained males without bloodshed, and find the key in less than twenty seconds if they wanted even the smallest chance of getting you out.

Cassian knew this and it made his stomach turn.

Eris knew this and it made him cocky.

“Interesting.” Eris said, tilting his head with a smug smile on his face, “The Artificer, huh? Was that doe-eyed seer not enough for you?”

Azriel began to heave with rage, eyes turning pure black. It was enough to scare even Cas. Azriel had been on edge for weeks since you’d gone missing, but Cass had never seen him so… so unhinged.

Azriel had traded in his icy rage for a darker, more visceral variety capable of driving him to madness.

And Eris was not making things better.

He continued to goad him, “Maybe she ran away? I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Eris, shut the fuck up.” Cassian growled, “When are the guards changing?”

Eris ignored him, concentrating on the Shadowsinger. Azriel may have been the one to approach him for help, but that didn’t mean he was going to waste an opportunity to advance his own agenda.

It was funny. Everyone said The Shadowsinger was near unreadable - cold as a statue and as unfeeling as steel. But deep down, Eris knew he was still the same little Illyrian bastard that had been shoved into a cellar and convinced he didn’t matter. And more than making him insecure or thoughtful, it had made him angry.

Eris switched tactics, focusing on you instead, “Maybe, when this is all said and done, your precious whore will run away too.” Azriel stilled, shadows pouring off of him to the ground where they turned into claws and sank in deep, “And just maybe, I’ll be there to fuck her the way she likes. I’d pay her good money too.”

“Eris!” Cassian’s warning came too late. Azriel raised his arm, Truth Teller glinting in the darkness.

Something in the earth shifted, thin rays of light spilling out of the gate atop the hill.

Eris smiled.

Just on time.

The guards were changing.

“Fuck!” Cassian groaned, grabbing at his swords but not daring to unsheath them.

Azriel was roiling with panic and rage, every muscle in his body feeling ready to split in two. And Eris… Eris was smiling.

“Go on Shadowsinger.” He said, pointing to the hill, “Tick tock.”

Azriel clawed the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet at the same time he clutched Cassian’s arm hard enough to bruise. They winnowed up to the gate in a whirlwind of death and shadow.

Six guards. 15 seconds.

Eris slammed his fist into two of the males’ throats, cutting off their roars of alarm. Two swift kicks to their knees and they exploded out with a sickening snap. Sharp cracks followed and they fell to the ground, their necks sticking out at a harsh angle.

Four.

Eris dropped to his knees, ripping at amour in search of the key.

Cassian rolled to the ground, narrowly missing the downward swing of a sword that buried itself in the ground. He bounced onto his feet, as lithe and limber as a fae a quarter of his size. He grabbed a fistful of blood-red hair, swiftly bringing the other elbow down. He made perfect contact at the base of the skull, severing the connection between the spinal cord and the brain.

Three.

This was taking too long. They would never make it in time.

But… but how was it still so quiet? Cassian dared to look up from his search for the key and his blood ran cold.

Azriel…

Azriel was death and decay given form. The moment they reached the gate, for the first time in his life, he relinquished full control of his shadows.

They swarmed around him until he was nothing more than a dark, blurry cloud of destruction. He grabbed the male closest to him, digging his hands into his throat and registering the horror in his eyes before shadows poured into his eyes, mouth, nose, ears. They flooded every sense, screaming in Azriel’s ears of a power that he had never been desperate or angry enough to unleash… until now.

The shadows filled the male’s body, wrecking bones and ripping apart tendons with a force that transformed them into razor sharp talons. The male gurgled, body jerking around in pain. Azriel finished him off by snapping his neck with a clean, sharp jerk. The body fell to the ground with a hollow thud.

Two.

The remaining guards similarly dropped to their knees, empty eyes and hands left to ghost over their throats before they fell forward. Dead.

Shadows leaked out of their eyes and mouth, slipping over their cooling bodies like the rain that pitter pattered against their backs. But no blood. Not even a drop.

One tendril of night slid up Azriel’s leg and washed over his hands, depositing a glittering bronze key that burned with warmth.

He should have felt more. More surprise and some semblance of disgust at what he’d just done. What he’d been capable of. But those feelings remained hidden, sullen and silent behind walls of obsidian willpower and adamant.

Cassian and Eris stared at him, wasting a few precious seconds to gape at the littering of bodies around them, raindrops pattering onto their backs and slowly absorbing into leather and skin.

Cassian swallowed, daring to break the silence, “I never knew you could do that.” He admitted blandly. Cassian wasn’t afraid of his brother - he never could be. He’d survived too many battles by his side to ever fear being on the wrong end of his blade… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be unnerved by the powers that thrived within him, and how little anyone knew about them.

“Neither did I,” Azriel said without emotion, closing his fist around the key. “Let’s go.”

He stalked to the gate where it hummed in the ground like a dropped coin, fluttering with life, beckoning him to enter.

Just a little longer, Y/n. I’m coming.

He used the key and the gate opened.

You crouched in the darkness, cradling your ruined hands and trying not to cry.

The first few weeks Beron had let you out of your cell during the day, bringing you to the forge hidden beneath the hill so you could set about building him a weapon of his own. You’d leaned into his desires, working the metal until it sang a song of promise to the cruel High Lord.

He wanted power, and you’d promised it to him, proving your worth long enough for Azriel to come find you. But it had been almost two months, Azriel was nowhere to be found, and Beron was losing patience.

He traded empty compliments for threats, and when those failed to do anything, he turned to outright cruelty. Just this morning, he’d had one of his men whip your hands until they bled. Then, as a personal touch, he’d torn your shirt to pieces and trailed his fingers down your back. His touch had been light. You could’ve mistaken them for the kisses of a lover if it weren’t for the fact that he’d set the tips of his fingers on fire so they burned the whole way down.

They smarted and burned, the pain seeping in now that the shock was ebbing away.

“He’s coming. He’s coming.” You murmured to yourself, curling in on yourself with your arms pressed close to your exposed chest. “Just stay strong. Stay strong.”

“He’s not coming for you, dear.” A phantom hand, cold and bony as death, caressed your back. You looked up, eyes shining like two shards of glass in the darkness.

The High Lord was as handsome as he was deadly, the smooth and elegant planes of his face and his honey-sweet voice in stark contrast to the light of his eyes - or rather lack thereof.

They held no warmth, no pity, no fear.

“He’s not coming for you.” He repeated.

“Liar.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. His blood-red robes trailed along the grate of your prison cell, blocking out the meager light that trickled down. The gold-trim embroidery winked deceptively, flashing sultry looks of wealth and opulence in your direction.

Your stomach growled painfully and you wrapped yourself up as best you could. You’d spent most of your life time by the forge. Cold was not a familiar experience.

“I don’t know what that Illyrian bastard, Azriel, promised you. Wealth. Prestige. Love.”

You growled, kicking the wall hard enough for a shower of dirt to rain down on your head. You tried not to flinch when debris landed on sensitive skin, “Keep his name out of your mouth.”

Beron smirked, amused, “So much anger. So much defensiveness for a male who won’t care about you the next time a pretty female with doe eyes wanders into his path.”

You bared your teeth at him.

“Ahhhhh,” he clicked his tongue happily, “So perhaps you’re already aware he holds a certain reputation. Pity.” There was another swoosh of his velvet robes, “I’m promising you safety, enough gold and silks to make an empress jealous, and in return I just ask for you to do what you’ve always done.” He held up his hands, “I don’t understand where the difficulty lies”

“In return you’d want to make me your bitch.” You spit out, “To give you the tools to kill whomever you pleased.”

“I already have the tools to kill whomever I please.”

“No. No you don’t.” He narrowed his eyes in displeasure. You limped forward, holding your hands close to your chest. Your body may have been weak, but your heart and your mind were still strong. Not even Beron was capable of taking that from you. You looked up at the High Lord unflinchingly, “When Azriel comes for me - and he will - I’ll ask him for your head on a pike.”

Beron sneered, “If he and his half-breed Lord decide you’re worth the trouble, I’ll kill your little Shadowsinger first and reduce him to ash.”

You set your jaw, refusing to look away as the High Lord turned on his heels and left the room. Only then did you sink to your knees exhausted and breathed in the scent of damp, rotting earth.

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romanoffsdarling · 6 months

Text

Summertime Sadness

Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader

Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there.

Word Count: 4,891

Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)

You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey.

Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did.

All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean.

You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind.

The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought.

Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.”

Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle.

Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same.

“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.”

Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”

“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.”

“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.”

Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.”

Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice.

“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.”

The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.”

Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through.

“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”

Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”

Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.”

The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over.

“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”

Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.”

You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.”

Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from.

“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?”

Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.”

“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”

“What were you going to do?”

You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”

Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.”

“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.”

A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.”

You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner.

The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed.

Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course.

You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request.

Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own.

“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?”

“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.”

You arch a brow. “Really?”

Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them.

“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?”

The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.”

“What would you wish for then?”

You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?”

She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?”

“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.”

Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”

Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”

“Me.”

If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.”

She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”

“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.”

But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”

The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut.

“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.”

“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.”

A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away.

You didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer.

At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach.

With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you.

“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”

Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs.

A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you.

The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins.

With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were.

Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?”

You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge.

“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”

Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”

A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--”

Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”

At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through.

When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before.

“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.”

Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through.

“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?”

Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.”

Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out?

What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by?

You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed.

“Yes.”

Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #summertime sadness #mcu imagine #avengers imagine

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 21 days

Text

the counterpart

chapter 6 — done it warning, done it now

art cr: @zaunitearchives our most faithful viktor lover <3 (can you guess which one of the inspo pics belongs to me?because i wasn’t joking when i said i might start using my pictures for these silly frames — I‘M DEDICATED to this fic okay)

word count: 2,2k

VERY nsfw, horny idiots in love, dialogue dialogue dialogue, explicit language, public masturbation, vehicle sex if you will. some porn to prepare you for the chaos i may or may not cause in the next chap 🫣

—

“Do you ever feel like a pawn?”

He turns around and his weary head tips deeper into what little comfort an old bus seat could provide, honeyed eyes a confused reproach pointed at your sheepish smile — had you dawdling over the halo of sun rays slipping prettily into the dark scatter of his hair, turning chestnut into rich, warm bourbon.

“Since when are you interested in philosophy?”

It makes you stumble over an innocent chuckle; fingers grow flush and hot against his, threatening to slide out of the warm press of hands — to satiate the sudden whim of cradling his face and dipping your thumbs gently into the sharp lines of defined cheekbones.

“Answer the question, Viktor.”

Oh the forwardness. Always gives him the urge to comply no matter how ridiculous the request is — be it a hypothetical silly ‘what if’ or an actual firm demand.

“I don’t project on inanimate objects, milackú,” he maneuvered smoothly out of your prudent trip, placing a cheeky kiss on the curious arc of your mouth. “But, in order not to digress — yes, I suppose I do. Quite occasionally. In your arms.”

“Smooth. Bravo, Viktor — that was so sweet I might have to see a dentist now.”

“Don’t forget to send me the bill.”

You gawked at the tooth gap in his proud grin with a hopeless sigh, leaning closer to tuck your face into the crevice of his slender neck. Couldn’t care less about the other passengers — nor did they care about you, to be frank: your seats were hidden in the back corner securely enough. Lips pressed to the fresh love bruise, so poorly covered with a mess of his unbuttoned collar — a not so humble possessive remnant of the morning tryst in his room. You craved a change of scenery: ravishing only one bed quickly becomes boring and unfair to its just as much ravished owner.

“No, but seriously,” you kept prying, words a muffled mumble against the slim of his skin — had you smiling when you caught the subtle scent of soap on the barely exposed collarbone, and his hand found tender leverage in your hair as thoughts drifted to the delicious things he did to you in that bathroom this very morning. Even longed to hold him there for a little longer — if not for the damn bus, that was now rapidly moving towards your opportunity to flaunt. Or to become a pitiful disgrace. Unfortunately, so far you were only leaning towards the latter.

It was Viktor’s idea. To play a local tournament — a somewhat silly for a person of his rating gathering, that he had no valid reason to attend. And yet he was so insistent on taking you there, held your hand so securely tight as you tried to fruitlessly convince him of your incompetence. Well, not incompetence, per se — you were simply a tad bit rusty, with a long forgotten dream of ever turning your passion into something professional. Endured a lengthy back and forth filled with his soft persistence and your capricious reluctance (which was secretly just a failed attempt to cover your incitement).

Because you loved the competition. Used to live off the thrill of having people at the edges of their seats, consumed their defeated groans alongside each captured piece, and forcibly swallowed the spiteful comments spinning at the tip of your tongue during each bitter post-defeat handshake. Adored the elegant gall-spitting on the checkered board, and loved hearing people whisper malicious things whenever you entered the room.

What happened to that version of you? Was it still there — a sharp tiny warrior, or ‘that pretentious little cunt’ — a title you wore proudly after a certain querulous opponent had revealed it to you generously all these years ago?

Well, certainly. Angry girls grow up shaped into furious women, but your fierceness was now imposed on men, poetry and lechery. Anything but tournaments.

And — while chess still owned your heart — you had to bow your head to the countless obstacles of life, aiming for stability; fed the vigorous child inside you countless books and analyzed hundreds of games, hoping that, eventually, that stupid yearning will be sated.

But now you had him — your bright opponent, rated strong intermediate and highly respected in narrow circles. A player of great potential — he was everything you could’ve been by now, a living proof of one’s passion and major coexisting peacefully. Your personal Czech serpent, the gentlest hangman of your fortitude — eager to get you rated, to make you see your skills through his meticulous eyes.

So here you were. Entwined with him in the contentious privacy of this backseat, harried with occasional chokeholds of your nervousness. Viktor was waiting for your point, all flushed ears and uneven breath.

“What I mean is,” you sighed again, tongue dancing skittishly over the front row of teeth, “don’t you ever feel so small and utterly unimportant? Like everyone else is so much more valuable?”

“But pawns are very important,” he protested, coaxing you to quit hiding from his acute eyes, “I delivered checkmates with pawns countless times before. And so did you.“

You couldn’t argue with that logic. Just sank deeper into his arms and watched the light run through his dilated pupils — the slipping boredom of the city both of you were getting out of today.

“Yes, but would you rather lose a pawn or… say, a rook? Or a knight? Or quite literally any other thing?” reluctant to bend to his attempts at soothing your restless mind, you refused to retreat and sweetly troubled him further. His smirk curled atop yours in a curt little touch — but one can’t kiss away a worry that excessive. Even as determined as he was to try.

“Depends on the circumstances. Surely, choosing to lose a powerful piece over a less significant one sounds unreasonable when you put it that way — but we both know it doesn’t exactly work like that.”

His sigh — or was it the rough scorch of the sun? — was making you melt; took care of your misery like the acidic little thing it is. Big palm stirred over the hem of a cotton dress, tracing it with a tremble, then slipping cautiously underneath — to curl around your thigh and pin it to the seat like a gentle shackle. You could still make out the grip through the sheer restraint of fabric; had your legs clenching together to trap it viciously into a crate of skin and soft little hairs: they stood on their ends oh so treacherously, each shiver palpable under the calluses of Viktor’s fingers.

“Moje laska.” There it is again. Turning you into a dumb pile of freshly discovered weaknesses — he could burn you to ashes that very moment and you’d gladly let him get away with it, as long as that hand stayed so close to home, damp from your sweat and whatever beads of slick seeping through the soaked ruin of your underwear. If only he could reach down and throw а quivering thigh over one scrawny shoulder, tongue a trail chasing the wet deliciousness of your lust after him — just how he likes it: sweet, slow and salacious. The holy trinity of your fervent undoings.

“You’ll make them all feel like pawns,” you felt him sting the shell of your ear in a tortuous whisper, his caress tenderly cruel against what little composure left between tense legs, “I can promise you that much.”

“We have a tournament to play, and that’s what you’re thinking about right now?” you tried to snatch the power out of his hands, but tripped over his long middle finger — so viciously close to the swollen folds. He could’ve grasped the shape of them through the obstacle of fabric if only you approved of the mischief.

“We have a tournament to play, and you’re wasting our precious time on baseless self-consciousness. I am merely providing a pleasant distraction,” he explained, then resigned to offer you a moment of hesitation. “Unless the setting is too public for you, of course. I don’t mind proceeding in private, with less prying eyes nailed to your potential, eh… agony.”

“My, you’re shameless.”

“You’re one to talk. So? May I?”

Gaze quickly flipped through the row of potential witnesses, failing to notice a single giving a fuck one. Viktor waited for your permission with patiently bated breath, watching your throat move when you gulped, slightly strangled.

“Please.”

Lips protruded into a line — a show-off of a smirk at the eroded crumbles of your sanity. Because, indeed — your writhing was needy to its very core, legs tumbled in to coax your salvation out of him. Impatient, fitful, stubborn — your demand was impeccable in its tacit delivery, emphasized the urgency when a single fingertip brushed the entrance soft and languid, then found the wet, laced at the edges barrier. White and see-through, with a silly bow sitting prettily right on top — he watched you put them on fresh out of the shower, all damp-skinned and weak-kneed, the swift slide of light fabric over the divine thick of your thighs. It’s a shame he couldn't see the mess he’d made out of them.

A well-rehearsed route: a casual slide inside the delicate garment, a timid swipe over each plush fold. Immutable, but you liked it — begged for more into his rouge under the white shirt shoulder. It matched you so effortlessly. Though his attire was sticky only from sweat.

Torturous. Purely, perfectly, obscenely tortuous — that’s how his finger felt, hot and slick, in a precious little roll against the swell of your clit, and you found hold of his lean thigh, nails a sharp anchor in the gentle flesh of it — squeezing hard enough to cut through his pants. And his little chuckles — these warm brisk spurts of muffled laughter. They had your free from gnawing at him hand pressing tight against your mouth, pushing the debauched whine back into your throat until it was practically strangling you, swallowing hard to keep everyone present unaware of the stage of bliss you were going through in that damned seat. As tempted as you were to scream at the top of your burning lungs — it was best for your audience to remain unconcerned.

Don’t get caught, don’t attract attention, don’t fuck it up — but god was it difficult when you needed so much more than just these restrained, demure cirles against your aching clit. Glassy-eyed and so tense, you silently pleaded him to keep going — a second away from rolling into his lap to fall strung up on his just as much aching cock and have him thrust your heart out in that very grimmy seat. And he would do it, always so happy to please — no doubt muttering swears towards the oblivious handful of other passengers, mourning the urge to tend to as you deserve it — full-course and thorough.

He probably won’t fuck you in public ever again. Not where he couldn’t pay you every last neck kiss and every last lewd little word, at the very least.

But for now he tormented you meticulously towards the sweet climax — clockwise, calculated, gentle. With an occasional flick of darkened eyes over each potential witness: to make sure he’s the only one to savor your collapse, the ever thoughtful protector of your pleasure. And there he was in your ear again — with a filthy helping of pleasantries spoken softly to ensure you get what you want.

“You’re so beautiful.” Voice satin, motions timidly flawless. He had a bit of a hard time pronouncing it, choked on a humm so utterly awe-struck. “Oh, the things I’d do to you if only we were alone. The things I’m tempted to do to you — to hell with privacy. Being quiet doesn’t suit you, milovaná.”

And you finally spilled. Heavy head dropped back in what could’ve been a loud lustful moan — mouth formed an eager O under the slam of your sweaty palm. Buckled knees and tiny convulsions — you came not nearly hard enough in comparison to what he usually puts you through, yet it still lanced through you and turned limbs numb, clit was sore from the remnants of your dissolving arousal, throbbing under the generous stroke of his fingertips.

A slow orgasm — both in delivery and departure, a taunting treat that left you delightfully dizzy. You captured the warm sight of him through the fluttering cover of lashes, myriad white dots biting roughly at your vision, rubbing rudely into a sunny line that melted the ends of his wild hair into a lighter shade. His hand slid away, tremulous. Left a glossy trace all the way up to your shaking knee. Thin wrist caught a little cramp.

“Breathe.” A sultry reminder upon the slope of your shoulder as his lips found some skin in a brief kiss. Cheeky. Self-pleased. Had you nearly sobbing in fresh desperation when he wiped two glistening fingers to a fetched out handkerchief ostentatiously. Absorbed every drop of you and tucked it back into his breast pocket — to wear you there lewdly next to his heart.

You’ll need a few cigarettes back-to-back to recover from this.

The bus needed fifteen more minutes to spit you out gently into the hostile arms of the competition.

—

tags: @thehistoriangirl @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor smut #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #the cunterpart

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anon-sect · 1 month

Text

Max was in the back room monitoring the security cameras. He kept an eye on one guy who seemed suspicious. He didn't want to jump to conclusions before seeing any evidence of foul intentions. As he monitored him, he saw him stuff several store items into his jacket and zip it up. He had to teach this shoplifter a lesson. He told one his employees to keep an eye on him while he left to confront the guy.

The employee pointed to the guy when he got in the area of the store. He has had stuff go missing recently but was unable to catch the culprit. "I think you have something that belongs to us." He spoke to the guy, who seemed to brush off the accusation.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Larry replied back, trying to play it off. As long as they couldn't prove it, he could once again get away with stealing from the store. So far, they haven't caught him yet.

Max was not letting him get away with robbing them blind once more. "I saw you on the camera stuffing a few items in your jacket. You can either fess up or I call the police and show them footage from my security cameras." He paused as he decided to increase the pressure on him. "I think you have been the one doing the recent thefts in my store. I am sure my cameras can probably prove it if I look a little further." He finished. If the guy failed to submit, he would proceed with his threat for sure.

Larry didn't need to be arrested for shoplifting. He could call the store owners bluff, but that could land him into a lot of trouble with law enforcement. He didn't want that. He unzipped his jacket and handed the items to the store owner. "Happy now? Can I go?" He asked back, annoyed that he was caught.

Max had no intentions of letting the culprit just walk out his store without learning a valuable lesson. "Sure, just know I will report the other thefts, and report you as the suspect." He threatened to him.

Larry surely didn't want that to happen. He had to bargain with the store owner to keep law enforcement out of the situation. "What can I do to make this situation vanish? Do you want me to never come back into your store ever again?" He asked, wondering what he would request to keep the cops out of this mess.

Max smiled. "A weeks time helping me out here at the store and with other things would do." He offered to him. Max smiled because he knew exactly how the thief was going to help him, and it wasn't just in the store only.

"Okay, deal, just don't call the cops, okay." Larry agreed. He followed the store owner to the back as ordered. Once the door was closed, he saw him hold a strange device in his hands. "You time starts now." The store owner spoke as he fired a ray of light from the device. A few seconds later he lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Max smiled happily as where the thief once stood was now a black pair of AND1 sneakers. One week's time under his feet should do it, he thought to himself as he took off his current shoes and put on the newly formed sneakers. They felt so good under on his feet. He should try more living inanimate objects more often, he thought.

Larry suddenly awoke to a slightly foul odor. He tried to get away from it but found himself completely unable to move on his own. He also felt himself wrapped around something that was causing him an intense measure of pain. He finally figured it out when he felt toes wiggling on his face. The foul smell was in fact the vinegar smell of sweaty socks. The pressure he felt was feet standing on and crushing his insole face. He was literally a pair of shoes. He knew exactly whose feet was wearing him, the store owner. He wanted to curse the guy out, but now all he wanted to do was be normal again. He didn't want to be footwear. Just standing still was very uncomfortable for him as sneakers. All of the store owner's weight bearing down on him, along with foot odor and sweat. He mentally pleaded for this to be some crazy dream, but it was his reality. A week's time as sneakers, he thought his mind might not survive it.

As Max continued to work, he decided to the thief really needed to learn a lesson that would be permanent. Since he stole from him, he would steal his humanity from the thief. He would keep him as his sneakers and treat him as the object on his feet. No more humanity for the thief. At least this way, he won't have to worry about him stealing from his store ever again. The next thief he catches just might be a pair of socks. If living inanimate objects felt this good, he just might have to get more. As for how the thief would feel about being shoes for the rest of his life, he didn't care how the guy felt about it. Shoes don't have any rights anyway.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #sneaker transformation

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one-idea · 27 days

Note

I love your wado ichimoji pov posts! Your only in whisky peak and show devotion well in an inanimate object well "my dumass son" (affectionately) *less than 2 weeks after starting to travel with others, the captain still believes after them losing badly*: I have 2 to protect now my son and a little king. What I'm really looking forward to 1. resignation at some point is that Sandai Kitetsu is going to continue to be here 2. the treasure trove of Timeskip on Mihawk's creepy would produce 3. sibling time with enma (Christ they have been made by the same person but wados going to be the only voice of reason between the 3).

Thank you so much!!! Sorry this took me a hot minute to respond to.

I really love that au and I want to work on it more.

As I am only in Thriller Bark I can’t speak in earnest about all of your ideas (yet) but I can hit one.

1. Wado excepting that Sandai Kitsune is here to stay.

They come to a begrudging understanding at the end of Whiskey Peak. Wado still doesn’t like Sandai and hopes Zoro gets ride of it, but at least Sandai has respect for the captain now.

It’s Alabaster where Zoro learns to cut steal when the two finally start to have a smidgen of respect for each other. After all Zoro uses all three blades to cut steal, if Sandai was truly a weak blade she would have broken by now.

Through Jaya and Skypia all three blades are focused on protecting Captain and crew. Gaining respect for some of the other crewmates (namely Robin) though throughout it all Wado is still waiting for Zoro to find a better sword.

It isn’t until Water 7 and Enies Lobby. When all three blades are in unity fighting to save one of their own. Because their King and Master wants the Archaeologist back. Because the King has lead them to an incredible fight, a test of their Skills. Because their King keeps asking them to do the impossible with total confidence that they can, they won’t let him down. (The sea train is going to be fun)

It isn’t until Yabashiri is destroyed that Wado realizes she wasn’t ready to lose either companion.

It’s been so long since she had traveled with companions who had voices. These were the first blades Zoro had, besides her, that had distinguishable voices. To hear one of those go out rattles both Wado and Sandai.

The rust man could have grabbed any of them but he grabbed Yabashiri. Her voice was gone. It takes sometime for both Wado and Sandai to come to terms with that.

While Wado is still annoyed with Sandai and her violent tendencies, she’s mellowed under Zoro’s care. Her bloodthirsty now matches his own. And while she does occasionally cry out for blood, it’s normally because of a threat to King or crew. She no longer calls for the blood of just anyone, only outside threats. Problem is those threats haven’t always attacked them yet. (Sandai’s more of a if we kill it before it can attack it can’t hurt them, sort of protector)

Wado and her still butt heads, but Sandai made it this far as a Grade blade, she’s not going anywhere soon.

Once in Thriller Bark, once they gain Shushi, another one of the 21 Great grade blades, a fully realized black blade, and Wado’s sibling to boot. Things get shaken up again.

Where Wado is motherly and protective of her dumb son’s dreams and loved ones. Aligned with Zoro in dream and crew, knowing him the longest and living up his values.

And Kitsune is Zoro’s bloodthirstiness. His violence but also protective fury. Zoro changed her from pure bloodshed to reflect his own violence. She reflects his more aggressive side.

Yabashiri was quite. One to follow Wado’s lead but still had its own personality. In that offered caution. She reflects Zoro’s observation. The ability to tell what is and isn’t a threat and when to act.

Shushi is different. Shushi already had a master take it to the full extent of its power. He is stronger and more durable. Increasing Zoro’s strength and forcing the others to rise to his level. Zoro cannot take this blade farther, rather he must rise to meet its strength and durability. Harding himself and his other blades to become the strong unbreakable protector of the crew.

Wado and Sandai are not (yet) black blades they can still grow and rise with Zoro’s power. Shushi is both a greatly needed boost and a challenge to rise to. He often thinks back on his prior master and compares Zoro to him. (He is quite pleased to be wielded by a descendent of his beloved Shimotsuki Ryuma)

Once I get to Zoro training with Mihawk I’ll talk more about them. But it’s going to be really fun to write all three swords interacting with Yoru. But it’s also going to be hard on Wado. Up until then Zoro favored her as his one sword style blade. But after his time with Mihawk it switches to Shushi. A stronger more durable blade. While the switch makes sense, I’m sure it was a hard transition for both Wado and Zoro. And I’m excited to write on it.

I am so excited to get to Wado and get Enma. It’s a needed change for Zoro to push forward. While Enma has great power on its own, it’s not yet a permanent black blade. There is still room to grow and strengthen along side Zoro. Shushi couldn’t grown anymore. Zoro had mastered it, he rose to the challenge and surpassed it. Now he needs to bring his own blades to the top.

(I really hope one of his blades becomes permanently black by the end of the show. I want it to be Wado)

Right now I’m in Thriller Bark, but the platform im watching on only has the show up to Marineford/ASL adventures so once I get through all of that, I will either rewatch all pre-time skip and start writing my Wado Ichimoji POV au and Reverse Strawhats while I wait for the platform to put up more episodes or I’ll crack and get a new subscription to watch post time skip. Only time will tell.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zolu #one piece zolu #wado ichimonji #wadi Ichimonji pov #sandai kitetsu #yabashiri #shushi #Enma

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faithinlouisfuture · 7 months

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👁️👄👁️ (x)

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson gifs #louis gifs #fitfwt gifs #my fitfwt content #louisupdates #louisprojectstracks #mindofwalls #louistomlinsoncouk #when inanimate objects are living your dream #damn #fitfwt: paris #all this time #top right killed me btw #flashing tw

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scarletwritesshit · 9 months

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🔪 Blade x Reader 🔪 Butter Knife

Mara struck and never dying. This is the fate that Blade had been bound to for all of eternity. To some, the dream of becoming immortal was simply that, and their desire to walk the planet forever seemed impossible to satisfy. To Blade, however, immortality was not a dream, as he knew all too well of the curse of a life physically impossible to be put to rest. He felt as if his time was up ages ago, and so he deeply desired to be put to rest one final time.

That isn’t saying that life was never worth living to him. Prior to this wretched curse, Blade felt as if he had a purpose, a reason to see each and every new day. He was a talented weapon artisan, whose blades were comparable to none. In regards to its value against one of Blade’s deadly pieces of art, a common sword was worth less than nothing.

Now, Blade’s own being had been degraded into that of an inanimate object, created with immense power but cannot be destroyed. He felt as if he had lost all sense of true purpose and reasoning for his existence, other than to strip others of their lives.

He fulfilled his reason for existing already, and now, he simply wanted to be put to rest.

Unable to be reach his life’s satisfying conclusion, as well as leaving behind his past as an artisan, he would have to find a new purpose through something, or rather, someone else.

You knew Blade long enough to have a thorough understanding of his demeanor. He wasn’t very talkative, and always had a rather off-putting scowl on his face. You had never genuinely seen him smile, yet you couldn’t blame him considering his rather unfortunate fate. Doomed to repeating a cycle of inescapable suffering with death itself not even showing him mercy would most certainly wear away at an individual.

Despite everything, you knew that deep down, the soul of Yingxing was very much alive within him. Under his ashen black exterior was a man who shone white with passion, desire, emotion. This could not be claimed to be a mere delusion of yours, either. A few times in the past, you had offered to part ways with Blade, feeling as if he has grown gravely tired of your presence. The response was always the same; a silent headshake upon your offering to leave. When further pressed as to why, he would respond with something akin to:

I have my reasoning.

Perhaps it was the same force that accounted for the tight-knit bond between the Stellaron Hunters. Something more than working under a title, though a bond unspoken, united them despite sheer differences in personality.

Though it was subtle, it was interesting how Blade seemed to display favoritism towards you. It was difficult to discern the reason, as he spoke little of those around him and even less of himself, but one thing that did set you apart from the other Hunters was your frequent inquiries of his well-being. He never once responded in a positive manner, and you’ve come to expect him to scoff at you every time, but it still never hurt to check in on him at least once in a while.

Somehow, you had to get through to Blade. Though it might take quite the generous effort, you were committed to making Blade feel like a living, breathing person again, not some regrettably conscious item.

No hobbies, he claimed to have, so it was not difficult to find him standing around without a sense of belonging. It was rather convenient for you when you desired to speak with him, but you couldn’t help but yearn to see him engrossed in a beloved activity of his own, whether it be craftsmanship or a newfound hobby of his. You approached Blade and gave him a gentle tug on the side of his jacket to grab his attention. With his usual quiet “hmm?”, Blade turned his head to the side to look at you gently pulling on him.

"You don’t seem preoccupied, Blade," you said to him.

"As usual," he responded coldly. "What do you want?"

"Nothing in particular, as I just wanted to check on you. That’s all."

Blade snarled and turned his head away, crossing his arms. "My response is the same, yet you still insist on inquiring. How very peculiar."

"Someone has to. You’re one of us, after all.”

"You’re practically asking if a sword if it has feelings."

"And this 'blade' has a tongue sharper than a dagger just to close himself off from others, and for what?"

"It does not concern you."

"I think it does, Blade. I feel as if you’re being rather dishonest, with yourself more than with others."

He didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even look back at you to acknowledge your statement. Blade’s arms stayed crossed and his attention remained diverted.

"You claim yourself to be a mentally deceased weapon, yet I know for a fact that you are hiding a caring man.”

He still didn’t respond, not even showing signs of hearing your words.

"You haven’t shooed that little Silver Wolf away, and you keep insisting on me being by your side despite the obvious hinderances I pose. I truly do not think that you are as awful as you claim to be.”

Though this got somewhat of a reaction out of Blade, as he glanced over his shoulder and looked at you curiously, he still blatantly refused to speak to you on any matter regarding himself. Was he not accepting of who he may be, or perhaps it was simply utter disbelief of your claims? The only way to find out was to pry the truth out of his cold hands, even if a bit of gentle force was required.

"You can scoff and sigh at me all you want, but I’m not going away any time soon."

"You hardly have a choice,” he said, once again averting his gaze.

"And why is that?"

"I can’t let you leave."

"Or is it that you don’t want me to leave?" you said, grabbing his bandaged hand. "Because I don’t plan on it anyways."

Blade couldn’t subdue his reaction this time. He looked at your hand, eyes wide with surprise and mouth agape, clearly thrown off guard and having a difficult time suppressing his feelings. He seemed to want to yank his hand out of your grasp, yet some invisible force was preventing him.

"Told you so," you proudly declared.

Blade, still visibly surprised, once again looked away, yet still continued to speak.

"You…can let go of me now…" he said, voice trailing off.

"But why would I do that when you don’t want me to?"

"I never meant physically taking hold of me."

"Yet you still haven’t pulled your hand away even though you can do so if you desired. Bladie, you need to stop acting so cold. You’d feel better if you dropped the steel-tempered act."

"But weapons should not feel, yet I am experiencing some sort of warmth inside of me."

"It’s your hand. You’ve spent so much time with your edges soaked in fresh, warm blood that you have failed to realize that you have grown to be as cold as a butter knife."

Perhaps in an attempt to better understand what he was feeling, Blade pulled you in front of him so that he may use his free arm to pull you close to his body. He was greatly restraining his immense strength, yet holding you tight enough so that you may not slip out. He remained silent for a few moments, assessing this strangely familiar yet new feeling that burned within him. You had gotten used to his bouts of silence, though something about his sudden thoughtfulness felt different than the times before.

"I...think I understand what you mean," he finally said.

With your face still shoved in his coat, you managed to look up in order to inquire as to what he meant.

A man of few words he was, whose actions spoke louder than words. You noticed that his scowl had softened, and his eyes had a light in them as if a new passion had been ignited within him.

"Perhaps this is selfish of me to say, but this feeling...it must be what it’s like to truly feel alive again. I never realized how warm you were…or perhaps it’s the side effects of a frozen heart melting once more.”

“You…feel alive again?”

Blade's hold on your body grew tighter, but he fell silent once more. Given his poor self-image, he seemed reluctant to be fully honest regarding what he was experiencing, and what his heart yearned for.

"Bladie, what do you mean by that?" you asked.

"It’s something that I had only felt once long ago with another person. Now, it is rather unfamiliar to me in my present state, yet at the same time, it is a recognizable feeling that I’ve been silently longing for."

"Companionship? Affection?"

"...The desire to be held not as a weapon, but as a beloved companion."

A desire that could so easily fulfilled by you, as you wiggled yourself ever so slightly to loosen his grip on you to allow for you to engulf him in a hug. Blade didn’t reject your gesture, though he was frozen in place, shy about indulging himself in something he believed to be so self-centered. He quickly realized that you truly have no intention of letting go, even after he loosened his grip to allow you to slip free if you so desired. Eventually, he gave in and rested his head against your hair.

"...Haven’t felt this way since I knew her long ago," he admitted.

"Do you understand now, Blade? Sheets of steel and stone don’t feel these kinds of emotions. That’s what sets your flesh and blood apart from a mere sword."

"Our purpose serves the same, however."

"You’ve told yourself that lie so much that it has created a delusion of truth within your mind. Your hands may not be meant for forging anymore, but that grants you the freedom to discover a new purpose…a new reason for you to carry on with life.”

"...Could you serve as my purpose, at least for the time being?"

"I’ll always be by your side as your reason to carry on, Yingxing."

"Now that’s a name I haven’t been called in years," he said, smiling a little.

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #blade x reader #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

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lifessoshortandsoami · 9 months

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Incorrect Quotes #2

Luna: *nudges Namjoon at 3am* Pretty messed up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Joonie? Wake up, Joonie! Listen! They're genderless!

Namjoon: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.

J-Hope: Namjoon is speaking some kind of French.

Luna: Let me handle it, I know Spanish. It's the same thing.

Luna: Hold on! I'm having one of those things... a headache with pictures.

Yoongi: What the fuck?

Namjoon: She's having an idea.

Jimin: A butterfly! Hey, little guy, gal or nonbinary pal!

Taehyung: Can a butterfly be nonbinary?

Jimin: I mean, maybe? I don't judge.

Luna, staring dreamily out of the window: Ah, have you ever imagine having butterfly wings? Then-

Yoongi: Then it would be inconvenient as fuck. Your wings would smack every doorframe and your clothes would have to have holes in the back.

Jungkook: Also, your wing's paper thin, so even a six year old aimed a NERF gun at it would... Yeah...

Namjoon, sipping coffee: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a-

Luna: No, no no no no. You all have already shattered my dream, you don't get the privilege to make that reference.

J-Hope: Also, isn't it about a bee, not a butterfly...? Why would you make that reference?

Jin: You clearly have not lived with them long enough.

Luna: What are you in the mood for?

Jungkook: World domination.

Luna: That's a bit ambitious.

Jungkook: You are my world.

Luna: Aww...

Jungkook:

Luna:

Jungkook:

Luna: OH.

Jimin: I can't do this stupid math!

Jin: What's the math problem?

Jimin: Well, we have to add the bed, subtract the clothes, devide the legs and hope we don't multiply.

*Namjoon covering Luna's ears, while Jin smacks Jimin upside the head*

Yoongi out of nowhere: Not going to lie that was hella smooth

Jungkook: I'm this close to falling in love with Aera

J-hope: Your fingertips are touching

Jungkook: Exactly.

Luna: Why doesn't Jungkook find me sexy when I bite my lip?

Jimin: What do you look like when you bite your lip?

Luna: *bites lip*

Jimin: ...Have you considered biting your bottom lip instead?

*Luna trying to hold in her laughter coming out of the kitchen where Jin was*

Luna: Hey Namjoon oppa, how do you ask a glass of water what's it doing?

Namjoon: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language.

Luna: ...Water you doing?

Luna: *cowering in fear* What do you want from me?!

Taehyung: *bites into the whole KitKat bar like a heather*

Luna: *crying* Please... Stop

Luna: Oooh A plane!!!

Namjoon: We're in an airport Aera...

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phnmnt · 2 years

Text

Shen Yuan shixiong AU - Part 20

Shen Yuan is the first to take a step inside the gates, Luo Binghe following him closely. But the latter is distracted. Why… did he find the city so familiar? Shen Yuan slows his pace without saying a word, knowing full well what his shidi was thinking.

He looks around him, trying to remember what the original novel described about the place. Shen Yuan quickly discovers that Airplane had the imagination to create such a place, but lacked the words to describe it. The scenery was creepily realistic. Nothing like a typical dream where everything was fuzzy and lacked details. And the people were… odd. They walked around like mindless husks, their pace slow and heavy. One passes by them and Shen Yuan can feel his heart almost flying out of his ribcage. That person was faceless. No eyes, mouth or nose. And they were completely silent.

Shen Yuan can feel Luo Binghe’s own uneasiness without looking at him. “Shixiong, why do they all look like that?” His shidi’s voice is breathless and Shen Yuan grabs his hand without thinking, a strange kind of electric shock climbing his arm when Luo Binghe tightens the hold. “No one with the ability to control others’ dreams can recreate living beings with precision, especially crowds like this. It’s easy to do so with inanimate objects since they do not move, but people and animals all have different personalities. Think of it as a single actor playing the roles of all the characters present in a play, all at once. However…” Shen Yuan stops walking and turns to face his shidi. “However, I can think of one person, a demon elder, who might be powerful and talented enough to do so. He is known as Meng Mo.” Luo Binghe stares curiously at his shixiong. “Meng Mo?” Shen Yuan nods and proceeds to explain who Meng Mo is.

The demon elder used to be famous for his brillant mind and talent. But too much power often attracts divine punishment and he lost his physical body long ago, leaving only his powerful spirit to wander. Now, he lived like a parasite, absorbing his hosts' spiritual energy. Shen Yuan finishes explaining with a sigh. Just as he is about to resume walking, he sees Luo Binghe freeze with a surprised but confused look. So the fun part is finally starting…

Indeed, Luo Binghe had recognized someone in the crowd, making him forget the questions he wanted to ask his shixiong. Shen Yuan returns to his clueless side character role and asks him what’s wrong. “Shixiong, those people have faces!” Of course they have faces, they are… Luo Binghe lets go of his hand, passing by him and intending to tail the group of people with faces. Feeling somewhat complicated about being abandoned this easily, Shen Yuan follows along.

They follow the group turns after turns until they reach a small dirty alley. The next thing he knows, a small child is mercilessly getting kicked black and blue right before their eyes. The group of bullies laugh and spit, ignoring them entirely. Shen Yuan knows who the child is. He takes a peek at his shidi. Sure enough, the latter is motionless, his eyes fixed on the small and frail body. Even if Shen Yuan had predicted it, he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. Because it wasn’t just a dream. It was Luo Binghe’s memories. “Shidi, Meng Mo is only trying to get to you-” Shen Yuan suddenly feels a boiling pressure coming from Luo Binghe, also burning him when he tries to grab his shidi’s again once more. He backs off, feeling more emotionally hurt than anything else. “Binghe! Listen to me! This is just a dream! Don’t let your emotions control you!”

But Luo Binghe wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were rapidly turning red, making him blind to anything else but his inner demons taking root in his heart. His shidi hadn’t woken his demon blood yet and wasn’t strong enough to resist such a strong offense from the dream demon. Without warning, the alley changes into another scene. Meng Mo obviously decided to strike while the iron was hot, not sparing Luo Binghe in any way. Shen Yuan hardly has the time to process the following memory. He did know how Luo Binghe’s adoptive mother died but… Actually seeing it was a completely different thing. He can’t fathom how his shidi must be feeling now. Shen Yuan tries to call his name a few times, but Luo Binghe seems to be slowly sinking into a maelstrom of despair, not hearing him. Powerless, Shen Yuan can only watch as the scenery shifts to another.

Then another. The more Luo Binghe sees, the more Shen Yuan suffocates, barely able to stand the pressure of his shidi’s inner demons. The scene changes again. It changes to a vast natural mountain hall. One that Shen Yuan knows far too well to ever forget. This is a place where holes were dug every time Cang Qiong Mountain opened its gate to new disciples. It's where he himself dug holes for half a day before being accepted as Shen Qingqiu’s first disciple: Qing Jing Peak hall. In the memory, shadows of small kids and teenagers are scattered everywhere, frozen in digging motion. The only one actually moving is kneeling at the far back. Seeing him, Shen Yuan’s heart softens. It’s Luo Binghe, the day he was also accepted as Shen Qingqiu’s disciple. How small he was… All of a sudden, the pressure coming from his shidi goes completely still.

That’s when he hears a very familiar voice. “Shizun, this disciple agrees with shimei. Let’s give the boy a chance. I believe he has potential.” His own voice. A younger version of himself is standing next to Shen Qingqiu, holding the hand of a young Ning Yingying who is looking at the small boy with curiosity. “Shi… xiong…” Luo Binghe’s eyes flicker. Shen Yuan, knowing this was his only window to bring back his shidi, is about to answer him when everything suddenly goes dark. "Binghe! Those are your-"

Yet another scene appears and the pressure comes back even stronger than before, stopping his next words from leaving his mouth. Shen Yuan clicks his tongue. He can barely see and his whole body feels terribly heavy. He spends all his remaining strenght trying to figure out what this scene was about. Their shizun. Poisonous words. A fight. A feeling of rage is floating all around... Shen Yuan is violently thrown out of the memory. He can... he can finally breathe. But when he looks up again, he knows the situation is very far from being ideal. Luo Binghe was standing in front of shadowy figures, more illusions made by Meng Mo, looking ready to attack them. And he does. Over and over. Madly.

The next thing he knows, Shen Yuan is holding his shidi by the shoulders, preventing him from throwing himself on the illusions. “BINGHE, STOP! YOU’LL DESTROY YOUR OWN MIND!” But it’s useless. Luo Binghe’s blood is boiling and he easily slips from his shixiong’s grip, attacking left and right once more. So Shen Yuan does the only thing he can do. He shields. With his own body. He receives the blows directly to the chest and knows that if it wasn’t for the dream realm, he’d have vomited mouthfuls of blood. He gently but firmly grabs his shidi’s elbow that was still pointed at his chest, half to make physical contact with his shidi and half in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Instantly, Luo Binghe’s mind clears and he freezes, his restrained elbow still pointed at his shixiong’s chest. He stares blanky at Shen Yuan, who looks like he would fall to the ground with a single breath. In the corner of his vision, he can see the remnants of spiritual power he had used to attack. His mind finishes sobering up, the vague memory of what he just did acting like a cold shower, turning his face stark white. In panic, he goes to support his shixiong. “Shixiong! Why didn’t you hit back?!” Regret and worry could be heard in his trembling voice and fat tears were already forming in his eyes, wetting his eyelashes in a very beautiful way. Shen Yuan smiles. “Foolish child… The point was to ensure you wouldn’t be injured. And… shixiong would never hurt you in the first place.” Luo Binghe protests in between sobs. He knows his shixiong. The latter was the one who took care of him as soon as he entered the sect, teaching him and bandaging his many scratches and wounds, never losing patience with him. Since day one, His shixiong never stopped working and taking care of others, pushing himself to the limit. He already collapsed once, and, while he was supposed to be recuperating, got injured for his sake after those three matches against the Demon Realm. Now, barely a day had passed and his shixiong was hurt again. And this time by his own hand!

Seeing his shidi’s cheeks transforming into two endless rivers of tears, Shen Yuan wipes one of them soothingly, feeling as if his heart has been stabbed with a knife. (“Airplane, one day I will make you regret making Luo Binghe go through all of this.”) “Binghe, listen to me. There is absolutely no scenario where I would willingly allow you to feel pain. The day- The day you became my shidi, I vowed to myself that I would protect you. And I refuse to break this promise. You have more than potential, Binghe. You have heart and passion. And shixiong will always be there to make sure it can only keep on growing." Luo Binghe felt breathless. He couldn’t look away. He could feel a scalding current of energy coursing throught his veins, running all the way up to his heart. And something… finally clicks in his mind. A simple word finally anchors all his thoughts safely, forming a beautiful web of cherished memories and feelings, settling his previous chaotic emotions.

Love. Luo Binghe had fallen in love with his shixiong.

Shen Yuan, having no idea what kind of revelation his shidi was currently having, sees that Luo Binghe’s tears has stopped and takes a teasing tone. “Besides, shixiong can take a beating. I wouldn’t be Shen Qingqiu’s first disciple otherwise. Shidi shouldn’t blame himself. What is a scar or two if it means I protected those I cherish?” He lets his body lean on Luo Binghe, his knees threatening to give out, completely missing the odd expression at the mention of scars. “However, the ways of demons are extremely unpredictable and hard to guard against. If you don’t want to run into the same kind of trouble in the future, you must keep training to become stronger.”

Luo Binghe simply locks gazes with him. His dark, deep eyes make Shen Yuan feel like he was falling in a pool of stars, where hopes and dreams where still safely craddled… and something else. But Shen Yuan can’t put his finger on it. All he knows is that he can feel a tension in his limbs, his heart going crazy under the intense gaze. “I understand.” Luo Binghe tightens his hold on his shixiong’s body with no intention of letting go. “I definitely won’t let it happen a second time.”

But Shen Yuan already stopped listening to him. In his mind, he is holding the system by the throat, shaking it back and forth with anger. Why is he the one stuck with this script?! It makes no sense! Being hit by the protagonist beam was no joke and his poor heart couldn’t take it. Shen Yuan wanted to force feed the system the butterflies stuck in his stomach in revenge. In reality, only a beat of silence endures before he opens his mouth once more. “But shixiong thinks it’s fine if shidi doesn’t become strong. In the end, whether you achieve getting stronger or not, shixiong will stay by your side and protect you as long as it is needed.” A lifetime? Easily done if that meant he could stay alive... as his shidi’s mentor? Ally? Something like that.

Shen Yuan had no idea of the effect these word had on the young Luo Binghe. The latter silently turns his burning face away, trying to control his rapidely growing feelings and scolding himself for being innapropriate in such a situation. They were still stuck in his dream afterall.

At long last, as if feeling what Luo Binghe was thinking, Meng Mo's shadow appears in front of them. Shen Yuan can feel himself relax at once. If the demon elder was here, it meant that the scenario was about to reach its conclusion. Sure enough, hardly a few lines where exchanged that Shen Yuan was sent into a dream within the dream, completely collapsing in Luo Binghe’s arms. “Shixiong!”

While Shen Yuan was forcibly falling into another kind of dream, Meng Mo quickly (and frustratingly) discovers that most of the boy’s thoughts were linked to this very annoying and weak person Luo Binghe wouldn’t even let go of. But the boy was loyal and had a very strong resolve. Meng Mo casually reveals the presence of something remarkable hidden within Luo Binghe’s body, something linked to the demon race, thoroughly shocking him for a small moment. When Luo Binghe asks him if it’s possible to remove that mysterious hidden power, the demon elder tells him that probably nobody could do it, given how it wouldn’t even reveal itself to him, and takes the opportunity to try to recruit him as his disciple.

However, the offer of cultivating the demonic path doesn’t appeal to Luo Binghe at all. But Meng Mo is relentless, and he quickly changes tactics after looking at the person cradled in the boy’s arms. “Not only would the demonic path help you control that thing in your body, give you benefits to your cultivation that normal people can only dream of, but you could also leap a thousand steps a day and stand above the masses. You could protect him.” Meng Mo can see Luo Binghe wavering at those words. That shixiong of his was a nuisance, but if he had to keep him alive to please the boy, might as well use his existance. After all, a mere memory of him had the power to calm the boy’s mind, almost breaking the illusion completely.

To his surprise, Luo Binghe refuses once more. After a few back and forth, Meng Mo finds himself losing his grip on the negociations. The boy had more spine and brains than he initially thought… “This elder will give you time, so think through it carefully. Otherwise, I’ll trap your and your shixiong’s consciousnesses within the dream realm forever.” It was the wrong thing to say. Luo Binghe’s head snaps up, a cold and intimidating light flashing in his eyes. “If you harm shixiong, any potential agreement is void!” Meng Mo simply answers with a bellowing laughter, now pleseantly intrigued. “Boy, you really have quite the temper!” And everything returns to darkness.

Luo Binghe wakes up with a start, his body drenched with cold sweat. On the other side of the room, he hears his shixiong waking up just as abruptly with a gasp. He quickly kicks his covers, getting out of bed. “Shixiong!” He sees the latter turn to him with a green face, looking positively about to throw up. As he is making his way to him, Luo Binghe grabs a random pot by the table and hands it to him.

The system chooses this moment to ding, being appropriate as always. “Congratulations on completing the scenario ‘Meng Mo’s Barrier’! The system awards you +500pts! Please continue to work hard!” Shen Yuan sends it his signature middle finger gesture, promising himself to fight with it later. It didn’t even give him anything for taking a whole ass poisoned armor as he was protecting his shidi earlier. This dumbass system…

A few gentle pats on his back bring him back to reality. “Shixiong, do you feel unwell?” Shen Yuan offers him a small smile. “Shixiong will be fine. Just… exhausted.” Not letting his shidi fall into his white lotus habits, he quickly changes the subject. “Did that Meng Mo give you any trouble? Let this shixiong examine you.” Luo Binghe freezes, hesitant. But Shen Yuan looked as if he wouldn’t take “no” as an answer and he slowly presented his wrist to him. Thankfully, the examination didn’t reveal Meng Mo’s presence and his shixiong nods, satisfied. Inside, Shen Yuan knows that the demon elder didn’t leave, and simply checks his shidi’s general condition. Everything was normal besides a slightly faster than usual heartbeat, which could easily be explained considering what they just went through.

Luo Binghe takes back his wrist, a complicated look on his face. Shen Yuan already knows what this is about. “Shidi, is something wrong?” Luo Binghe hesitates, opening and closing his mouth many times before making up his mind. “Shixiong, demons… are they all wicked beyond redemption? Must every last one of them be exterminated like shizun said?” Shen Yuan looks down, looking as if he was pondering the question. "There are good and bad humans. So demons must also have good and evil individuals. What we see is often only a small part of the bigger picture. If we only look at how demons victimized our people, we’ll never see the cases where humans harmed innocent demons. The line seperating our two people isn’t one based on race, but rather on tolerance. Don’t think too much about it and follow your heart, en? I- Oh…"

Shen Yuan vision flashes. Damn it. His exhaustion is catching up on him. Closely watching him, Luo Binghe feels his heart sink, seeing that his shixiong was barely able to stay awake while answering his questions. “Shixiong-“ His words die in his throat when he realises that the man had already fallen asleep while sitting. After letting out a sigh, Luo Binghe gently helps him lay back down on the bed, intending to let him sleep after everything that happened.

As he is tucking the second arm under the cover, his gaze travels upward and stops on the face scar his shixiong obtained while protecting him. In a daze, he reaches for it. His fingers gently touches the warm red scarred skin and he let them slide from the upper part of it to the bottom, right next to his shixiong’s adam’s apple. His whole hand was tingling, provoking the dangerous vortex of feelings hidden inside his heart, and he can feel his whole body tipping forward. His instincts taking over, he closes his eyes. With trembling lips, Luo Binghe tentatively kisses the middle of the scar, slightly under his shixiong’s right jaw. “Shixiong…”

A second passes. Then, it hits him. Horrified by his own scandalous action, he jumps back, almost falling down the bed. His whole face is burning and panic taking over his mind. H- How could he-? Even if he feels- At that exact moment, Shen Yuan half opens his eyes, throwing Luo Binghe’s mind and heart in a state of despair. But the former simply gazes at his shidi’s face with a blank expression before dragging him in bed with him while mumbling a few words. “…Sleep. Don’t… be scared… Sleep, shixiong… will protect… you…” Shen Yuan falls right back to sleep with a contented expression. Now only able to hear the loud beating of his own frantic heart, Luo Binghe tries to slip from his shixiong’s embrace, but soon finds it to be an impossible feat. This was going to be a long night…

// CUT (IF YOU ARE 18+, I GOT A SURPRISE FOR U ♥) Shen Yuan shixiong AU - PART 20 EXTRA (CW: Underage, non-explicit sexual content) Text: >> https://privatter.net/p/9271134 << Art: >> https://privatter.net/i/6868476 << END OF CUT //

The morning after, Shen Qingqiu comes to check on his first disciple. He opens the door, never expecting to come face to face with this unlikable disciple of his instead of his prized pupil. “What are you doing here?” Luo Binghe bows with respect. He is about to answer when Shen Yuan steps out from behind the screen by his bed, presenting a refreshed and calm expression. “Shizun, I found out shidi lost his room and a younger shidi took his place not long after.” Knowing it was his shizun’s fault but didn’t wish to antagonize or humiliate him, he decides to add another sentence to spare him. “There must have been a mistake with management, so I resolved the issue right away by letting him room with me. Shizun doesn’t have to worry, I paid for the second bed with my own money.” Shen Yuan could feel his shizun’s fury meter climbing steadily and instantly shuts up.

An awkward silence follows and Shen Qingqiu closes his eyes, his tensed jaw hidden behind his opened fan, attempting to calm his anger. “… How long?” Shen Yuan blinks, confused. “Huh?” “How long has this been going on?” Shen Qingqiu spells it out slowly, barely able to keep himself from jumping on the smaller boy who was taking advantage of his first disciple. “Um… A while?” “How. LONG.” “A- About a year? Maybe more?” Both Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan can feel the whole room go cold. Under Shen Yuan’s explanations and persistance, Shen Qingqiu miraculously ends up agreeing to the situation, not without making Luo Binghe feel his killing intent.

Strangely, Luo Binghe doesn’t flinch from beginning to end, looking directly at their master with a steady gaze. Shen Yuan pushes his shizun out of the small room, wanting to prevent any sparks from creating a fire, while promising him to follow in a minute and enjoy some fresh air together. Shen Yuan closes the door behind him, letting out a sigh. “We’ll have to wait for a while before asking now…” Luo Binghe looks at the spreaded map on the table, his expression unreadable. Shen Yuan shakes his head, feeling a bit depressed. “I’m so sorry about this, Binghe. Shizun can be… well, shizun.” “Mn. This shidi knows. I can wait.” Shen Yuan folds his arms, then starts rubbing his chin in a pensive way. “Shixiong will slowly warm shizun to the idea. Shidi-“ “Will train as usual and be patient.” They both lock eyes and Luo Binghe smiles.

Reassured, Shen Yuan lets out a small laugh before waving his hand and exiting the room, leaving Luo Binghe alone in their shared space. The latter sits down in front of the map, letting out the nervous breath he had kept in since his shixiong had woken up. His eyes travel along the many black lines they had drawn lazily on the thin piece of rice paper. He could still hear his shixiong excited voice when he had circled areas he wanted to visit. Places where spiritual plants grew in abundance and rare creatures lived.

Soon, Luo Binghe would travel out of the sect, bringing his shixiong with him.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 8.5 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 -Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #shen yuan #luo binghe #sy shixiong au #phansdraws #so much food #i know #you guys let me know what you think!!!!

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Colorado

TW: Smut. Language.

SUMMARY: Vacationing in Colorado with the Outer Banks Cast and a few other friends brings tensions to an apex when Drew gets jealous and decides to act on his once secret desires…

WORD COUNT: 2200

*Requested*

Colorado

You had earned this. After completing yet another grueling season of Outer Banks, the cast had decided to take a vacation to get away from the intense heat throughout the Carolinas and Barbados. It was a trip you had been looking forward to to such a degree that you counted down the days on your calendar and had been packed weeks in advance just to see the suitcases set beside your door for the upcoming endeavor. And now, you were finally crossing over the threshold of the Airbnb, breathless to how it appeared even more beautiful in person than through the handful of pictures offered by the website.

A large fireplace dividing the dining room from the living room interrupted the far west wall that overlooked the range of mountains that were well beyond the closeness in which they appeared. A gorgeous kitchen adorned with anything you would ever need and colored a gorgeous matte black with appliances complimenting it in silver. Not to mention the bedrooms that were accented with the perfect amount of decor to appear individualized and crafted with care and not appear too gaudy. But the details you had come to bask were not exactly the towel warmer in the bathroom, although JD and Rudy couldn’t stop talking about it, or the personal gym and sauna separated by a set of stairs as doted on by Austin and Chase. Instead, your most sought out detail in which you’d dreamed of had been the pool and adjoining hot tub that beckoned to your aching nerves after spending far too long on a flight in a space way too tight, all in the thought of this release.

Your suitcase was only half unpacked to get to the swimsuit laid beneath your other clothes. Left disheveled in the room all your own, you were pulling your hair into a ponytail as Madelyn and Madison joined you, quickly followed by Carlacia.

“Damn, you’re not wasting any time…” Laci commented as you gavea soft chuckle.

“You have no IDEA how long I’ve been waiting for this!” You explained while running your hands down your neck and pulling your head back for a moment in a fleeting stretch as you were joined by a stowaway of sorts. A young up and coming star like most on the cast list for Outer Banks, he was someone you never really paid much attention to as your focus had been on that beckoning water.

“There are other ways to de-stress, you know.” He joked as you gave a polite smile before he descended his eyes down your curves and the little the bikini kept withheld.

“But Laci’s right about the ‘damn’...I mean day-um!” You laughed this off as he was constant flirt with absolutely every one, which meant you couldn’t take him too seriously. Literally everyone. The airline stewardess, the woman behind the counter at the gas station as you had to get a lyft from the airport to the rented vacation house, and even the neighbor next door who was at too far at a distance to reciprocate his wave. But even if he wasn’t exactly a close friend by any means, he was an addition for humor alone. At least for everyone but Drew, who loathed the way he looked at you-how anyone else looked at you.

“I’m gonna go for it…” He spoke to Drew, taking his narrowed glare to a lesser tension while you made your way outside and into the pool just out of his peripheral vision. “She totally wants me, she just is playing hard to get…”

“You sure about that?” Drew questioned, drawing a beer to his lips while his eyes cast out the window to note how you moved into the water, a sudden jealousy for the inanimate objects allowed to touch you as he was forced at bay. From his own stubbornness mind you, but enough to still make him clench his teeth.

“I mean the worst she can do is laugh, right?” He shrugged as Drew took something from his words. What WAS he waiting for? You two were close enough to catch longing glances from across the room that were always interrupted and never spoken of. But now, with someone else on the playing field, he was desperate for you to know as his jealousy reached new heights as both men looked at you.

“I mean…shit, look at her…” He tried to appear indifferent, but you were a goddess in every form. Confident and beautiful, a vibe that radiated in everything you chose to do-not to mention how talented and hard-working you were, which he adored and found synonymous to his own attributes. And so with that, he decided to finally act on his desires. And yet, finding the right moment was difficult.

Beneath the guise of your sunglasses, you watched him as he had made his way outside, sitting on one of the chairs directed at the pool, altering his focus between the stone encasing the water and that of the girls basking within it.

“He’s looking at you…” Madelyn teased, doing so to be unheard by Drew but loud enough to make the other girls laugh around you.

“Isn’t he always?” Madison added as you rolled your eyes before deciding you’d had enough of the water.

Making your way back inside, now wrapped in a towel, you motioned to the bathroom, before preparing the shower and slipping beneath its welcoming heat. Driving your hands over the curves of your shoulders and the naked skin of your bare torso, you wouldn’t notice the bathroom door coming open as your eyes closed to relish in the heavenly water. It also didn’t phase you once the shower door came open as you had begun to hum one of those irritating songs that played from Chase’s phone that had been forced into your memory. It was only when a set of fingers climbed your hips that you breathed a sigh of relief.

This relief came from the familiarity of those fingers you knew well. Not because they had rested on your frame in any instance prior to this, but because you wished they had. And so without a need to turn around for even a moment, he validated his identity in the kiss made to your shoulder, which drove your hand to crane in appreciation to feel the cut of his hair.

“About time, Starkey…” He bit playfully into your shoulder before returning to those tender kisses that were certain to leave slight bruising by the way he devoured your skin and his hands descended what was so openly available to him. And for every times he had refrained from doing so in situations where your body was so close, he would savor it now.

“Is this okay?” He asked while trailing his middle finger down your hip and curving it into your thigh as you nodded while his second hand made a sash against your chest, bringing you against him enough to feel his naked body at one with your own. His breath was sudden against your ear.

“Good-because I won’t ask again…” He used that second hand to interlace your fingers before pressing your palm flat upon the shower wall while his dominant hand increased its speed.

“Do you have ANY idea the effect that little bikini has on people?” You smirked before feeling his ringed finger penetrate you, soliciting a gasp and moan of approval from your lips.

“Everyone was looking at you…” Your head would fall back against his shoulder as he brought a second finger inside of you, your body reacting with excitement as he could feel you clench around his digits.

“I only want you to…” You were forced to face him, pushed up against the wall, and lifted with one leg bent at his hip.

“I always am.” You knew this as you had caught him a handful of times in a stare that you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been strictly from a busy mind in a daze at your happenstance positioning. But knowing this now only stroked your ego.

“But you know I’m not the only one…” He explained, returning his fingers between your folds as you moved against him immediately, needing that release that only his touch could supply, all while you continued to ride yourself into his palm.

You nodded to his words as he set his forehead against yours, breathing in the short breaths from your parted lips as if some sort of trophy.

“And I couldn’t take him watching you like that…Seeing everything he wanted to do…all the things I want to do-” His words pulled your lips into a devilish smirk that incited a challenge.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He would respond by pulling you off of your feet and against the shower wall, your back colliding to the cold tile as it forced your back into an arch.

“I want you to feel every inch of what you do to me-slowly…” He explained while leading his cock at a tease between your folds, taking in your slick against his dick’s head, before finally applying pressure of his insertion. A silent moan forced your lips apart as he would pull his hand to the back of your neck while the other came to a rest on the wall at your side.

“Slowly…” He spoke more in validation for himself as your back arched once more as your nails ate into his shoulder as his pace began to build in slow succession.

“God-” He growled against you, fingers now at your hips as his pace became unruly, ungodly, unstoppable. The sounds of skin-to-skin contact made in this battering had deepened your pleasure as he would allow his desire to take over his usual compassion. This lasted until eventually he needed a grip that the shower no longer allowed.

Your back collided with the bed in seconds as he was quickly intertwined within you, kisses now strictly carnal and thrusts returned to that murderous speed. The sound of your name had never sounded as sweet than at this moment from his lips as he continued still, lifting your hips higher so he could delve even deeper, eyes locked to yours until they rolled back in pleasure, and the final lift of your back into an arch as he pulled that orgasm signed by his own.

Yet, the lustful initiation behind his eyes was not fulfilled as he would then pull you to the edge of the bed, legs set over his shoulders.

“Drew…” You laughed, aware the overstimulation would make you cry out as a banshee, something he wished for as he took his tongue between your lower lips. Your fingers ran the length of his head, clawing softly as you pulled him even deeper into you as your hips rolled without a chance of controlling them.

“Fuck!”

“Come for me..” He spoke quickly. “Right now-” His breathless command set you to rest on your palms as you nodded, curling your fingers to the sheets behind you, as you bucked against his tongue, that was all too eager to claim his reward.

“Was that everything you wanted to do?” You teased him as he kissed your lips in appreciation before shaking his head.

“Not even close.” You scoffed before watching him draw a line on your neck using the pad of his finger.

“I didn’t know you were the jealous type…” He blushed for a moment behind his lust blown expression before smirking.

“It doesn’t matter now…”

“What do you mean?” You chuckled.

“Well…there isn’t an inch of your skin that isn’t marked by my kiss…you’re overstimulated and dripping with me-not to mention the just-fucked hair and swollen lips…Completely beautiful…” You kissed him in appreciation as he pulled his shirt around your torso. “And I want you to go show them-”

“Drew…” His hand moved to your cheek, fingers running slowly to the back of your hair, where he would tug ever so slightly to claim dominance.

“I want HIM to see. And then I want you to come back to me so I can make you come every way I’ve thought of since we first met…All while he’s left listening to how good I’m gonna make you scream for me…”

You kissed him one final time before moving to your feet and hesitating in the frame of the door.

“Drew?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this…is this just a ‘Colorado’ thing?” To this, he stood, walking towards you as you couldn't help but admire his physique; bronzed and understandably arrogant for what he had cared for and brought to this muscular tone with an impressive amount of self discipline.

“A Colorado thing?”

“Like the second we step foot back in South Carolina that it didn’ happen…kind of thing?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart,” Your stomach twisted in the upcoming blow to this having been something he just needed to get out of his system as you slowly nodded before he continued, “But I intend on making you mine every way you’ll let me…And then the way’s I want to…” He smacked your ass as he turned you to leave. “Now go show them how beautiful you look all marked up by me…”

Taglist:@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drewstarkey #drew starkey #outerbanks smut #obx #outer banks

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honorarybuckley · 1 year

Text

6x11 coda

buck’s new couch is wrong. eddie’s not sure he’s ever described an inanimate object as right or wrong before but there is no other word to convey his feelings for the new piece of furniture.

it’s too big for the space, overpowering the room and forcing buck to remove his beloved chair entirely. it doesn’t match any of the other decor in the loft, and the fabric is soft and plush but the couch itself is stiff, wholly uncomfortable, and uninviting. so yeah, it’s all wrong.

at the tail end of his recovery period, buck had finally convinced his parents to return home and back to their regular lives, their continued presence having become stifling after the first week or so. while they were here eddie thought it best to keep his distance. he has done his best to be supportive, knowing how much buck craves a good relationship with them, but there’s still something about the buckley parents that rubs eddie the wrong way no matter how much they appear to have changed. the image of buck’s face the last time they were here is etched in his memory and makes him more than a little protective over his friend’s happiness.

it’s not the only reason he’s been distant though if he’s being honest. sometimes when he closes his eyes he still sees buck hanging lifeless fifty feet in the air. still sees him hooked up to machines, always so still and quiet. sometimes he sees him laughing and joking in his hospital bed like his heart hadn’t been dead beneath eddie’s hands only days earlier and he feels so angry he has to bite his tongue or he’ll scream. it’s irrational, he knows. frank says he and buck need to talk about it but instead, eddie’s kept his feelings locked up tight. old habits die hard and all that shit.

he found himself driving across town after dropping christopher off at a friend’s house this evening and didn’t hesitate until he was turning onto buck’s street. the smile on buck’s face when he answered the door was enough to settle his racing heart though. buck was still under strict instructions from the doctor including a ban on alcohol so in lieu of that eddie gets to work making them each a cup of tea, buck’s voice washing over him in soothing waves from the living room.

“so what did i do in this dream of yours?” he asks as he carries the mugs back to the couch. buck’s nose scrunches as he accepts one and eddie fights back the familiar urge to kiss him on the forehead.

“um, you," buck pauses, placing the steaming mug on the coffee table, grabbing a coaster as an afterthought. he scratches the skin next to his eye with his thumb and avoids looking at eddie entirely. "you weren’t there.”

“i wasn’t?” he’s not entirely surprised. he’s heard bits and pieces of the dream from buck and the others since he woke up and no mention of him or christopher. he tries not to read anything into that.

buck makes a noncommital sound and plays with the drawstrings of his hoodie. eddie waits. “no," buck glances up before looking away quickly. his words trip over themselves he spits them out. "apparently because i wasn’t there you never met carla, and you lost custody of christopher and you got the nickname angry guy.”

eddie takes a sip of his tea, letting his mind make sense of what he’s just heard. he opens his mouth not sure what he’s about to say but before he can buck sits up, hands waving around wildly, and continues. “look i know that’s ridiculous and the world doesn’t revolve around me. i know that i don’t have that much of an effect on–”

eddie stops him. “yes, you do.” buck looks at him so sad and hopeful that it hurts to look at directly. eddie sets his mug beside buck’s and rubs his hands on his knees trying to gather all of what he wants to say and pushing aside the things he knows he can’t.

“look, i’m a good dad,” he says with a still tentative confidence, “but i know that i probably couldn’t do this without carla. without the 118.” without you, he doesn’t say. “i’m not ashamed to admit that anymore, and i wouldn’t have any of it if you hadn’t introduced us or talked to bobby about chris coming around the station.”

buck opens his mouth, about to interrupt until eddie holds up a hand to stop him, finally looking him in the eye. “it’s a fact, buck. i don’t know where chris and i would be without you.”

buck’s face crumples, his eyes filling with tears. a million things are conveyed without any words as they watch each other. buck is the first to look away. he leans forward and grabs his abandoned mug, warming his still-healing hands before finally taking a sip. silence falls over them, only slightly awkward.

“i hate this couch.”

“i had a panic attack.”

“what?” they both say. buck’s fingers run across the couch next to him, and eddie motions for him to continue before he can ask eddie to repeat himself.

“yeah, mom wanted to take a photo of the three of us. i don’t think i have a photo of just the three of us, you know? anyway, the flash went off and i just,” he pauses, looking to eddie for the words, “froze,” he settles on.

eddie’s mind goes back to the department store, to the feeling of something crushing his lungs as his heart tried to break his ribs. he pictures buck collapsing, sees him hanging dead fifty feet in the air. he shakes his head.

“i had to lock myself in the bathroom so they wouldn’t know what was happening.” and that just about breaks his heart.

eddie remembers being surrounded, overwhelmingly so. ana’s hand on his chest, christopher crying his name, the store clerk calling 911. a sea of worry that confirmed the repetitive thought that something was wrong. buck didn’t have any of that, didn’t trust his parents in that moment and eddie can’t really blame him.

eddie settles his hand on buck’s shoulder, squeezing gently and waiting for him to relax. “have you called dr. copeland?”

buck’s face screws up in discomfort even as he leans into eddie’s touch. it’s enough of an answer.

“you know you have to, right?” all he receives is a resigned nod. eddie will make sure to bug him about it more later but for now he won’t push. silence befalls them again but this time it feels like a door has been opened. maybe they can finally talk about the things they’ve been avoiding for years now. maybe eddie can be brave enough for the both of them, to fall through the door and know buck is on the other side ready to catch him. maybe--

“so you hate the couch, huh?”

eddie’s eyes dart to buck’s whose face betrays nothing. eddie squirms, unsure what to say now. the hand still holding buck’s shoulder falls to the cushion between them. he knows buck’s mom picked out the sofa, and eddie is thrown back to his earlier thoughts on buck’s parents and how he’d rather avoid the topic altogether. let it become one more thing they don’t talk about.

a smirk grows slowly across buck’s face and eddie lets out a sigh of relief, gently shoving him and basking in the warmth of buck’s laugh. he listens as buck begins a rant about how he wishes he could burn the whole thing down. the open door gently closes again but eddie knows they’ll get there someday.

#i finally wrote this in the middle of the night so #hot unedited garbage #as always #i hate this #evan buckley #eddie diaz #two guys one soul #buddie #911 #911 fox #fanfic #mine

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seven-ivy · 8 days

Text

Seven (JJK) Ch. 7 sneak peak!

Her forehead creased as her eyes bore into him. “What do you-… I am alive though? There had to have been a transplant.”

“No.” He bluntly denied it again. “Once you fainted after the Sukuna incident, we had a scan of your body done by the hospital and your heart shows no signs of ever being replaced.”

“But-” She traced the scar running down the center of her chest. “There's a scar. I know I had a transplant.” She grounded herself in her knowing that of course, she would know if she had a damn life-changing operation or not. It’s one of her memories that she does remember.

Gojo was already quite familiar with the girl's stubbornness. He picked up a piece of paper. (where did that come from, witch?) and slid it across to her.

“You did have an operation,” he clarified. “But, your heart wasn’t replaced. Instead, something was added.”

She felt like cold water was suddenly thrown upon her. The black and white X-ray crudely and intimately showed the most vulnerable and visceral organ. Atrophied, sickly.

“While the core of cursed energy normally comes from the stomach. Yours comes from your heart. Whatever was implanted is fueling your cursed energy and technique.”

They never replaced the heart.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

What was keeping her alive then?

“It’s called a tsukumogami.” Yaga circled a dark shadow at the median of her heart. “It’s ancient sorcery from the Heian period when there was wide belief that all objects, inanimate or not, possessed a soul. Tsukumogami is a type of curse in which an object will be possessed by the “soul” of a curse, and become alive.”

The densest fog clouded her head. She could hear the words coming out of his mouth but couldn’t process them. Or maybe, she understood all too suddenly what this meant.

“It seems your tsukumogami was a piece of jade that houses a cursed spirit, the likes of which we do not know yet, and it is where you gain your cursed technique from. Since your heart was sick to begin with, the tsukumogami must be working as a sort of backup generator so that your heart could stay beating with the help of cursed energy.”

So the woman in her dreams is not just a dream… she’s living in her heart.

Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum.

Her skin grew clammy at the thought, barbed wire encasing her like a prison from the inside out. Her body is not just hers. The only sanctitude she’s had over these years was spent with a parasite wriggling in her heart.

The fox-fire, the hand change, her siren voice…

If she could open up her chest herself and rip that thing out she would in a second.