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kentocidal · 9 months

Text

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin.

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends.

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively.

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.”

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you.

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable.

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou.txt #kirishima.txt #ask to tag.txt

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watches-and-windchimes · 2 years

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Next terf to use the word safeguarding owes me a tenner

#you keep using that word #and I really don't think you know what it means #anyway I'll forever be grateful that both of my parents have extensive safeguarding training #and that they took the time to educate my sister and I at every opportunity #one of the perks of having parents who both work/worked in education

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bth3cowboi · 1 month

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love conjeture, lh44 x reader

masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader

summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)

mercedesamgf1

liked by yninmath, georgerussell63 and 879.301 others

mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻

tagged yninmath;

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yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡💙 it was an honor to work alongside this great team

mercedesamgf1 👏💙

user1 omg work girlll!!

user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?

user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol

lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙

yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹

user4 ok this is cuteee

user5 you should be thanking him bffr

georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn

yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨

lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back

yninmath if you say so haha

yninmath

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yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘

on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)

tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;

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roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫

yninmath or hardly working🤔

bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something

yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls

bestfriend please never use # again

user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏

yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too

user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡

lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?

yninmath you know me already haha💞

user3 suspicious…

user4 what? they cant be just friends?

user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?

user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship

liked by lewishamilton

f1paddockgossip

liked by pierregasly and 903.443 others

f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.

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user1 NOOOOO

user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird

user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases

user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them

user5 right! she seems super nice

user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie

lewishamilton

liked by yninmath, f1 and 3.478.139 others

lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you

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yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise

lewishamilton 😂😂

lewishamilton anything for my girl

yninmath 🥹

yninmath

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven

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bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?

lewishamilton no but I was worried

yninmath booo tomatoes

bestfriend just buy a new one please

yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃

lewishamilton there has to be a limit

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yninmath love you sm

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——

a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #lh44 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader

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cosmic-whispers · 10 months

Text

Find Out - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel overhears a conversation you have with your friends where you admit your feelings for him. When he decides to confront you, he finds you in a rather compromising position.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: kind of a creepy, pervy Az (lol, he watches reader touch herself), secondhand embarrassment, SMUT (oral-both, shadow play hehe)

A/N: ngl, writing has been tough lately. I feel like I’m just trying to push words out and it’s taking forever to get anything out. Anyways, this is cute, I guess, but still not sure how I feel about it. This was inspired by a request i got. I hope you enjoy 6.7k works of Azriel just buffering and being a mess and a little bit of a creep (but we can’t stop loving him). Also, this is nasty. Enjoy!

The light, crisp breeze of the summer evening caressed your cheeks and gently blew your hair back as you made your way down the streets of Velaris. The setting sun set the world alight in golden hues and you cherished the last rays of sun as you made your way home to the Townhouse.

Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn had invited you to your first official girls night with them and the excitement had been building since earlier that morning. Having known the Inner Circle for less than two months, you were filled with appreciation at your new friends’ kindness to include you. You had finished their book recommendation and came prepared with an extensive list of notes about the characters, the romance, and the spice. You were promised a fun night full of delicious wine and riveting conversations.

You approached the house, the excitement adding a spring to your step. You were ready to relax and have fun, it had been entirely too long and you had been working entirely too hard. The rustle of flapping wings caught your attention and you turned, watching as Azriel descended from the sky, clad in his leathers and shadows swimming around him. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he landed in front of you, wings spread magnificently behind him and his siphons bathing him in a gentle blue light.

You smiled at him as he approached you and he offered you a tired grin in return.

“Hello, Azriel,” you said, looking up at him as he stood before you. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” he said. His deep voice and the way his eyes remained on yours made heat rise to your face and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from admitting just how much you missed him. He had been away for the last two weeks on a mission from Rhysand, and it was too long of a time to go without his kindness and soft smiles.

He leaned down towards you and pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist and giddy excitement spread through you. Your own hands wrapped around his shoulders and he heaved a sigh, burrowing his face into the side of your neck. You knew he could hear the rapid pounding of your heart and were grateful that he didn’t mention it.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your neck. His warm breath spread across your skin and you shuddered in his arms, engulfed entirely in him and the scent of cedar and mist. You wished you could stay in his arms forever.

“I missed you, too,” you admitted. He let go of you, straightening his spine, and took a step away from you. Tendrils of shadows brushed against your bare arms, making you giggle until their master reeled them back in. He began walking with you the rest of the way to the Townhouse.

“I hope these past two weeks without me have not been too hard on you,” he teased, gently bumping your shoulder.

“It’s been dreadful. Rhysand and Nesta won’t leave me alone without my favorite shadowsinger there to protect me.”

“I believe I’m the only shadowsinger you know.” He smiled playfully at you, his eyes shining with amusement. You smiled back at him, taking the opportunity to admire just how breathtaking Azriel was when he was relaxed and smiling.

“You're in a good mood,” you commented. “I take it your mission went well?”

“Yes, surprisingly,” he commented, although he did not elaborate further.

You decided to press your luck. Curiosity ruled you, and you wondered why Rhysand had you research cult organizations within the continent. You pondered whether that was something that Azriel was sent to handle. “Why did Rhys send you all the way to Montesere?”

“Careful, I might begin suspecting you're a spy sent to infiltrate Velaris,” he teased, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. If you hadn’t known him as well as you did, the slight flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips may have gone completely unnoticed.

“Oh, no, you’ve discovered my evil plot. Is the big, bad Spymaster going to take me to his dungeon?”

You teased him, but the sudden image of you chained in his torture chamber, fully nude, and being punished in rather enjoyable ways flashed through your mind and you nearly gasped out loud.

He leaned down close to your ear and murmured, “keep teasing me, and I just might need to.” His deep, gravelly voice echoed pleasantly in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and adding fuel to the images filtering through your mind. You struggled to formulate a coherent response and gratefulness filled you as you made it to the Townhouse.

He smirked as he opened the door for you, allowing you to enter the home before following after you. You took two steps before being intercepted by your friend. Nesta was smirking at you as she noticed the Illyrian behind you. Although you had never admitted your feelings to her, Nesta had quickly guessed your infatuation with the bat boy trailing behind you. She had tried encouraging you to pursue him but you had always turned her ideas down knowing that he did not feel the same for you.

“Welcome back, Azriel,” she said and he nodded at her in thanks.

“(Y/N),” she said, shifting her attention back to you, “I was going to ask what took you so long, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea now.” Her gaze shifted back to Azriel and you glared at her.

“I lost track of time in the city library,” you said, defending yourself against her.

“Right.”

Azriel still lingered behind you and Nesta shifted her attention back to him. “She’s mine tonight, Spymaster. Find someone else to spend your time with. It’s her first girl’s night and I won’t let anyone interrupt. We’re going to get her to spill all her dirty secrets!”

“Nesta!” you exclaimed, laughing at your friend’s enthusiasm.

“Good luck, (Y/N),” Azriel said and you glanced back up at him. He winked at you and you felt heat rise to your cheeks and ears.

“Thanks, I have a strong suspicion that I’ll need it.”

“You’re both being very dramatic. All she needs is some good alcohol in her system,” Nesta said, taking your arm and pulling you away from the Shadowsinger and into the living room. You glanced back at him one last time, catching his honey gaze. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when he smiled at you and you gave him a quick wave, quickly turning your attention to Emorie and Gwyn, who waited for you with excited smiles on their faces.

—--------*-----------

Sleep would not claim Azriel. The time neared midnight and despite the gathering downstairs, the house was quiet. He had bathed, washing the grime off and felt infinitely better. Yet, when he laid down, he found himself wide awake, rushing thoughts infiltrating his mind. Thoughts of you infiltrated his mind full speed. He could not stop thinking about you, and the ache that he felt in his heart every time he saw you. He tried to drown the image of you smiling by concentrating on thoughts of his successful mission and all the useful information he had gathered, but his concentration would wane entirely too quickly back to you.

He decided on a midnight snack, hoping something sweet and perhaps a boring book would lull him to sleep. He descended the stairs silently, pajama pants hanging lowly on his hips and his bare chest exposed.

He made his way toward the kitchen, steps as silent as the night, until your sweet laugh stopped him short.

“Pour her more wine!” he heard Emorie exclaim and the sound of liquid pouring into glass followed.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Nesta teased. “I already know you have a crush on him. You just have to admit it to all of us.”

His heart stopped in his chest, shock washing over him like ice water. You had feelings for someone? A ripple of anger surged through him as he imagined this unknown, faceless male that had stolen his mate away from him.

He had felt nothing but utter bliss the moment that the bond had snapped for him. You had been working with Rhysand and Amren researching ancient scrolls for a week and he had just returned from a brief stint in the Spring Court. He remembered that summer afternoon, walking into the library in the House of Wind, an unfamiliar scent mixing with the air. He had found you pouring over a massive tome, hair a bit frazzled and an exasperated look on your face. You had looked at him then–the rays of sunshine coming in from the windows making your face gleam. His heart had belonged to you the moment your eyes had met; his admiration for you–his soulmate–quickly turning into love as he got to know you.

And you had no idea.

He had wanted to tell you, but doubts had quickly clouded his judgement. Initially, he convinced himself that you might not be ready for the level of commitment that the bond often implied. But it quickly turned into self-doubt–how could he confess and force the affliction of having him as your mate on to you? He was not worthy of you. And now he was too late. Now, he would be forced to watch you fall in love with someone else.

Your giggle broke him out of his thoughts. “If you already know, then why do I need to say it?”

“Because it’s good to confess your feelings instead of keeping them bottled up,” Gwyn said. “Please, (Y/N), you know I have no interest in a romantic relationship right now. I have to live vicariously through you!”

“Fine,” you said, an exasperated sigh escaping you. You paused for a moment, the clinking of the wine glass chiming softly in Azriel’s ear. His shadows were desperate for release, fighting against their master to go to you, but he reeled them in tightly, unwilling to give his position away.

“You cannot say anything to him. I really like him and I don’t need you three meddling and ruining our friendship.”

“Yes, yes. Now who is it?” Emorie said.

“Mother above, look at how embarrassed she looks; she is so in love!” Nesta exclaimed and you groaned, but did not deny it.

Gwyn squealed and Emorie joined her giggling as they drunkenly promised to keep your secrets.

“Who is it?” Nesta teased.

Azriel knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. He knew he should leave well enough alone and go back to his room and accept any decision you made as long as you were happy. His heart was already shattered within his chest; anything else he heard would just be salt on the wound. But his feet remained firm in their place, his shadows growing deathly silent around him as he waited for your answer. A fucking masochist is what he was.

“You already know it’s Azriel.”

He was stunned into a daze for a moment, before warmth began to spread from his chest to the tip of his fingers and he did not even register the corners of his lips rising into a smile.

“He’s just so kind and sweet and gentle. A little mysterious, but that’s the best part,” you continued, giggling. “He’s made me feel so welcome and he likes spending time with me. I feel like I can be myself around him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s so damn gorgeous. I can barely look at him!”

“I think you should tell him! I see the way he looks at you,” Emorie said. He wanted to hug her.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he feels the same way and I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you said and he rolled his eyes at you. Silly, little thing. How could you not know that you were the single most important thing in his life? How could you not know how his heart beat for you and only you?

“Well, I think you should put your big girl pants on and tell him,” Nesta said. “Just think about all the fun you’ll get to have!”

An image of you, kneeling ass up in his bed, flashed through his mind and he had to fight the dirty thoughts in his head to be able to focus.

“Yes!” Emorie exclaimed. “You know that the size of Illyrian wings correlates with their dick size! If we’re just going off his wings, that male is packing.”

The entire group began laughing and unadulterated male pride surged within him. If only they knew how accurate they were.

“I suppose the wings could be fun,” you said and trailed off.

“But?” Gwyn asked, baiting you into answering and Azriel vowed to get her that book she had been talking about non stop.

You giggled before answering. “But I’ve always wondered what he can do with those little shadows.”

The squeals and laughter grew loud. He heard a chair being pushed back, and quickly drew back up the stairs and into his bedroom without a sound, a smile etched on his face.

This was not like him. The regularly stoic, unfeeling Spymaster of the Night Court felt giddy. He knew that the bond had not snapped for you yet. You were falling for him entirely on your own and he felt his heart swell with emotion.

He knew sleep would not come to him that night. While it would usually evade him due to nightmares or too many thoughts, he knew that night would only be filled with the thought of you. You had feelings for him. You fantasized about him. He sat on his balcony, nursing a cup of wine as he looked up at the stars and contemplated the future. He was so damn close to having you.

Your room was across from his, deliberately chosen by Rhys in an effort to get Azriel to get closer to you. He had heard you enter your chambers within the last hour and had to force his shadows to stay put, although he was finding it harder and harder to contain himself. He debated whether to go to you or not.

You had feelings for him–had admitted as much out loud. Yet, apprehension still clung to him. Having a crush on him did not mean that you would accept the bond. Accept him. Perhaps you needed more time to solidify your feelings. Or perhaps he was being a coward and should speak with you, before his opportunity fades away from him.

He stood decidedly and traversed the length of his room with large strides. He crossed the hallway and gently rapped his knuckles against your door before he could second-guess himself. There was no going back.

He took a deep breath as no sound greeted him.

He knocked on the door again, to the same answering silence.

“(Y/N)?” he called out. He slowly pushed the door open, ensuring it was quiet in case you had fallen asleep. Glancing into the room, he found it completely empty. He had not heard you leave and his shadows had not detected you either. A pang of worry worked its way down his spine, before he heard a sound from the adjoining bath room.

“Mmm.” It was your voice, low and husky and full of pleasure. He froze on the spot, blood rushing to his face and further south and he heard his heartbeat loud in his ears. He was hardly conscious of his legs, moving him closer and closer to the door until he was standing right in front of it. He stared at the dark wood, imagining what sight would greet him if he opened the door.

You moaned once more and he gasped as the husky scent of your arousal reached his nose. It was making him slightly delirious, and he rested his head against the wooden surface of the door, trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but realized too late that it had been a mistake. Your heady scent invaded every crevice of his brain and it felt like he was a hormonal teenager again, nothing in his brain except you. He reeled his shadows tight to himself, despite their clear desire to go to you. They angrily buzzed around his body, begging him to release them. His hand made it to the front of his pants, rubbing the throbbing erection through the soft material of his pants.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was a complete invasion of your privacy, but he could not find it within himself to walk away.

“Yes, Azriel,” you sighed and it stopped the movement of his hand short, the sound of you moaning his name lighting every nerve ending of his body on fire. It’s almost like you were a siren, summoning and enticing him and he took the bait without thought or hesitation. His hand wrapped around the handle of the door and he slowly turned it, pulling it open and making his way silently past the threshold.

You were enveloped in the giant, ivory tub in the center of the room and faced away from him, not noticing him inside. He stayed where he was near the entrance and observed you. Your head rested back against the rim of the tub, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure, mouth opened as panting breaths escaped you. Your wet skin glistened in the faelight and he was entranced.

You looked ethereal–like a goddess personified into flesh right before his eyes. He glanced at the mirror that stood in front of you, nearly gasping out loud at the sight of your pert nipples peeking out from the surface of the bath water. Your hand was submerged, arm moving in a quick, controlled movement as you brought pleasure to yourself.

Gods, you were perfection. Everything about you enthralled him, excited him, and he wanted to own every part of you and for you to own every part of him. He yearned desperately for you.

Your panting grew rapid, the moans escaping you more frequently now and he knew you were on the verge of your orgasm. His eyes remained glued to the reflection of your face, taking in every detail, every movement, every expression you made as you hit your peak. Your back arched, exposing your full breasts to his desperate gaze and he nearly came in his pants from the sight alone.

Your body relaxed into the water and you sighed in satisfaction. Your eyes opened lazily as a delighted smile grew on your face. Looking forward, you froze as your gaze met his in the mirror. His breath caught in his chest as you gasped loud, submerging yourself further into the water and turning your body to face him. Shit.

Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat had increased. He could almost feel the heat burning beneath your skin in embarrassment as you looked at him in shock. He tried to think of something to say, but panic began building inside of him and clouding his mind.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you screeched.

He was frozen in shame. He should have never invaded your privacy like this. He regretted it. He did not know what possessed him to follow his primal instincts, but he cursed himself as he was unable to speak.

“Well?” you asked, and he could feel your embarrassment slowly shifting into anger.

“Do you normally spy on naked females?” Your tone was sharp and your lips were downturned into a frown. He could practically sense your body vibrating with unleashed wrath.

His cheeks burned bright red in embarrassment. He wished to explain himself–that he did not come to you with the intention of catching you in a vulnerable position. He simply wanted to speak with you. Encourage your feelings. But the sight of you…Your upper chest and shoulders were exposed, wet, and glistening in the dim lighting. Your hair was soaked, pushed all the way back and the curve of your neck was exposed to him, taunting his control. Your eyelashes were darkened, making your eyes all the more piercing. He was absolutely enchanted.

Azriel was a clever male. He was quick-witted and smart and knew his way out of most situations. But with you, he found himself absolutely struck dumb. His mind was blank, even as he begged himself to say something. To say anything.

You were growing impatient. You breathed a sharp sigh through your nose and your frown deepened. Azriel wanted to punch himself when the only thing he could think of was how pretty your mouth was and how desperate he was to have it wrapped around his length.

“You have about 3 seconds to explain yourself before I completely lose my shit and kill you.”

He knew you couldn’t kill him. It was laughable to even think of you trying. But the anger in your eyes scared him and he feared he would ruin any chance he had with you. He would never jeopardize your friendship, even if after today you decided you would never give him a chance, he needed you in his life. He could not lose you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathless and absolutely captivated. “I didn’t know you were bathing–I came to speak to you. I heard a noise, so I came in and…I’m sorry.” Not the most eloquent, but at least he was able to get the words out, despite his tight throat and heavy breathing.

“What did you want to speak to me about that was so pressing you had to walk in on me and stay?” you questioned, anger still lingering in your expression, but you weren’t banishing him away.

“I overheard you tell the girls that you have feelings for me.” Your anger shifted into shock for a moment, before turning back into embarrassment. You broke eye contact with him, looking away, eyes panicked and eyebrows scrunched together in worry. He wanted to comfort you, but within seconds, your expression stilled, morphing back into anger and you turned your eyes back to him.

You glared at him, anger and indignation seeping from you. “Well, if you wanted to turn me down, save it. I never expected anything from you. Now, please leave.”

He wanted to laugh, but knew that you would not take it well. Turn you down? He would be the most foolish male in the whole of Prythian to let you go.

“How could I ever turn you down when you’re all I ever think about?” You were silent at his confession, and your glare softened. “How could I ever turn you down when I have been in love with you since the second that I met you? How could I ever turn down my mate?”

You were stunned, eyes widening and you stared at him, unblinkingly.

“...Your mate?” you said. Your voice sounded small and the vulnerable expression on your face nearly broke his heart. “How long have you known?”

“It snapped for me the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t want it?”

“Of course I want it,” he said and took a step toward you. You didn’t stop him. You stared at him, your beautiful eyes wide and lined with unshed tears. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of and more. I wanted you to feel it on your own time. I didn’t want to pressure you. I know that I come with a lot of baggage and that I don’t deserve your love. And I’m sorry about this. I’ve just dreamt about seeing you like this for so long. I’ve imagined what your skin would feel like, your lips…”.

He knew he was rambling and finally decided to have some self-preservation. “I’m so sorry for invading your privacy, (Y/N). I’ll leave now.”

He turned away in shame, taking a step toward the door before your soft voice stopped him.

“Find out,” you breathed. His gaze found you again, your eyes softened and a small smile played on your lips.

He grew nervous and he felt his throat tighten. His shadows coiled around him anxiously waiting.“What do you mean?”

“How my skin feels like, my lips…”

You stood, droplets of bath water sliding down smooth, soft skin. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest as he traced a drop down between your breasts, down your navel, and down to the curls between your thighs. You stood bare before him–the most exquisite sight he had ever beheld. Your breath quickened, drawing his attention back to your perfect breasts. He envisioned himself walking up to you, taking a peak into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the supple skin.

“(Y/N).” He sighed your name, quietly and reverently. His gaze returned to your face, piercing eyes meeting yours and every fiber of his being felt like it was being lit on fire.

He took a step towards you, his hand extending out as if to touch you, but he pulled it back. His shadows and wings were held taught against him, and his body nearly vibrated at having you this close and completely vulnerable before him. You stepped out of the tub and on to the plush rug on the floor and took a step toward him. He stared, afraid to move or even blink, as you approached him and closed the distance between you. This had to be a dream, a vivid fantasy his cruel mind was inventing. But you stood in front of him, real, completely naked and dripping wet and he was painfully hard beneath his pants.

“Find out,” you murmured, close enough that your warm breath brushed against the skin of his bare chest. Before he was aware of what you had done, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, bringing him closer and you pressed your lips against his.

He froze for a moment, shock overtaking him before elation began growing and spreading throughout his being. His arms came up, wrapping around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him as he began to eagerly kiss you back. He was addicted, your taste and the softness of your lips against his overwhelming his senses. He could not think. All he could smell was you. All he could hear was your breathing and the beating of your heart. All he could feel was the pleasant heat between your lips and the warmth of your skin on his.

He could not stop his hands from roaming your skin, large hands touching any part of you he could get to, savoring the feeling of you in his arms. His touch reached the plump skin of your ass and he could not help but to give the meaty flesh a squeeze. You moaned, the sound like heaven to his ears, and he took the opportunity to dive his tongue into your mouth. Your arms squeezed him tighter to you, pulling him down to your height. His hands slid to your thighs and he stood up straight, carrying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He stepped forward, pressing your back against the floor length mirror on the wall and his lips began to trail the delicate skin of your neck. You sighed, going pliant and melting into his arms.

“You said my name,” he murmured against you, one of his hands roaming to your front. The feel of your breast in his hand left him nearly breathless.

“What?” you gasped as he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder. Fuck, you were delicious. He could not get enough of you.

“Were you thinking of me while you were touching yourself?” he teased. He pressed his hips against yours and pinched your nipple; your gasp and the slight friction made a shiver run down his spine. Excitement, hope, and love flooded his senses as he finally had you in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you said sheepishly, turning your face away from him in embarrassment.

He took the opportunity and began kissing down your jaw and neck, the soft gasps escaping you exciting him more. His hands returned to your thighs, hoisting you higher in his embrace and he attached his mouth to your nipple. You were mesmerizing, absolutely beautiful and his heart beat hard in his chest. He could not wait to drown in the silkiness of your skin, the feel of your hands on his body, your kisses, your essence…He was starving for you.

He licked at your skin, sucking the delicate nub and pinching it between his teeth, your soft sounds encouraging him. Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin and he shuddered at the stinging pleasure.

You moaned as he sucked on your nipple hard, and your hands began to wander the exposed skin of his chest, your small fingers traveling the terrain with purpose, dipping along his muscles and caressing his tattoos affectionately. He savored the feeling of you touching him, your warmth, how it felt to have you in his arms. His heart beat erratically in his chest and he feared you would put an end to it. He feared you would never allow him this close to you again. So he took his time to memorize you, so that if nothing else, he could have this night for the rest of his life.

Your hands traveled up his neck, and you tilted his jaw up. He looked up at you in awe as you leaned down and pressed your lips against his once more. Your kiss was addicting–soft and passionate, desperate and accepting. He barely registered your hand sneaking down and pushing his sweatpants down his hips, leaving him just as bare as you were.

You wiggled in his arms and he lowered you, leaning down and keeping his lips pressed firmly to yours. His tongue pressed at the seam of your lips and you breathed a laugh as you broke apart from him. He almost whimpered at the loss of your lips.

“Fuck, Az, you’re so hot,” you mumbled as you began pressing kisses down his chest. His hands clung to your shoulders and he hissed as you bit his nipple. You giggled, smiling up at him cheekily.

“Fucking tease,” he growled.

“Should I make it up to you?” you asked, sinking down to your knees in front of him.

Shock flew throughout his body as you pressed your mouth against his cock, hands coming up to wrap around him. Soft, tiny licks to his shaft made him twitch in your hands and you smiled up at him. You gently sucked the tip into your mouth and his heart stuttered in his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he started, his voice tight and restrained. Despite wanting desperately to fuck into your mouth with reckless abandon, he didn’t want you to feel forced to do this for him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” you murmured. The vibrations of your voice traveled along his cock, up his spine, and caused his brain to malfunction for a moment. “I want to.”

Before he could formulate a response in his mind, you sucked his cock into your mouth, deep into your throat and your hands gripped whatever you were not able to stuff inside of your mouth.

“Fuck!” He had died. He had ascended to the heavens, he was sure of it. This was the most exquisite, erotic experience of his life. You began dragging your mouth to the tip and back up the shaft; the suction of your mouth and the tightness of your throat was pure perfection. He could hardly believe that you were real. His hand came up and wrapped around your hair, desperate for anything to ground him to the earth.

He stared at your face and your eyes shifted up, looking at him through your lashes and he groaned at the sight of just how deep you were taking him.

“Stop,” he begged. He needed you to stop before he was not able to contain himself any longer. He wanted to be inside of you when he came.

You ignored his plea, suctioning your cheeks in and sucking him harder. He felt his balls tighten and he whimpered.

“Fuck, please,” he groaned and pulled your hair hard, tugging your head back and away from him. You moaned and your eyes sparked with interest at his roughness. Interesting. He made a mental note to explore that in the future with you if he ever got the chance.

“I need to fuck you,” he said, leaning down and gripping your hips, lifting you in his arms once more. He carried you with ease to the countertop, sitting you on it and slotting himself between your legs. You hissed at the coldness of the marble beneath you, but it didn’t stop you from kissing him again. He wrapped his arms fully around you, engulfing you in him as his wings dipped forward. You fell pliant in his arms and for a brief moment, the exhilarating thought crossed his mind that you would let him do anything he wanted to you.

With you distracted, he took the opportunity, sending his shadows to pin your legs to the marble beneath you and your arms to the mirror behind you. You gasped in shock as he broke away from you, taking a few steps back and observing you.

“Azriel?” you gasped, looking at him with love-drunk eyes. He did not answer, taking the time to drink you in. Your perfect face, desperation clinging to your expression. Your breasts were on full display for him. His eyes wandered further down your exquisite figure, stopping at your glistening cunt. You were completely exposed to him.

“You wanted to know how I use my shadows during sex,” he stated and you gasped, embarrassment flooding your features as you realized that he had overheard more of your conversation than you expected. “You’re about to find out.”

His shadows spread across the expanse of your body as Azriel stood firmly planted where he stood, observing the delectable sight before him. The shadows curled around your nipples, twisting them and pinching them and you let out a cry of pleasure, arching your back. He sent more of them lower on your body, softly caressing the seam at your center and you whined.

“How does it feel?” he asked, wanting to know just how good you felt.

“It’s so good Azriel,” you moaned. The shadows at your cunt squeezed against your clit and you screamed, your chest rising rapidly as you became breathless.

“I-I”ve never felt anything like this,” you nearly sobbed. Your wetness dripped out of you, and he watched in cruel anticipation as your body writhed–right on brink of climax from his shadows alone.

“Azriel, please, I need you.” He chuckled lowly at your plea for him. He had no intention of touching you just yet.

“Is that it?” he taunted. “I think you can do better than that.”

You yelled in pleasure as his shadows gave a particularly tight pinch on your clit.

“Azriel! Please! Please, I need your cock inside of me, I need to touch you. I need you to fuck me, please!” you cried out, just before hitting your peak. You groaned loudly as you arched your back. Your cum squirted out of you and he groaned, taking quick strides towards you and stuffing his face into your pussy, desperate for a taste of you. He drank your sweet juices and his tongue rubbed relentlessly against your clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible.

He slowly called his shadows back to him, releasing you from their hold and he crawled his way back up your body, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.

“Someone’s a desperate, little slut,” he said and you smiled, leaning into him and nipping his lip.

“Only for you,” you said, and spread your legs open, revealing your messy cunt to him once more.

He stared for a moment before you gripped his face and brought his attention back to your face. “Well? Are you going to give this desperate, little slut what she wants?”

He was blown away at your insolent, bratty attitude. The normally shy, quiet, sweet girl was gone, replaced by a wild, untamed goddess of sex and beauty. He wanted to tease you, but he was absolutely mesmerized and knew he needed to fuck you, desperate for the feel of you and for his release.

He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly slid inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and you tilted your head back in pleasure as every inch of his dick slowly slid into your tight hole. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The heat, the tightness, the wetness was driving him wild and he wanted to rut into you recklessly. But he went slow until he bottomed out. You were stuffed to the brim, his head nestling tight against your cervix.

He began fucking into you in earnest, the friction driving him delirious. He craved every single touch you surrendered to him. He wished to be so deep inside of you that he did not know where one ended and the other began. The golden string tying his soul to yours sang in his chest, bright and unyielding, and it brought tears to his eyes as the floodgates of the bond suddenly opened, your emotions of pleasure and admiration and love flooding into his heart.

Your eyes widened, tears lining them and you smiled brilliantly at him.

“My mate,” you whispered, feeling the bond open on your end. He returned your smile, unbridled and open, and the bond between you glowed–incandescent and fierce and all-consuming.

He surrendered to his emotions, fucking into you with abandonment and a newfound ferocity. You screamed in pleasure and you clenched around him, making him gasp. The sight of your face, contorted in pleasure, the glow of your skin, still damp and gleaming with sweat, your scent intermingled with the unmistakable musk of sex, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapping around him and accommodating his impressive length perfectly–it was all too much for him.

He was hanging on the precipice, determined to bring you to your high before falling off the edge. He was so close and so were you. He never thought he would ever feel such pleasure from sex. Sex had always been good, great even. But with you, it was something else entirely. With the golden thread now formed between the two of you, the feeling of your pleasure increased his tenfold and his heart swelled with uncontrollable love. No one would ever compare to you–he would never want anyone else.

You sobbed in pleasure as your pussy clenched tight around him and you came with a scream. Your arms clutched him to you, and he groaned loudly as your walls fluttered around him. His pleasure built to a peak and his vision went white as he came inside of you. He buried himself to the hilt, as deep as he could go and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, your entire body pressed against him.

The room was silent for a few moments. Azriel pressed his head against your panting chest, your breathing and the beat of your heart a comforting rhythm in his ear. Your hand gently ran through his hair, playing with the soft strands and gently combing through the tangles.

He looked up at you and found your eyes already fixed on him. He smiled softly and pressed a kiss against your jaw.

“I’m sorry I was creeping on you,” he said sheepishly.

You laughed and leaned down to press a kiss against his head. “I’m sure I can think of some ways you can make it up to me. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up and force you to watch me pleasure myself all night long.”

He glared up at you. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” He couldn’t wait to find out.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley w/ his S/O During a Panic Attack

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff <3, Reader has a Panic Attack, Simon being the Best Boyfriend Ever™, Vague Implications of Simon’s Past Trauma, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Given how stressful Simon’s life has been right up until he met you, he knows how to recognise and deal with anxiety.

Especially when it comes swinging at you full-force in the form of a panic attack.

He’ll honestly see it coming before you do, taking you aside when he sees you start to zone out, your breathing picking up and your speech becoming distant as your mind clouds with the worst possible outcome of what you’re worrying about.

With your hands in his, he’ll ground you and, with a soft gaze and an even softer voice, guide you to a happier conclusion.

“It’s all right, Love,” he tells you, drawing circles into the backs of your hands. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here. You're safe,”

He's your shoulder to cry on, your chest to bundle up into when you want to escape the world.

He only wishes that he can bring you even a fraction of the comfort you’ve brought him over your time together.

He’s eternally grateful for all you’ve done for him – all the sleepless nights you’ve let him weep silently into your side when his nightmares – flashes from the past – bleed into his psyche.

He’s your rock, taking your body against his and holding you, stroking your head, placing kisses to your brow as if to extract the troublesome thoughts from your mind with his lips.

And he promises you a world where “Everything’s okay. Whatever it is, there’s a solution. We’ll figure it out – just the two of us.”

He’s so warm when he cuddles you.

When he can tell your body’s starting to grow tired, lethargic, from the extensive stress you’ve incurred, he tucks you into bed with your favourite blanket and brings you a drink he knows you love. And the two of you just cuddle up until, during, and after you’re feeling confident enough to tell him what’s ailing you.

He’ll wait as long as you need him to until you’re ready to talk. He knows how fragile you can feel during times like these <3

And he’ll be here for you. Always and forever :-)

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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man-down-in-hatchet-town · 7 months

Text

I've been going back and forth between NPMD and Ghosts, and, like, its really hitting me how forever grateful I am to Glee for introducing Curt, and by extension Kim, to Darren and putting them on a collision course with Starkid, Pulp, Tin Can, Shipwrecked, and the rest of this incredible community. We are so fucking lucky to have them.

#curt mega #kim whalen #starkid #pulp musicals #nerdy prudes must die #seriously whoever cast the warblers--I want to shake your hand and buy you dinner #its funny how things play out isn't it

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alexaloraetheris · 7 months

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I am HOWLING, this morning I was waiting for my mom in the car parked right by the drugstore and I had the pleasure of witnessing this girl coming out and immediately throwing her hands wide and melodramatically yelling at the sky:

"Allah, why do you give the greatest lashes to your most ungrateful men!?"

And then her boyfriend came out behind her, laden with shopping bags and downright artfully fluttering his (absolutely stunning btw) lashes at her.

"I dunno, I'm feeling pretty grateful right now. This way if all your eyelashes fall out you can have mine. They have a procedure for that, right?"

Bless this man, has no idea how eyelash extensions work but he was fully prepared to donate the necessary parts so his girlfriend could look fabulous.

Love is real and I hope they stay together forever.♥

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babyleostuff · 7 months

Note

Omg your Minghao soft hours absolutely have my HEART. If you’re up for it, could I request a PT.2? Maybe reader wakes up in the morning feeling a bit better and gives Hao kisses as a thank you?!

the thought of kissing or making out w hao and having puffy pink lips after will forever drive me i n s a n e

kisses for hao | xu minghao

a little extension of this soft hour thought

genre | fluff [is a bit suggestive]

author's note | blonde hao is so fucking pretty, i just want to run my finger through his hear and kiss his pretty lips, god help me

Your eyes fluttered open, as the rays of the morning sun seeped through the curtains, warmth grazing your exposed shoulder, which Hao’s shirt failed to cover. You couldn’t remember the last time you woke up so content, but you were sure that the body pressed to your back had something to do with it.

Slowly, as not to wake the sleeping man next to you, you rolled over to your back, so you could fully take in the figure of your boyfriend, who looked as happy as you - even in his sleep. It wasn’t often that you got to wake up next to each other, your crazy schedules, his tours and endless flights made it almost impossible.

His newly dyed blond hair made him look like an angel in the morning light, contrary to his toned upper body and perfect arms that the bedsheet failed to cover that made you think of anything else but angelic things.

You carefully swept back the hair that fell onto his face, gently threading your finger through the soft strands. Almost as he could sense your featherlight touch, Minhgao stirred in his sleep, his perfect lips letting out a content sigh.

“Good morning, bǎobèi,” he murmured, his eyes still closet, but with an evident smile on his face.

“Mmm, it’s definitely a very good morning seeing you like this,” you giggled at how fast he opened his eyes, immediately noticing how most of his body was uncovered.

“Isn’t it too early to think about how perfect I am?” You couldn’t believe you actually had this man in your bed, the annoying smirk on his face with a body out of your dreams.

“It’s never too early, Hao,” you laughed, and put your hand on his chest, scratching lightly the expanse of his naked skin with your nails. He giggled as if you said the funniest joke ever, something you could listen to 24/7.

“Thank you for last night. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said in a more serious tone, looking him deeply into his golden brown eyes. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I’ll always be there for you, darling. No matter where I am, you can always count on me,” Minghao said, his tone mirroring yours. As he raised his arm, his fingerstips grazed your arm, sending shivers down your back, only to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know, but-,” before you could finish your sentence, Minghao suddenly lunged at you, crushing you with his entire weight, making you let out a genuine laugh of joy.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked, feeling his wet kisses all over your collarbone and neck, as his hands found their way under your (his) shirt.

No matter how many times stuff like these led to sex, there was nothing sexual about it now - you were like two idiots in love, grateful that you could finally spend a perfect morning together, exchanging not so innocent touches and kisses in the comfort of your shared bedroom.

“I should be the one kissing you,” you kept on laughing, as his kisses neared your lips.

“Why?” he smiled at you, placing another one on your cheek, this time more gently. “Because of what you did for me yesterday,” you said, placing your hand at the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren't there.”

The way he smiled could light up even the darkest days, you would never find the right words to express how grateful you were for him, so you hoped that at least your kisses could convey a small part of it.

You lifted yourself on your elbow, and pulled him closer to you with the hand that held his neck, as he placed his own on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. You took a second to admire his face now that you could be near him, noticing all of his imperfections that made him so perfect.

“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on his perfectly plump, pink lips, that you’d never be tired of kissing. “I love you even more,” he whispered back.

For a second, as your eyes met, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in your bedsheets, in your own little universe. With a gentle, almost hesitant approach, you leaned in closer, sealing your lips in another heartfelt kiss.

Your mouths moved together in perfect harmony, and the taste of morning lingered on your lips - a mixture of crisp air and the promise of a new day.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin

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violetteshoneybee · 1 year

Text

CHERRY TREE

husband!remus x wife!reader ; fluff

In which remus and his wife are waking up beside each other in their newly bought house

0.8 k

The sheets moved swiftly around you, their soft fabric complimenting your gracious body. You were asleep with your hair spread across your face and falling in a cascade on your back and arms. You were feeling warm. Not the uncomfortable warm, though, the one you feel when waking up and tightening the blanket around you. You also felt safe. This was something you loved. An arm passed over your waist as a protection to keep you in bed and close and warm. You loved waking up and feeling the heaviness of your husband’s arm. Remus was always one to go to sleep late, the one not to sleep at all even. But since you two had settled in this cosy place, he was spending more and more time with you in bed. He would often fall asleep before you as you played with his hair and massaged his scalp. Remus felt home between your arms. He had hidden for so many years that being able to be himself and not be afraid of hurting someone was just heaven to him. You and Remus had found that old water mill house some months ago, and you two fell in love with its peaceful atmosphere. The house was in a quiet neighbourhood surrounded by a lovely little cottage with extensive gardens and vergés.

The forest on the other side of the little river was beautiful and perfect for Remus to spend his full moons. You felt reassured to know he wasn’t too far from you during this time of the month. Thanks to your good wedges, you could get some wolfsbane for him, and you knew that Remus would pass the long nights wandering in the forest. You imagined he would follow the fairies around and run after the little magical creature. Remus saw a future with you here, and you were forever grateful. It had been so hard to find an isolated place to protect your husband from the others. It felt unreal to establish somewhere like here.

The feeling of the cover being torn away from you stopped your reasoning, and you turned around to look at your gorgeous husband rolled into the covers.

‘I love you, Lupin. But you promised to share all your belongings, that includes the cover.’ You said, tickling his nose with your pinky as you watched him softly blink his eyes open.

‘I don’t think it means all my belongings. I’m sure there’s some kind of exception for the sheets, cover and probably the food too.’ You chuckled at his comment and kissed him.’Good morning, dove.’

‘Good morning, darling.’ You smiled. ‘Did you sleep well?’

He nodded and stretched his arms over his head before wrapping you in them.

‘I slept alright, and you? Are you hungry? We’ve got some fruits. The neighbours gave them.’

‘Slowly, Rem.’ You kissed his hand and gently put it in your hair.

‘One at a time?’

‘One at a time.’

Remus sighed and started petting your hair, wrapping his long, thin fingers around the strands. In this instant, he thought he would have been more than happy to die beside you and keep this as the last thing he would see in his life. You were his everything, after all. You had been there for him when he needed comfort back at school and would be with him when he grew old. And more than anything, you were with him right now, right at this instant. You were giving him this look full of love and caring, and he swore he had never seen a more beautiful thing in his life than your bright smile and tired eyes looking at him. He was eternally madly in love with you. Remus was sure of that because he knew that if you were an ocean, he would let himself drown. If you were a fire, he would eat himself burn, and before all this, if you were the earth, the dirt beneath the grass, he let his body crawl to you and rot. Remus would love you even if you killed him because you only mattered now. Remus never thought he would have the chance to be loved and love like this. Ever since Remus was a child, he saw how dangerous love could be for others, and he wanted nothing dangerous for his loved ones. But his soul deceived him the day he saw you under that cherry tree, in your little lime green dress with your hair tied with a ribbon. Remus knew he was doomed right at that moment. He knew he was your slave for eternity.

‘… Rem? Are you listening?’

‘Sorry, darling. What did you say?’

‘You know, sometimes I really wish to know what’s going on in that head of yours.’ You scoffed and slowly made your way up. ‘I was saying we should slow down on heavy food. I think I took some weight.’

‘Oh, but my darling, I’m the happiest man alive if I can get more of you.’

source dividers: @cottage-writings

tag list : @masivechaos @padfootagain

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #young!remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin angst #the marauders #young marauders #james potter x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #harry potter #marauders au #'*•.¸♡ it's cottagecore inspired ♡¸.•*'#'*•.¸♡ cottagecore bc why not ♡¸.•*'#cottagecore dividers #violette writes

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droopycoquette · 1 year

Text

LETITIA WRIGHT FIC RECS!!!

Just a list of Shuri, Jamie, Scotty, and Letitia fics that touched me in all the right places. Some of these didn't have names or summaries so I gave them titles or summarized them. ENJOY!!!

|*|

SHURI

Want You Extensively(Part 1) by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: you and shuri broke up, and you're trying to get over her (not really). shuri makes it exceedingly hard to do so.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, possessive!shuri, slight public smut(18+), fluff, wakanda forever spoilers

Word count: 5k

Knew I'd Always Come Crawling back by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: a question looms in the air: will you and shuri make it to your dinner reservation on time, if at all?

Warnings: just pure smut & filth (18+), thigh riding, strap!shuri, multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, overstimulation, slight praise!kink, fluff at the end because romance is real!

Word count: 4.3k

When I Had The Chance by @haechvn

Summary: You get hurt by Namor

Warnings: Angst. M!rder. Dark!Shuri. Glory. I think. A little Smut. Shuri is sick of this shit.

Word count: 1k

Marry Me by @justariellove

Summary: After the loss of everything Shuri decides to take it out on you. Resulting in her almost losing you for good.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word Count: Medium

Don't Play With Me, Princess by @haechvn

Summary: Shuri being jealous

Warnings: JEALOUS!SHURI. TOP!SHURI. VIBRANIUM STRAP!SHURI. SHURI IS A MUNCHARTD. SHURI SMUT. NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. FACEFUCKING. SHURI LIKES TO BE CALLED QUEEN/YOUR HIGHNESS. THAT'S ALL.

Word Count: 1.3k

Smoking Weed With Shuri by @haechvn

Summary: Headcanon

Warnings: None

Word Count: .6k

All Up In You're Mind by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: you think shuri doesn't notice you. cute first kiss

Warnings: fluff

Word count: .6k

I'm Not Trying To Seduce You by @rayrayvan

Summary: The honeymoon phase

Warnings: fluff

Word count: Short

Caught by @writingintheshadowsforever

Summary: You get caught

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content

Word Count: Short

Your Spark Got Lazy by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: shuri misses your birthday dinner because she's too caught up in her work, things ensue

Warnings: hurt/comfort (if you squint), smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

Diary by @ppawmpkin

Summary: You leave your diary in Shuri's lab

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: medium

Nosy by @starsvck

Summary: You want to learn from Shuri

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: short

Impromptu Lazy Day by @tchhairbandhere

Summary: clingy shuri wants to spend the day with you doing absolutely nothing. fluff on fluff on fluff~

Warnings: fluff

Word count: short

Plushie by @writingintheshadowsforever

Summary: Shuri finds you asleep with a black panther plushie

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: medium

Off To Bed Little One by @rayrayvan

Summary: It's time for bed for your little one

Warnings: Fluff, Mom!Shuri x Mom!fem!reader

Word Count: short

Kidnapped by @nexusnyx

Summary: You were kidnapped by Namor, sending Shuri into a grateful fit

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, fluff, friends to lovers, protective!shuri, soft ending

Word Count: 2k

Can't Help It If You're Bored by @tchhairbandhere

summary: Y/n was simply bored, time to do something unnecessary and mildly chaotic in Shuri’s lab just because she can.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: .8k

LETITIA

Feelings(Part 1) by @ventingfanfics

Summary: You're bestfriend is having relationship problems

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word count: medium

#Letitia wright #Shuri x reader #shuri smut #shuri udaku #wakanda forever #Letitia wright scotty #scotty banana #fic reqs

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Note

HI POOKIEE IM BACKK WITH ANOTHER SILLY IDEA😋😋😍(lets ignore the fact that all my requests have been ninjago related)

Basically hc's with the ninja who have a little sibling(the reader) and they have these like witch powers that they're trying to control. The ninja of that scenario try to help the reader with various training sessions, leading them to be a mentor for them. When the reader gets the hang of their powers the ninja are reminded of a memory of their childhood where the reader helped the ninja as children in a really dark time and the ninja see the training sessions as repayment for the readers help all those years ago.

THATS IT HOPEFULLY IT MADE SENSE!!! ANYWAYS BYE POOKIE HOPE YOURE DOING GREAT AND REMEMBER ILYYYY😘😘😘😍😍😍👻👻👻

YAY you’re back!! Always good to hear from u <33

Ninjago - Being the Ninjas’ Little Witch Sister

Zane

When you first ask him to train you, he’s a bit surprised

Of course he agrees though

He proves to be a very patient teacher, both with you and himself as you both continue to learn

He reads up on magic extensively to better know how to help you

He also frequently consults master Wu

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he’ll just tell you to do something else while he researches it

He doesn’t want you doing anything he isn’t able to predict/help you with

Both for your safety and for the sake of your surroundings

As you master concepts, he moves on to progressively harder ones until you’re a skilled witch

His meticulous teaching would have rubbed off on you, so you rarely make mistakes, doing things by the book

Or should I say grimoire?

One day, when he’s watching you perform a healing spell on an old man, he remembers the first time you used your powers

It was when Dr. Julien fell down the stairs

Zane remembers hearing him cry out in pain; the sound still haunts him to this day

He was terrified that his father was fatally wounded

But when he rushed to his side, you were already there, holding his wrinkled hands with yours, which were glowing

You had unintentionally used a healing spell

If you hadn’t, Dr. Julien might have actually been seriously hurt

Zane’s forever thankful for that, and this forever thankful for you

Kai

He’s stoked that you want him to teach you

He always thought your powers were cool, and he’s excited to test their limits with you

He always pushes you hard, which can get a little exhausting

Eventually he’ll ease up a little as he realizes that you need rest

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he encourages you to try it anyway

Meanwhile he’s hiding behind a metal shield in the corner

You learn through experimentation, which leads to many, many failures

But Kai never stops encouraging you to keep trying, and eventually you master your powers

You start joining the ninjas on missions, and one time you used a spell that knocked an entire posse of attackers on their backs

Kai stared at you with wide eyes, flashing back to the time you used a similar spell

It was back at the blacksmith shop; a particularly obnoxious customer was insisting that he “test” a sword

He ended up snatching it and running at Nya with the clear intention of nabbing her

It was then that you used the spell, downing the assailant

Kai had stared at you with the same wide eyes back then

But now he smiled, feeling grateful that you were always there to help protect those closest to you

Jay

Much like Kai, he’s more than thrilled to mentor you

Most of his teaching consists of him insisting you try things he’s seen in movies and comics

Which makes lessons fun, but disappointing at times when you can’t figure things out

In his excitement sometimes he’ll insist you try your spells on him

This has led to the both of you getting hurt many times

Yet neither of you seem to learn your lesson

He’s quick in getting you out on the field

He wants you to be able to test more dangerous things, and he sees the battlefield as the perfect spot to do so

So he’ll take you along on missions pretty early on, making sure you stick to his side so he can protect you

But when your moment comes, he yanks you forward and pushes you towards the enemy like a rag doll

The slight panic this induces in you amplifies your spells

Once you used a spell that released a bright flash of light at the enemy, blinding them

Jay recognizes the spell

It was much smaller at the time, but you had used it when you were both kids

The power was out at the junkyard, and you were both alone while Ed and Edna went to fix the fuse

Jay was terrified in the dark; he was literally about to have a panic attack when your little cupped hands summoned a ball of light

Mesmerized, he forgot his panic, instead smiling hugely at you

He claps you on the back when he remembers that moment, silently beaming with pride at all the progress you’ve made

Cole

He thinks being a magic mentor sounds pretty cool, so of course he agrees when you ask for some lessons

He’s a really chill teacher; almost to an annoying extent

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he just shrugs and asks what you think

(Which happens more often than you’d like)

He won’t encourage you to try more dangerous things until you’re ready though

He always reminds you to be careful and not overwork yourself

Progress is slow, partly because you’re pretty much guiding your own training

He’s just there to support you

Eventually he decides that you’re ready for some real action

Well. Long story short you ended up falling off a cliff with him

But you used a spell that froze you midair right before you hit the ground

You both planted your feet safely on the ground, quaking from the adrenaline

Cole is reminded of a strikingly similar moment from your childhood

You were rehearsing a dance routine on stage

He wasn’t paying attention, and he ended up twirling right off the stage

But luckily you were there, and you froze him in the air when his face was mere inches from the floor

He had hugged and thanked you profusely that day, and he did the same now, lifting you off your shaky feet and kissing your cheek endlessly

Lloyd

He has some experience with magic, but not enough to make him a very competent teacher

He’s humble when he teaches you, always admitting when he isn’t sure

He’ll go with you to find out more when there’s something he doesn’t know

You always learn together :)

He makes sure you don’t push yourself too hard; he knows what that’s like, and it isn’t fun

So your training is a little slow but very steady

He lets you decide when you’re ready to go on missions

He trusts you to know your own capabilities, so if you think you can hold your own, then you can hold your own

That doesn’t mean he’s any less impressed when you turn your opponent into a ferret

He remembers when you pulled a similar move several years ago

You were both cornered by bullies, with Lloyd in front, trying to protect you

Suddenly you pushed past him, pointing your finger at the main culprit and turning him into a mouse

The effect only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for you both to get away

Lloyd laughed aloud at the memory, ruffling your hair proudly

Nya

At first she readily agrees to help train you

But as time progresses, it becomes obvious how incompetent you both are in magical knowledge

She knows a bit, but not nearly enough to coach a fledgling witch

She gets almost as frustrated as you when you try and fail to learn spells

But she calls on her knowledge from her own training, and she realizes that first she needs to fix your attitudes

So you both adopt a more “go with the flow”-esque style, and the spells start clicking

You both glow with excitement at each new mastered concept

High fives all around!! :D

She’s eager to get you on the battlefield; she knows how much it sucks to have to wait

You come to a massive gorge on your first mission, one too big to jump across

You use your magic to create a bridge, allowing everyone to cross safely

As she crosses, Nya recalls seeing a similar miracle performed by you in the past

You had both gone out to pick flowers in the woods

There was a flash flood while you were out, and the little creek you had to cross to get home had become a raging cascade of impassable muddy water

But you had used your little bridge spell, and you both made it safely home

Nya remembers that day fondly, and takes much pride in knowing how far you’ve come since then

Thank you for your request my love!! And thanks for reading, take care little squirrels <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago headcannons #lloyd garmadon #cole brookstone #jay walker #kai smith #nya smith #zane julien #cole ninjago #kai ninjago #zane ninjago #ninjago cole #jay ninjago #nya ninjago

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maiios · 7 months

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hi hi!! I have a question! I know they use solar power but I'm curious: would it be possible to have a more long term power source like a miniaturized rare mass faction cell? It sounds like that would be more efficient as well, since well solar can't charge at night

With this resource available, us, iterators' physical capabilities far surpass countless creatures who we encounter during our expeditions. It is quite handy in order to make extensive jumps and consequential combat techniques. I do admit, walking was rudimentary in order to learn how to do the impressive backflips that Ruffles can do!

Sigg- Ahem, No Significant Harassment was actually the one that physically came over to my can to help modify my puppet as soon ans he figured out how to do it with the rest of my remaining local group. I am forever grateful to him, for she always sacrifices and gives so much to me. I don't know how else to repay him for all that he has done.

#rain world #looks to the moon #iterators #rw looks to the moon #rw lttm #rw dried au #dried asks #mai's art load

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ryin-silverfish · 13 days

Text

LMK Fanfic: The Wild Son

AO3 Mirror

Nezha-centric one-shot. Or, "how the Third Lotus Prince learns to stop worrying and enjoy the exploration of death."

CW for suicide and extensive discussions of it. Similar to my previous story, this is very FSYY-inspired, which is shorthand for "pretty fucked-up".

Y'know, with the novel's version of Nezha's suicide being the most graphic and all.

...

The Devaraja of the North has a wild son, who bows not to his father, only the Buddha. The Buddha knows of his stubborn unreason, and sets upon his father's left hand, a pagoda.

——Su Zhe, "Nezha"

Over the years, he had really come to loathe That Look.

You know, when these brats (technically, all mortals are kids to him) learned of his suicide and just gaped at him in wide-eyed horror. Usually followed by an "I'm so sorry" or "It's not your fault" or the slightly less grating "Man, your father sucks."

Duh, Dragonhorse Girl. Duh. But anyone who talked shit about Li Jing was in his good books, and he could at least appreciate Mei's straightforward nature.

Still, whatever prior impressions he left, he knew he was now seven years old and hurting again in their eyes, and would never stop being so.

And it drove him nuts, because 1) it didn't even hurt all that much, and 2) why is offing yourself suddenly such a big deal? Apart from some ol' Confucian bores' rants about unfilial conduct, no participants in the War of Investiture had ever batted an eye at his death and resurrection; the problem was with what he did immediately afterward.

That said, death in the War of Investiture wasn't final, logical, or that big a deal either, until it suddenly was.

...

Unlike killing, death didn't get less confusing even after you've kicked the bucket once. Nor was spending your time as a spooky ghost and getting your godhood rudely interrupted helpful, when it came to understanding the boundary between gods and ghosts, and how some people could come back but not the others.

Well, according to The Patricidal 7-years-old's Guide to Death and Deification:

People die when they get killed.

At which point they turn into a ghost, and float around going "Woe is meeeeee!" for a while before moving on to their next lives.

Unless they don't want to move on. In that case, they just haunt the living out of spite, and to get free stuff.

But wait! If enough people treat the ghost like a god and give them offerings, they'll become one and...dunno, make a new body outta faith or something.

If someone's name is on The List, it's totally okay to kill them because they'll become gods after death.

Wait, isn't that dragon prince's name on The List too? Then why is his dad so angry when he killed him?

And sometimes, a Daoist master just pops a pill into the recently dead guy's mouth and they are alive again.

It took him a surprisingly long time to realize that The List was not all it's cracked up to be, and was basically the Poor Man's Godhood. Or that knowing someone would come back in the end didn't make their absence hurt any less. Or that they could come back, but would remain forever out of reach, shackled by the duties of godhood and the chains of causes and consequences.

And even when a quick resurrection was possible, every death scarred the soul, making it fray and tear at the seams. Seven was the maximum. After dying and coming back seven times like poor Senior Uncle Jiang Ziya, not even The List could take your soul without it exploding into a billion little ghostfires that had more in common with ambience Qi than any living spirits.

He wondered if his inability to understand this fuss around offing yourself had something to do with a scar, too.

But which one? Was it the first and most gruesome one, where returning your flesh and blood also meant ripping out the itty bitty pieces of souls that were embedded in them, clinging to your father and mother like muscle membranes on a bone? Was it the one that looked like an ugly crack on a gilded statue, widening, spreading, until it shattered altogether? Was it not a single scar, but a bunch of little holes in his essence, like wormbites on a leaf, or a pool of oozing sludge left by the Blood-melting Knife?

Assuming he still had a soul in the first place, of course. Maybe instead of a soul, there's only one huge patch of scar tissue where his three souls and seven spirits used to be, red and fibrous and angry.

Yeah, try pulling *that* out of his body with a spell, suckers.

...

A popular god gains new domains like new year gifts. Namely, you seldom receive the ones you want, are stuck with the ones you were tired of, and have no idea where that pile over there even came from.

Sun Wukong shared a domain with him as the protector of youth, a fact he was strangely okay with. He took the silly and mischievous ones, while Nezha dealt with the moody, rebellious ones. An amicable arrangement, as far as dispute between overlapping domains went; were they ever to switch places, the result would be a disaster.

This, however, was when a joint operation would be really helpful.

Alas, he had no such luck. So here he was, sitting in the Megapolis Children's Hospital's inpatient ward, next to a girl with owl-like eyes and tubes inside her nose, who asked him "Being dead, what does that even mean?"

...

Nothing, 'cause it's something that happens to other people. That was how he would have answered this question, back when he was still a real kid, and not an 18-foot-tall immortal plant construct who could choose to look like a kid.

He did wish people would recognize him as something other than "god of youth", though. Or realize his older forms existed too. Somehow, when Jinzha's master appeared as a little boy with five hair buns, people didn't stop worshipping Old Dude Wenshu or Graceful Bodhisattva Wenshu, but one too many adaptations later, Nezha was just THE Kid God, and not also the Three-headed Six-armed War God of Setting Things On Fire.

Bah.

But this was about Nezha the human (was he ever human, though, with the whole Spirit Pearl thing?) and Nezha the kid, not Nezha, Marshal of the Central Altar. Who didn't quite realize death was real, as in, a thing you should try to avoid for both yourself and others, and had been told that it was his destiny to dish out death to people in some epic upcoming war.

Master Taiyi, bless the old immortal, was a perfect case of someone who clearly cared so much, yet still managed to fuck up so badly.

For all his grudges against Jinzha's master (less about the whipping, and more about his damn cat killing the Jade Emperor), Wenshu made some good points: You did not tell a kid that you would protect him from all the consequences of his actions, then set him loose and expect him to not wreak havoc on unintended targets.

...

"What do you mean?"

He'd admit, this was not his finest hour. You weren't supposed to answer a question with a question, at least not in a way that didn't make you seem all mysterious and wise.

"I..." She trailed off. "I mean, I feel dead people all the time. Brushing past me, being all chilly and stuff. Since I'm gonna be joining you guys soon, I just wanna know...how it's like." The corner of her mouth twitched; either a grimace, or an attempt at smiling. "And you feel nicer than the others. Warmer, too."

He was no god of medicine, no matter how much he wished he could be one right now. Yet he could see the flames of her three souls, dimming with every passing second, as well as the blocks in her Qi flow, with one right behind her eyelids. Her sight was already gone, and in a week, these flames would go out entirely.

Sickness, he could heal, but not a passing ordained by the Book of Life and Death. As tempting as it was to pull a Sun Wukong, if he was to remove the name of one person, what was stopping him from removing another? And another? Before he knew, he'd be striking the name of every good person off it, and only chaos could result from that.

His gaze shifted to a small charm, fastened onto the bedframes with red strings. Made of peachwood, glowing gently in his vision, accompanied by the wisps of a prayer. Please watch over her, and take away her pain. Please don't let her face this alone.

Slowly, he extended a hand towards her, a tiny spark of pink flame dancing on his fingertip. If there were still ghosts in this room that hadn't fled when he first came in, they were definitely gone by now, as the darkness dispered in a surge of Yang-aligned Qi.

"...Wow." She visibly relaxed, with a sigh. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Are you...also a kid, when you...you know? You sound like one."

"Yeah. But I've been dead for a long time. Long before this hospital was built." He let out a dry laugh. "I guess you could say I'm a professional at this whole 'death' thing."

"Huh. I thought after a while, people just...move on."

"They do, if they aren't trying to avoid the ghost cops. The Heibai Wuchang," he said. "Nowadays, they dress like cops too, but they show up for everyone, to take them to the Underworld. Not just bad ghosts that need to be arrested."

"What's the Underworld like?"

"Dunno. Never been down there." This was partially true. At the time of his death, the Underworld bureaucracy did not exist yet. Most of his knowledge of its workings came from chatting with Huang Tianhua, whose father was deified as the King of Mt.Tai, former head of the Ten Kings. "But you seem like a good egg, so they would send you straight to the Naihe Bridge, and onto your next life."

"That's...good to hear," she said. "I wanna know more about the, uh, ghost part, though. Does it stop hurting when you die? I've been...hurting for so long, I'm starting to forget what it's like, before...this."

"Yeah, the pain stops," he answered, "but so does everything else. You just stop feeling things altogether. Smell, touch, warm and cold and all that jazz." He paused. "Being a ghost is very, very boring."

"And you still don't wanna go with the ghost cops?"

"Well, I killed myself, and that gets you stuck in the City of Wrongful Death." He blurted out, before realizing that this was the worse moment to be honest, and braced himself for the awkwardness to come.

"Sounds like an awful place."

"Pretty much. They said it was just full of depressed ghosts, being depressing together," he chuckled. "Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll pass."

"Glad I didn't...go through with it, then." She said, then quietly added, "I nearly did, when the pain got too much, and the cost just kept rising."

Well, that wasn't quite what he expected. But he wasn't too surprised, either.

...

They thought his suicide was an act of despair. It was insulting, honestly. Both to the strength of his will and spite, and his unconventional problem solving skills.

See, when people said that your body and skin and hair were given to you by your parents, the implicit message was So you can't do anything to them, and They own you, every bit of you, and above all, Obey.

You weren't supposed to give them back, not so flippantly. Yet it was the simplest, most obvious solution, in the same way beating up the dragon king who tried to sue you was. (Guess he really was Taiyi's student.)

At the heat of the moment, it was quite thrilling. Almost liberating. Like a snake shedding its skin, a baby bird breaking out of its eggshells. As the raging storm and roaring tides drowned out Fate and Destiny's ever-tolling bells, for a second, he really felt like this was the end.

No more Spirit Pearl, no more unruly child, woe of his mother, doom of his lineage. No more Li Jing, no more questionable advices from Taiyi, no stupid dragon kings, and none of that Vanguard of the Zhou Army crap. Just a kid sacrificing himself, laughing and laughing until he chocked on his own blood.

Just Nezha.

But obviously, things didn't end here. Death rarely was the true end, nor did it tie things up neatly, like cutting through a knot with a sword. It was more akin to what you got when you broke a lotus root in half, full of sticky, near-invisible threads, stretching on and on between the scattered pieces.

...

Believe it or not, this wasn't the first time he had to deal with suicide, kids, or suicidal kids. Especially after gaining one of his more recent domains. He is the protector of all young people, regardless of who they fancy or whether their bodies match their souls, it was just that those who didn't fit the common denominator tended to get a lot of shit for existing.

(As annoying as the "Third Princess" nickname was, he had no problem with people finding strength and comfort in his legends, in severing ties, defying norms, and blossoming inside a changed body. After all, that was what gods were; a mirror that reflected the worshippers' beliefs and needs back at them.)

A few decades ago, he was summoned by a teen, standing on the bank of a river, holding a stick of incense. Dunno where, just that it was a Hokkien-speaking area and one of his temples was nearby.

They gave him a hopeful look when he showed up, emerging out of the water like an actual lotus plant, yet remaining miraculously dry. As hopeful as someone in their circumstance could manage, at least.

"Is it okay if I ask you to curse my parents?"

"If that's what you want, you are praying to the wrong god," he replied. "And the kind of gods who accept such requests will make you pay a price you are never ready for."

"Damn. Guess I'll just have to come back and haunt them myself, then."

They knelt down to stick the incense into the mud, then started wading their way into the shallows. He sighed, and they were promptly dragged back by his red sash, struggling furiously.

"Let go of me!" They screamed, muddy water splashing beneath their sneakers. "W-Why? I don't get it! Why are YOU stopping me? You, of all gods! The child who hacked himself to pieces, and tried to kill his asshole dad——"

"And got a burning pagoda dropped on him for his troubles." He said flatly. "Need I remind you that it all took place a thousand years ago, and I'm no longer out for his blood?"

"Oh, so they'd beaten it out of you! Good for you, I guess." They snapped. "But not me. Why would you even care if a freak like me died or not?"

"gin-na, you just admit you are gonna become a vengeful spirit. And I literally have 'subduing demons and harmful spirits' in my job description. So maybe, maybe, I'm gonna have a problem with that?"

"Even if they totally have it coming?" They retorted. The first two buttons of their collars had come loose in the struggle, exposing the ugly patch of bruised purple around their neck, as well as implications of worse things. "I thought gods were all for karmic justice."

"Especially if they have it coming," he said. "Which is why I'm stopping you. It's not gonna work."

"What does that even mean?"

"Ugh. Look. Suppose I let you drown, without alerting any ghostly officials. Suppose that you come back, haunt your parents night and day, and don't get yourself exorcised. Suppose that you inflict on them the same torment you were subjected to, and drive them to madness or some other gruesome ends." He said. "Then what? What are you gonna do afterwards?"

"I'll just...move on, I guess."

"To do that, you 'll have to cross the Naihe Bridge. And the Underworld officials won't let you off the hook that easily, not after you've accumulated all this negative karma by haunting the living." He shook his head. "I heard they take 'Hell is other people' quite literally, and punish people who hated each other by throwing both parties into the same Minor Hell, giving them a pile of lethal weapons, and resurrecting whichever side that gets killed. Over and over again."

He leaned closer. "Is that what you really want? Getting stuck in the same pit with your parents for centuries to come? Mind you, even if you get tired of the violence, you are not allowed to quit until the Underworld officials let you."

Came to think of it, that was the War of the Investiture in a nutshell. No one was allowed to quit, not even in death.

"...No," they mumbled, after a long silence. "But it's still tempting. At least I'll get to do something to them."

"Well, here's a thing you can do to them."

"What?"

"Live."

"That's it? Seriously?" They stared at him in disbelief. "Because I own it to them? Because my very existence is a mistake or something?"

"No. Because you own it to yourself," he said, "and it is only a mistake if you believe so, and if they think you are a mistake, there's no better way to prove them wrong and rub it in their faces than keep existing. Think of it like this——you ain't gonna help them get rid of you, are you?"

"Well, if you put it that way..." they paused. "But I'll still be depriving them of their favorite punching bag, at least."

"Is that what you think you are?"

"It's what I have been for the past few years."

"Yeah, sorry, but hell no. You can be way, way more than that." He grinned. "Why be a punching bag, when you can be their worst nightmare instead?"

"I thought you don't want me to haunt my parents?"

"Oh, no. You are gonna drive them nuts in a whole different manner: by growing into a successful, well-adjusted adult they no longer have any power over," his grin widened, "And watch them age into bitter, miserable old farts who'll die alone and forgotten, knowing that the moment they die, they'll be dragged straight into one of the Hells in chains, suffer for untold eons, and probably spend their next life as ants."

"That is...satisfying, not gonna lie." They bit into their lips. "But until then, I'll still be stuck with them. Thanks for the reassurance, though."

"Does that mean if I let go of you now, you aren't gonna dash into the river?"

Upon receiving a nod, he whistled, and his sash loosened around the teen, floating back onto his shoulders. They staggered back; he prepared himself, watching out for tensed muscles and all the little tells of someone who was going to make a run for it. Thankfully, he spotted none, as they retreaded their steps back onto dry land, one muddy footprint at a time.

He wasn't entirely convinced that they wouldn't change their mind later, but it was a good start. And he had just the idea to make it an even better start.

His fingers started twisting in a mudra, weaving together threads of pink and golden light into the shape of his signature seal. No, he definitely didn't enjoy the kid's quiet gasp of wonder, as a lotus-patterned token fell out of thin air and right into his hands. It wasn't like he was a show-off or anything, unlike that ape.

"Here. Take this. Go to—" He paused and cursed himself. Dammit, he kept forgetting that mortals couldn't just sense temples and their giant beacons of faith. "Do you know there's a temple over there?" He pointed east, "Like, in that direction?"

"You mean Taizi Gong? Yeah." They nodded. "Grandma used to take me there."

"If you ever need a meal, or a place to stay the night, just show this token to the staff, and they'll help you out." He narrowed his eyes, and said the next sentence very slowly. "Also, if your life is ever in serious danger, like, no-time-to-call-the-cops danger, just hold it tight, say my name, and point it at whatever is threatening you. Do. Not. Use. It. Lightly. Understood?"

He intentionally let out a bit of his killer aura, as he uttered the last few words. Not hard to muster, considering the circumstances that first drove him to develop this token system. It was always awful when he was too late in his interventions, but he swore to the Three Pure Ones, if anyone ever triggered the spell with a prank call, when he arrived at the scene, they'd wish they got caught in the explosions instead.

They paled and nodded in quick succession, then started to turn away. Before remembering something, and coming to a halt mid-step.

"I...I don't even know how to thank you." They shook their head. "If it was too early for that. If 'Thanks' is even enough. But if you are right and I do find my way out of this mess, I'm building you a temple, Third Prince."

...

A temple. Build me a temple, mother. Build me a temple, mother, for I'm cold without a body, hungry without a stomach. He remembered himself crying out, once. Build me a temple so I can be back at your side again, isn't that what you want? What you said you would give up everything for, as you picked up my pieces and buried them in a shallow grave?

Build me a temple, or you'll never know peace again.

The most frustrating part wasn't how much he sounded like the sorts of ghosts he'd beat up later, a lot, as Marshal of the Central Altar. It was the lack of context. As in, there was no memory of the before and after. Just words echoing in a vaccum, with neither pain nor sensations attached.

It was the same whenever he helped a mortal. It was the feeling he got when, twenty years later, he stood in front of a temple gate, watching the person in a suit cut the red ribbons during its opening ceremony, and thought, I've done something like this before, long ago, inside my first temple.

But I can't remember what it was, or for whom.

He knew that was how ghosts became gods. Three souls attracted by the fragrance of incense, seven spirits nourished by the ashes of burnt offerings. Ten shades of a person, molded back together into something more than the sum of its parts, by countless mud-stained, callused hands, clasped together in prayer.

He'd watched it happen before, on the coasts of Fujian. Little Lin Mo Niang, disappearing beneath the waves, only to rise out of the tides later as Mazu, guiding fisherfolks and sailors to shore with her gentle red light, just like she did in life.

Or maybe he had more in common with Guan Yu. The fugitive, the warrior with the might of a thousand man, the loyal companion. Who, despite his promise in the peach garden, did not die on the same day as his sworn brothers. Specifically, how his vengeance and fury used to hang over Jingzhou like a plague, how his name was once whispered in fear, before it became the synonym of loyalty, brotherhood and martial virtue.

Perhaps ghosts became gods when mortals poured pieces of themselves into them, filling up the holes in their psyche. Making them more human than they ever were, and could be.

Thanks to Li Jing's destruction of his idol, he'd never know.

That——that was what sent him onto his roaring rampage of revenge, right after reviving in his lotus body. After everything else had been bled dry, rage was all he had. Like thick black tar, sticking to the bottom of a broken jar.

...

"What stopped you?" He asked, without really knowing why.

"My legs. Literally. They don't work anymore. And I'm...gonna die anyways, it's not really worth the effort..." Her breath hitched in her throat, yet she still managed to squeeze out the last few words, "Then my mom came back."

"I...I'm still a little mad that she left in the first place, like, long before this. But she had a nice singing voice, when she wasn't crying, and," she sighed, "didn't start arguing with dad again. She said I had a new little brother, and showed me the photos...and I was just like, hey, he looks like a raisin, and they laughed, and I haven't heard either of them laugh in a long, long time..."

She was starting to look dazed, stuck in that liminal space between dream and awakeness.

"And I, I wouldn't mind hurting a lil' longer, if it means I get to have more moments like that."

What if you don't? A part of him wanted to ask. What if those moments are no more than baits on a straight hook, carrots on a stick, making it so that you are willing to hurt longer and longer until it's not even fleeting happiness you seek, just the mere promise of release?

But that was the bitterest, crueler part, and it could fuck right off.

"I'm sure they are glad to have you, too." In the end, that was all he managed to say, in a whisper she might or might not have heard, and only got a small yawn in return.

"Well, you sound like you're about to doze off. So I won't keep you up any longer," he said. "Any last questions, before I go?"

"What do you...look like?"

"Huh?"

"When I die, I'll get to...see things again, right?" She asked. "And you can't be the only kid here. Just...wanna...go over and say hello, before the ghost cops come."

"Oh, I'm very recognizable. You don't see a lot of folks with twin hair buns nowadays." He laughed softly. "And I promise you, when the time comes, I'll be right here, inside this very room."

"Thanks," she nodded. "G-G'night, ghost friend."

"Farewell, and sleep tight."

...

When did you stop being fun? Sun Wukong asked him, once.

When you started being nothing but jokes, he wanted to scream back. When you shut yourself in your cave for five hundred years to take a depression nap, while I drain just as much power answering the prayers of mortals as I get from their worship, and my true body is stuck guarding the fire that burn away worlds. When Yang Jian had stopped giving a crap about everything that happened outside of his precious Sichuan, me included.

When I grow the fuck up, monkey. We all do, sooner or later, yet you never seem to.

But then he remembered the look on Sun Wukong's face, as the mountain came down. A look he had seen on the faces of so many souls, as they were called up the Terrace of the Investiture.

It was Ao Guang clutching onto his son's tendons with trembling, scaly hands. It was his mother kneeling in the dirt, begging for his life and unlife. It was him handing Huang Tianhua's head back to Huang Feihu. The eldest of Zhao Gongming's three sisters, muttering a quiet "Sorry, brother" before she was swept away by Lao Tzu's scroll. Guang Chengzi looking Yin Jiao in the eyes, as they dragged his plow up the hill.

It was a monk postponing his Buddhahood in favor of the path of the Bodhisattva, swearing a vow that, for every life, he should learn the meaning of compassion anew, and teach it to others.

A pig who was once a marshal, too weighed down by his desires to attain enlightenment, who nonetheless went on to live a good life, full of good food and few regrets.

A soldier made into a monster after one simple mistake, who decided he was better than that, and, with quiet determination, followed his brother and master into samsara as their guardian.

It was a white dragon, destined to set things aflame and be consumed by flames, yet burning brightly all the same, a goofy grin on his face.

So he just gritted his teeth and kept on fighting. It was what he was made for, what he always did.

And it wasn't enough.

...

But when was anything ever enough? When did Fate or Destiny ever pat anyone on the head, and tell them they did a good job, and they'd be free of suffering, just like that?

When were there ever easy answers, for mortals and gods alike?

Azure Lion thought there would be one, that the right person on the throne could magically make it all better, and he shattered trying to make himself into that person.

One step at a time. One answer at a time. A promise kept, a visit made. That was how you do it.

After all, the great lump of molten colors Nüwa used to seal the cracks in the sky——they were but little pebbles too, once upon a time.

...

"Told you I'll be here." That was the first thing he said, as he unsummoned his wheels and sat down in midair, cross-legged.

"Oh. Well. I," The translucent girl let out a small laugh. She tried to scratch her head, before realizing she couldn't anymore. "I certainly wasn't imagining this, when you said 'twin hair buns'."

"Do you have reasons to, though?" He asked. "People usually don't see the Third Lotus Prince on their deathbeds."

"No. But it's pretty obvious in hindsight, with the warmth and all these little hints." She shook her head. "Dangit. Now I just feel kinda dumb. Still, it's good to see you again, sir...Third Prince?"

"Nezha would do. I suppose I make much better company than the ghost cops, right?"

Behind the hospital screen, the man wearing a tall black hat grumbled something about people not appreciating their jobs, before being cut off by a "Ha! Checkmate, Lao Fan!"

"Yeah. It's a little distracting when you were dying, and two guys were just having a chess game five feet away," she said. "The cheerful one is a better player, though."

"Only because you keep giving him tips!" The man snarked back. "How does it feel like to cheat via a dying kid, Xiao Xie? I bet you feel real proud of yourself right now."

"How does it feel like to lose to a dying kid?" His colleague laughed, sticking his tongue out way further than any living humans were capable of, or comfortable with. "She gave you tips too, you just aren't good enough to use them well. And she's good. Real good. This one thinks she may just be a chess champion in her next life!"

"Thank you, Mister Xie. I learned it from my grandpa."

It was such a blessing that these two didn't exist yet, at the time of his death. As grim and thankless as their duties were, Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu were also the most annoying pair of ghosts he ever met, the former taking nothing seriously and the latter taking everything way too seriously.

"Hey. You two, shut up and show some respect." He snapped, before turning to the girl. "I'm sorry you have to endure their presence."

"That's right, Xiao Xie! Even the Third Lotus Prince tires of you and your constant jesting!"

"This one thinks if we pay our proper respect to everyone that has ever died, we'll have no time to actually do our job." Xie chuckled. "Besides, he is clearly talking about the one who is constantly yelling, and incapable of losing gracefully. But alright, this one shall do as you command."

"...Let's go talk somewhere else." He sighed. "These two clowns are giving me a headache."

She giggled a little, as the screen parted with a wave of his hand, revealing the two psychopomps sitting on the nearby bed. "Their hats do look like clown hats."

"The clowns can hear you, you know?" Fan snarked, before picking up his baton and making a gesture in their direction. "Whatever. Begone. And remember our deal: you have four hours. Not a second more, not a second less. Understood?"

"Did you just admit to being a clown too?" Xie grinned. "This one does think a red nose will suit you well."

"Sometimes I seriously wonder why I ever agreed to become your sworn brother, Xiao Xie."

He led the girl out of the room, just as medical personnels started coming in, carefully concealing his presence from the mortals' eyes. The girl made a face when her hand passed through the doorframe, but quickly recovered.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you like." He replied. "Your home, your old school, that really cool arcade or amusement park you never get a chance to visit...and you don't have to choose one. Distance is not a factor at all," with a blaze of pink fire, his wheels were back under his boots again, "when I'm the god of speedy drivers. So take your time."

"Hmmm. I think," she said, after a long silence, "I wanna go see my mom, and my little brother first. Is that okay?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Let's be on our way, then."

"Alright. Leeeego!"

#lego monkie kid #lmk fanfiction #nezha #lmk nezha #journey to the west #investiture of the gods

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blurredcolour · 6 months

Text

The Night Moves | Part Four

The Night Moves Masterlist

Alternate Universe

Vampire Hunterl!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; Vampire!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader

Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence, Blood, Major Character Death, Serious Reader Injury, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only

Author's Note: My Halloween party got crashed by COVID so surprise! Here is the second-last installment a few days early. Please be advised that two men go into this chapter and only one makes it out. You Have Been Warned!!

Word Count: 3933

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-Friday-

Waking the next morning to news of more murders in the neighborhood, it was no surprise that Bradley had insisted on driving you into work. It had not made the drive any less awkward, however. Loaded silence pervaded the apartment while you ate a quick breakfast and followed you into the Bronco until he had eventually surrendered to turning on the radio. You had parted with a barely audible ‘thanks’ at the curb before hurrying into work, not wanting to spend another moment in forced to be in his proximity. Tears had already broken through your resolve after you shut the bedroom door last night and you would have been loathe to give him the satisfaction of seeing fresh ones today.

Despite your intentions when declining Amira’s invite the night before, you had not taken that bath nor gone to bed early. Nor had your sleep been of any quality. Thankfully she arrived armed with an extensive make-up kit, nearly double the size of the one you had thrown into your bag that morning, and dedicated nearly all of the thirty minutes you had to get ready on making you look quite presentable. The bandage on your wrist was explained away easily as a cooking accident, though as Bradley predicted, it itched terribly. Utilizing the single-stalled washroom across the hall, you slid into the floor-length gown she had lent you, smoothing it over your curves.

You took a moment to appreciate the way the colour of it brought out your eyes. To marvel at the skill of Amira’s make-up. You looked good – vampire hunters plagued by latent professionalism be damned. Taking a deep breath and setting your chin at a confident angle you stepped out of the washroom to allow Amira a chance to change as well before the pair of you hurried to Flag Hall. Waiting there for you was the box of five hundred pouches, ready to be set out at each of the place settings on the banquet tables. Under the watchful eye of Caroline from Resource Development, one pouch was set at the top of each place, resting against the menu card, until three hundred and fifty were put out. The remainder would be given as gifts to the staff volunteering their time and a few select guests attending the cocktail hour but not staying for the seated dinner.

With that duty discharged, you were then seated at the registration table, assigned to different portions of the alphabet. You were responsible for checking in guests with last names from S to Z. The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of greetings and checking off names before the four lists were consolidated down to one. You and Amira were released from your obligations to go enjoy the remainder of the cocktail party and she quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Snagging a glass of one from one of the circling trays, you took a fortifying sip of wine before seeking out someone you knew, grateful when one of the department heads pulled you into a conversation already in progress with a few generous donors. Disappointingly, you found your tolerance for answering the same questions, discussing the same topics, having the same conversation repeatedly as you circulated the room wore thin with shocking speed. Instead, a scream began to build in the back of your throat, begging to be unleashed, and you set your second empty wine glass down on a nearby table with a touch more force than intended before quickly making your way from the hall.

Because whatever was about to fly out of your mouth – the truth that Bradley had revealed to you last night, or perhaps your sheer frustration with him for his lack of transparency whilst toying with your affections, or better yet how frivolous this gala felt in the face of the dead bodies that seemed to be falling in your wake…well more accurately Jacob’s wake as he followed you – it most certainly did not need an audience.

Making your way through the locked doors with your swipe card back to the sanctity of your workspace, you felt the urge to wail lessen the further you got away from the crowd. The frantic pace of your steps eased. Perhaps it was just time to go home. Sighing the last of the tension from your body, you opened the door to the intern office and nearly tripped over your dress as the long-legged lieutenant sat, swivelling idly in your computer chair.

“Ah.” He grinned broadly and stood smoothly, obviously having been waiting for you. His eyes raked over your form as he drank in your appearance. “You look truly divine this evening, pet.”

Stumbling backward, you winced as the harsh edges of the door frame jabbed into your shoulder blade. “What are you doing in here…how did you…” Your pulse rabbited in your throat as it felt terribly difficult to take a deep breath. His clothing had changed – a dress shirt that fit him perfectly, hinting at the musculature that lay beneath, and a pair of black slacks with a charcoal grey pea coat hanging open over top. No doubt stolen from one of the many corpses he had been leaving in your neighborhood, your mind supplied, causing your palms to grown damp with fear.

“Easy, pet, I missed you. There is no need to be quite so afraid.” Jacob soothed, stepping closer.

You shook your head violently. “I know what you are.” You hissed and pressed tighter to the door frame, away from him, legs wobbling slightly beneath your dress. You glanced behind him to your desk where your phone was locked away in a drawer…Bradley might as well have been on the moon for how easily you could reach him now. Yet thinking of your usual savior also brought with it a new bitterness that had you furrowing your brows.

“Then you know what I want.” Jacob murmured, stalking closer to trail a frigid forefinger down your cheek.

Your eyes flicked to his face, focusing on his unnaturally luminous green eyes as you swallowed nervously. “Were,” you began, hesitated, but set your jaw in determination and continued, “were you really there?”

He arched an eyebrow, silently prompting you to expound on your question.

“During the War of Independence?” You clarified, sinking your teeth into your lower lip anxiously as he was awfully close and more than a little lethal.

His eyes glinted ominously as he seized upon something you desired. “I most certainly was. Born in 1760, came of age in the thick of it. Why do you ask?” He tilted his head in feigned innocence.

You exhaled shakily, trying desperately to smother your excitement at the idea of a firsthand source for a long passed historical era. Yet as you attempted to focus on Bradley’s warning that the man who had lived through that time period had been murdered to give birth to the creature before you, all you felt was the sting of his rejection. The questions you longed to pose to the lieutenant were endless. Right before you was a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn from someone who had been there.

“You are fairly teeming with questions, are you not, pet?” There was a derogatory edge to his tone. A smugness at having sniffed out something you desired. “The information only I could provide would certainly be quite the feather in your cap. Surely would secure your place within this palace of stolen things.” He smirked, drawing your gaze to his striking white teeth.

Reluctantly, you nodded, lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. “Yes.” You admitted in a hushed whisper after a moment.

“It seems to me, darling, that we have an opportunity before us. There is something that I greatly desire from you…” He paused, eyes taking a moment to drink in the column of your throat. “…and you in kind from myself. Shall we not make a deal?” He raised an eyebrow.

Alarm bells rung distantly in your consciousness as your hands fisted into the fabric of your dress, awareness of his true nature warring with the desire to learn all that you could from him. A war taking place on an internal battlefield muddled by whatever mental impairment his very presence seemed to inflict upon you. The sound of a door opening down the hall jarred both of you and he looked to you sharply.

“Might we take this somewhere more private?” He asked hurriedly.

“Not my house.” You replied reflexively, able to keep some sense of clarity and recall Bradley’s insistence from the night before. “A hotel.” You nodded to yourself before pushing off the doorframe, past the lieutenant, and toward your desk.

Grabbing a fresh notebook, your phone, extra charger, and shoving it all into your bag, you threw on your jacket before leading him out the delivery entrance. Purposefully avoiding any and all prying eyes – particularly Bradley’s. As you walked, you retrieved your phone to pull up a hotel booking site, snagging a last-minute deal on a room a few blocks away. It was by no means glamorous – a dated, two-star hotel, but all you needed was a place to make a deal with a murderous creature. You did not need to also break the bank to do it.

Fog swirled around the hem of your dress with each step you took as you glanced around nervously, for once hoping not to see any trace of Bradley Bradshaw. The humidity had combined with the frigid air to create an unsettling ambience and the fact that a murderer was following hot on your heels did nothing to ease your tension. You were surprised the grip you held on the pen whilst signing in at the hotel did not cause the writing implement to snap in half. The front desk clerk, mercifully, made no comment on the absence of any and all luggage, handing over the room key with no more than directions to the elevators.

The key chain bearing the room number jangled in your hand as you struggled to align it with the lock, eventually sliding it home and opening the door to a cramped, musty room with a queen size bed and small desk. Jacob slid out of his jacket, finding a hanger in the tiny closet to place it on before reaching a hand out in silent offer to do the same with yours.

You shook your head quickly in refusal and stepped over to the desk, pulling out the chair and perching on the edge of it apprehensively. Jacob chuckled easily and sat on the edge of the bed across from you. The polyester coverlet printed with a patchwork design popular from several decades previous made an aggravating swish sound against his trousers.

“Your terms?” He smirked, clearly at ease as he planted his hands behind his hips, leaning back with casual arrogance.

“Answer my questions. Truthfully.” Came your immediate reply. “As many as I can think of….”

“Within a three-hour time limit.” He countered, eyes narrowing playfully, clearly enjoying himself.

You chewed your lip, briefly concerned it would not be enough time, but the volume of questions that had been welling up inside you would ensure it would be used wisely.

You nodded before asking, “and yours?” loathing the tremble in your voice, even though you were pretty certain what he wanted.

“Let me drink my fill of you…” His voice was thick, roughened by desire, his gaze intense as he spoke.

Your throat constricted nervously, and you swallowed to clear it. “You cannot kill me…” You protested.

“No of course not.” His face took on a mask of tenderness. “What a terrible waste that would be pet…just enough to satisfy.” He assured you.

You sat on the poorly cushioned chair eyeing him warily, heart still beating at quite a steady clip as the potential terms of your agreement hung in the air, awaiting your assent. The factors at play paraded through your hindered consciousness – the danger of him, the opportunity of him, the mix of pain and pleasure offered in his bite. Your hand strayed to your inner wrist absently, scratching futilely through the bandage there. His eyes flickered down to follow the movement, lips stretching wider into a knowing grin.

Blinking in confusion you glanced down to where his gaze was aimed and huffed in frustration at yourself before thrusting your hand out to him to shake. “Deal.”

With a bemused grin he took your hand in his, grip as cold as marble as he shook in agreement.

“I would also hazard a guess that you need some food before we begin, pet? Need you to keep up your strength.” He grinned as he settled back against the headboard, legs stretched out before him.

You frowned slightly as you realized he was right – two glasses of wine and a few canapes were not going to sustain you. Rifling around on the desk you found a room service menu and called down to order the most appetizing thing they had on offer. Plugging your phone into charge, you opened the fresh notebook and started an audio recording in an app. Your last step was to set a timer for one hundred and eighty minutes before looking to the lieutenant.

“Ready?”

“Whenever you are, pet.” He nodded.

Pressing start on your timer, you asked your first question. The question that had been burning in your mind since you had first examined the artifacts three days ago. “Why did you have a coat from both sides?”

“Made my life easier. I could go wherever I wanted, do what I needed to, wearing the colours of convenience.” He answered with open honesty as you began scrawling into your notebook.

You were relieved that he was upholding his side of the bargain and yet felt an increased nervousness at the idea of having made a deal with a man without loyalties.

“What did you do during the war?”

“Joined up, of course. A group of us enlisted in the South Carolina Continental Army shortly after Independence was declared. My father was proud, my mother was less than pleased given than I was only sixteen, but we were caught up in the political fervor, desperate to join the fight that had been brewing for years. I could already shoot better than most of the recruits, and I was good with horses. It was easy to get a promotion to lieutenant. Especially when our soldiers were dropping like flies.” His tone took on an edge of bitterness that had you glancing up from your notes, but he was gazing off toward some unseen memory at the end of the bed.

“It was becoming increasingly apparent that were severely disadvantaged, particularly when it came to our leadership. The great Washington did not make his way south of Virginia, you see, we were left to fend for ourselves in an increasingly desperate fight against a superior enemy. By 1780 Charlestown had fallen to the British and I had no more interest in dying for a lost cause. I fled my post, made my way into the city to make a living off of my connections and the occupying troops desperate for the finer things that were hard to come by.”

A memory of the ledger found inside the sarcophagus, filled with its neat rows of items and prices, flitted through your mind and you swallowed. “A smuggler.”

“Some called me that, yes.” Jacob chuckled, looking to you with a shrug. “I was no longer killing people, my life was more comfortable, how could it not be considered an improvement for everyone involved?”

A knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food, startled you into scratching a jagged line of ink along the margin of your notebook. Exhaling shakily, you stood to go retrieve the tray, finding some loose bills in your bag to tip the porter, before carrying the food in and setting it on the desk. Finding the small room overly warm, you shrugged out of your coat at last, not missing the way Jacob’s eyes traced every inch of skin revealed to him by the action.

“Where did you grow up?” You asked your next question, hoping to divert his attention and not waste any more time than you already had.

Alternating between taking notes and eating bites of your rapidly cooling food, you covered all manner of topics from his upbringing to the ins-and-outs of eighteenth-century smuggling. Your notebook grew increasingly full, the pages curling slightly from your frantic shorthand highlighting thoughts and ideas born from his answers, not wanting to miss any details even though you knew it was also being recorded.

“How did you become a vampire?” You asked just as your alarm chimed and you frowned in dismay. How could three hours have passed already…

“I will give you that one, pet, because I am a man of honor.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up to face you properly. “My trade had me working with all manner of people, procuring all sorts of items. That is where I first encountered the children of the night. I provided them with what I thought was traditional evening entertainment, but they were soon having me disposing of the leftover pale corpses with ravaged throats. After much persuasion they promised me eternal life…” He laughed bitterly.

“I had barely paid the price of high-value Continental Army information – no sooner had I been turned when the ancestors of your handsome Bradley,” you breath hitched in your throat and his eyes flashed with irritation “showed up for all of us. They promised me a way out, passage back to England. They locked me in that box with my consent. With the understanding that I would be freed as soon as I was aboard a ship out of this place. But instead, I lay there forgotten, my veins running dry, rasping against my skin until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Until a few days ago when your sweet blood fell upon my lips, bringing me back. Now,” his eyes darkened as he stood, looming over you, “you have had your fun. It is my turn.”

He leaned forward, lips parted, baring elongated fangs as he prepared to bite your neck, but you planted a firm hand against his chest, pen still threaded through your fingers. “Wait…s…somewhere it can’t be seen….” You pleaded shakily.

He pulled back with a growing smirk before sinking to his knees before you, fingers seeking the skin of your ankles beneath your dress. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at his cool touch, watching with bated breath as his hands rose up your legs, the hem of your dress gathering at his wrists. Your hands fell to clutch at the arm rests of the chair as he eased your knees apart, inhaling your scent greedily. You could feel each rapid beat of your heart lodged in your throat, shifting slightly at the feel of warmth gathering at the apex of your thighs, certain Jacob was more than aware of the effect his proximity was having on your traitorous body as he grew ever closer to that warmth.

With one final glance up at you he at last turned his head to sink his fangs into the supple flesh of your inner thigh. Your head fell back between your shoulders with a ragged moan, one which he echoed against your skin, your body trembling in response. A mixture of pain and pleasure rocketed through your body as he began to feed, drawing your blood from the bite wound, making you writhe beneath him. A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as his hands moved to pin your hips, holding you in place as he swallowed greedily.

Gradually your grip on the arms of the chair weakened, the beat of your heart dropped to a normal tempo before becoming sluggish beneath your rib caged. Rolling your head forward, you feebly tried to push his mouth away, afraid he was drinking too much. The lieutenant did not budge, eyes closed in ecstasy, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully, as he continued to drink.

“Jacob…” You whimpered weakly. “We…had a deal…” You panted in an odd cocktail of frantic languidness.

A terrific thud suddenly collided with the door, but you barely had the wherewithal to flinch in reaction. It was followed by several more before the door frame gave away with the horrific screech of protesting metal and wood. Through heavy eyelids you watched a slightly winded Bradley Bradshaw hurtle into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the scene – Jacob’s position between your legs, your inability to lift your own head. In a swift movement blurred by your weakened state, he was suddenly grasping a stake in his fist, his knuckles gone white from the force with which he held the weapon. Jacob, meanwhile, remained suctioned to your flesh like an overgrown leech, oblivious to all around him.

Bradley wasted no time, drawing his arm back to gain momentum before powerfully driving the stake into Jacob’s back between his ribs. His head snapped up from your thigh with a roar, mouth and neck painted with your blood as he stumbled to his feet, reaching back for the intruding object. With one final blow of his palm to the hilt of the stake, Bradley drove the point of the wood straight through Jacob’s heart. The dying vampire gave a pathetic gasp before his entire being suddenly disintegrated before your very eyes.

Leaving you staring in lethargic shock, Bradley stepped into the tiny washroom that could barely contain his frame and gathered a towel and robe from, returning to press the rough fibres of the towel against the tender flesh. You yelped pathetically, pushing at him weakly as tears pricked your eyes. You did not have the energy to determine if they were tears of shame or tears of sadness for the pile of dust now on the carpet that had very recently been the lieutenant.

“You killed him.” You breathed faintly.

“He was killing you.” Bradley replied sharply, punctuating his statement by pulling the towel tightly around your thigh with the belt of the robe, tying a secure knot in the terrycloth.

You flinched in pain before gulping as he pulled the hem of your dress down over your legs to preserve your modesty. You vision was beginning to narrow as he leaned down to retrieve his stake, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to lift you into his arms, all brisk efficiency. His ability to find you in a hotel with over two hundreds of rooms, in a city full of dozens of hotels, was a puzzle you might not ever be able to solve. Least of all now with your rapidly dimming consciousness.

“Wait!” You channeled the last of bit of effort within your body towards catching his attention. “My stuff…” You gestured listlessly at your phone and notebook, wanting at the very least for this to have not been all for naught.

“You historians are really something else.” He replied gruffly before sweeping your things into your bag, hanging it from his shoulder before scooping you up, his supernatural strength making it a thing of ease as he hurried for the elevator.

“Where we goin’….” Your head lolled forward against his chest, shivering against the radiant heat of his body, barely able to form the words.

“Hospital.” He grunted before everything faded to black.

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Read Part Five

The Night Moves Masterlist

Tag list: @moonyinthestars, @roger-that-cap, @gaminffnerd, @blckgrl-sunflower

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #rooster x you #hangman x you #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #vampire au #vampire hunter au

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