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tarjapearce · 7 months

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El Diablo Wears Prada

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.

Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.

A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❤️✨.

Pt. 2

From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.

Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.

People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.

Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.

You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.

A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it

was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.

And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.

Stay away.

Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.

"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."

Lies, lies and more lies.

A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.

"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mía. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."

You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.

-----

To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.

And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.

You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.

The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.

"Hey, darling!"

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.

"W-What? Where are-"

"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"

Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.

"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)

Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.

"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.

The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"

Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.

"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"

"N-No, Massi-"

He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.

"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves

"Massimo!"

"Go!"

He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.

A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.

The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.

And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.

Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.

"Shh, shhh shh"

His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.

"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)

He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles.

His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.

You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.

"Mr. Bianchi."

The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.

"S-Stop! Please!"

He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.

"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."

"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)

A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.

"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.

The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.

"We got it, Miguel."

Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.

"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."

Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.

"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"

"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.

You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.

" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."

He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.

"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."

Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.

"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrón tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)

His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval.

"Is that true?"

He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.

"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"

"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."

Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.

A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.

"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.

"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"

Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.

You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.

Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.

"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.

"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."

His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.

"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."

Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.

"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."

He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.

"Are you?"

Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.

"I'll have to make you a believer, then."

The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.

" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)

Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.

One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.

"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"

Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.

"Y-Yes!"

"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"

"Don't you dare to touch her!"

Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.

"How long has been since this man touched you?"

His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.

Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.

"M-Months"

You gulped and his touches stopped.

"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."

He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.

"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)

His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.

But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.

A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.

He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.

"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.

You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.

Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.

You groaned.

"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"

You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.

"Cara mía?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.

Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.

Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.

Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!

The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.

Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.

Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.

The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.

You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.

He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl

"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrón."

Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.

Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.

The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.

"Maldita sea preciosa, me estás matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)

His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.

Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.

A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.

"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.

It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.

Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.

His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.

You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.

He'd probably be killed either way.

"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.

Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.

"Cara mía, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.

Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.

Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.

But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.

The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.

"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.

Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.

"Like that, princesa?"

You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.

The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.

He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.

But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.

Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.

"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.

"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.

He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.

"But it feels so good!"

You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.

"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"

You shook your head and he frowned.

"No? Should I stop then?"

A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.

Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.

Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.

He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.

Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.

"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."

Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.

"Put that on. We're taking a ride."

----

His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.

The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.

"Get inside"

"N-No"

Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.

"Why wouldn't you just-"

"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)

His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.

His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.

Miles G. Morales.

The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.

After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.

As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.

The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.

Your eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clean it."

Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.

"No."

His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.

"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."

The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.

Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.

You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

The Devil seemed pleased. For now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #mafia au #t writes✨#mafia miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #Something for kinktober I guess #kinktober

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it. At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend. Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader fanfic #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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lovedazai · 6 days

Text

WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just can’t help himself.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of ‘good girl’, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.c…mdni !!

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i know i’ve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!

dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when he’s stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohama’s underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.

if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazai’s blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you weren’t quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didー fighting.

there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.

he tries to act surprised when you’re both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didn’t have. he didn’t really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafia’s “hideouts”, ensuring they’d show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.

his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, he’d get a peek beneath it.

“are you sure you don’t have somewhere else to be right now?” you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.

“my, my,” he whispers against the curve of your ear. “looks like we’ve been caught.”

“what do we have here? a little girl…” one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. “…and her guard dog?”

of course, he’d never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didn’t stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachー just in case.

his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you don’t let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.

one of the other men comes from the side, but you’re still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazai’s eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.

there’s only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazai’s eyes narrow, and the man’s glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until he’s pinned beneath you.

you’re quick to get up, and when you’re far enough away for dazai’s comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.

the only thing heavier than dazai’s presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where he’s still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, they’re red and glowing, and locked onto you.

he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.

he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesn’t already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.

“dazai,” you try to warn, but it isn’t very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. “we’re still…we’re here. in a dirty warehouse.”

“what’s wrong? there’s no one else around. you made sure of that, didn’t you?” he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. “did you already forget? when their bloodstains haven’t even set into your clothes yet? i didn’t know you could be so cold.”

he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when you’re already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.

“you know what i was thinking while i was watching you?” he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. “‘i wonder how it’d feel for her to choke me like that…to wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeeze’.”

the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazai’s body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.

your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.

“my good girl,” he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. “my sweet, perfect girl.”

“mhm,” you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazai’s firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. “yours.”

you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. it’s so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.

he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but it’s just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.

“the way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,” he whispers. “would you do that to me?”

“no,” you’re breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. “i don’tー i’d never hurt you.”

“but i’d let you,” he rasps. “you could do whatever you want to me.”

he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasn’t close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.

“fuck,” your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. “osamu.”

his grip on you tightens, and he whines; it’s just barely audible, and you would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.

your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you can’t help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.

his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.

everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to “cummingー”, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.

he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.

your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.

“i can’t believe we did that here,” you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.

“you loved it,” he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “you love me〜”

he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.

he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.

“can’t you leave some open?”

your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.

“i’ll call a car to get us,” he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. “i’ll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!”

you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.

“you know,” he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. “you still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.”

he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmー i’m okay. he sees one of the mafia’s black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadー i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ʚ shhh ɞ

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mellowwillowy · 6 months

Text

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 x GN Reader

⤷ warnings — everyone is depressed :), masterpost

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who hates his work so much and despises the fact that he has to stay involved unless he wants his hard work in protecting you crushed down.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who is a ruthless man nonetheless, stepping on anyone's fingers who tries to graze you with his boots, watching them wailing and trying to wriggle out of it.

"Such bug must really be squashed dead huh?"

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who will sometimes take the belongings of his dead enemies for you to collect. Whatever it is that manages to catch his and your interest is as good as yours now.

"You know, how about we make a deal? Give me this thing and I'll let you die in a more peaceful and easy way."

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who hates the idea of seeing even a soul sneering at you. Anyone who makes the slightest bit of rude remarks toward you will be faced with his fist immediately, no matter where they are.

"Say. That. Again. And. I. Will. Make. Sure. You. Can't. Talk. Anymore."

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who is not a talkative man but will always tell you about his day as he strokes your hair, watching you sleep peacefully. He doesn't like telling people about himself but all that is thrown out of the window when it comes to you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who is indeed a loyal man, never indulging himself in the parties where women and men are involved with each other.

"Never seen ya' with anyone wrapped around your arm. Come get a taste of it!"

"If I were you, I'd immediately run along before I make you taste my gun's bullet."

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who is tired of living, had it not been for you, he would have long chosen to kill himself and after you into oblivion. But that would simply mean he is wasting away all the troubles he had gone through just for his current standing.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who can never rest in peace because of you and the organization he's leading. He shouldn't have taken this position, and shouldn't have shot the previous ringleader down after the revolution he led. But he needs power and being that man's right-hand man wasn't enough.

"ELEANOR! IS THIS HOW A DOG SUPPOSED TO REPAY HIS MASTER'S KINDNESS?!"

"... Hey, unfortunately enough... I have never even once considered you to be my 'Master'. I'll let you go with your pride still intact, see you again."

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who likes to tend the garden in place for your bedridden state. You love flowers and it truly would be a shame if the flowers have to wilt because no one takes care of it. Well... never mind that he'll just ask the gardener to tend it again later when he's absent.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who watches how the house that was once white slowly darkens into pitch black, just like how he is dragged deeper into the underground world. Reality and Fantasy, these are truly a shackle of curse to him.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who likes to sit in front of the grandfather's clock, sipping his share of tea while flipping through the album photo of you two. All was great until you decided to commit something foolish that dragged him into the underworld.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who likes to stroke your hair absentmindedly, watching you sleep while your chest heaves up and down. Always sleeping and never awake. He enjoys humming the lullaby that you have always been fond of, hoping that it'll somehow reach your ears.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who likes to play the Russian roulette with himself, will the dice finally choose to take him? Nonetheless, the dice is kind enough to make him survive for another day to take care of you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who can not sleep in peace as he cradles your limp body, worries endowed in him as the thought of his enemies slipping into his manor and taking you away from him. They know a better way to kill him after all, and that is by taking you hostage rather than torturing him to death.

𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 who will always make sure that you are breathing, his ear placed on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. The idea of your life slipping away from your comatose body terrifies him.

"... Good night." Eleanor places a kiss on your forehead before hugging your body, the two of you hiding beneath the cover of a blanket.

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#Eleanor the Finale #LIfE Project #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader

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piss-pumpkin · 3 months

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Swords and Skeletons (Percy Jackson x reader)

Child of Hades Reader, ~3.7k words, set ambiguously after Nico turns emo, and before HoO ig

People said Camp Half Blood would be different. They called it a place where demigods could be free, safe, make friends, be normal for a change, and train to survive in the real world. A few of those were true, you found. There was training, arenas with swords, ranges with bows, and all that. But not once after arriving were you ever made to feel normal. Apparently, children of Hades were treated differently.

From the moment the three headed dog of the underworld appeared above your head, the others looked at you less like a comrade, peer, or even friend, and more like an omen. You raise the dead one time at camp and people fall into hysterics. If they only knew the shit you were doing before camp.

You went to the beach, all the canoes were full, all spoken for, no room for you. You grimaced as you walked away. Sure, that may as well happen. The summer had just started and you already claimed your status as an outsiders

When you walked by the strawberry fields, the gardeners shot you odd looks, the bravest of which were as bold as to say you’d probably end up killing the plants. Like they didn’t know your dad was married to one of the plant and spring goddesses. Sure, why not?

Your first day claimed at Camp Half Blood was proving less than enjoyable. Just yesterday, with some Hermes kid giving you a tour, you were able to learn a few names, have a little fun. Now? Left alone to figure things out.

A satyr showed you to your cabin, its dark and oppressive structure shrinking you down. The satyr was quick to leave the moment your hand found the door handle. Typical. You rolled your eyes as you pushed it open.

It was much bigger than it needed to be, and remarkably dark. The few windows were covered with black curtains, and the overhead light shone dimly, as did the candles that were spread around.

According the Chiron, you had one sibling, a little brother who occasionally came to camp. You curiously approached the one bunk that was in use. Your brother seemed the neat type, the bed was made, with clean white sheets, black blanket, and a single pillow. The dresser beside it was filled with black clothes, even a black version of the standard camp half blood shirt. This guy really committed to the bit.

The only trace of personality was found in a few Polaroid photos sticking out from between the mattress and the bed frame. You couldn’t help pick one up to look at it. It was a very old black and white photo of a little boy and a girl. They looked like siblings. You put back the photo.

You barely noticed the room was still dark. Sighing, you made your way to a window to shine a little sunlight in.

You picked a top bunk on the other side of the room, and set your bag down. Completely moved in. You really needed more stuff.

When dinner came, you quickly found out that you had to sit alone now. Great. No longer with acquaintances you could hold a pleasant conversation with from the Hermes cabin, who seemed to be getting along just fine without you. Your brow furrowed as you sat down.

You picked at food. It was all good, the Camp Half Blood magic, and all, but your appetite was nowhere to be found. You halfway glared at the other tables, full of siblings, and even worse, the people who leaned back to laugh with friends at other tables. Maybe there was a good reason your brother didn’t come around often.

There was one guy though, that even in your soured mood, didn’t piss you off. Another person alone at their table. You watched him sceptically as as ate his… blue food, and texted with one hand. They said demigods couldn’t use phones? A bunch of people came by to talk to him as they were leaving the pavilion. Guess he’s popular.

He glanced up, eyes landing on you, probably sending your gaze fixed on him. Fuck. You were totally staring. You blinked, and shifted your gaze to the table in front of you, and hoped he didn’t notice, or pay much mind. You hastily finished, discarding your plate and retreating to your cabin.

Yikes.

…

As it turned out, you were not slick. The next day, when you were avoiding camp activities and the people who now awkwardly shuffled away from you when you tried to approach, you heard a knock on the door.

It was that guy. Of course it was. Who else would it be? Not your satyr, or any of the people from the Hermes cabin who were fine talking to you two days ago, not them. It was the guy who caught you staring at him. And you were here answering the door in your pyjamas.

”Hey,” he said happily, waving. “I’m Percy.”

You hesitated. “Uh,” you started, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Hi Percy, I’m Y/n.”

He smiled widely, and gestured behind him. “Do you have anything going on right now? Cuz I’ve been doing some swinging in the arena, I could always show you some stuff if you’re still new to it.”

He seemed rather friendly. You were hesitant to buy it. “Uh, I got a little lesson the other day from… some Hermes kid,” you ambled, crossing your arms.

He shrugged, “Suit yourself,” he said. “But feel free to stop by,” he started to turn away, but apparently had something left to say, and shit you one more smile. “I saw you had to sit alone yesterday,” he said. “I know it can be kinda hard to be a new camper and big three kid, especially Hades, so like…” he pursed his lips. “Don’t be a stranger, I guess.”

And then he was off, leaving you a little surprised. He was a big three kid too? You stood in the doorway watching him leave for a little longer than you meant too. You slowly stepped back inside. He didn’t seem put off by your staring, at least. But he noticed you were all alone with no friends. You couldn’t tell which outcome would be more embarrassing.

You looked it a window, and saw a few kids walking down the path. They seemed close, laughing together and telling jokes you couldn’t hear. Ugh. Maybe you did need to talk to people. Rotting in your cabin, lamenting, wasn’t getting you anywhere fun.

Groaning, you rooted around in your bag, and then the closet. There were spare black shirts. You snickered grabbing one off the hook and finally changing out of your pyjamas.

The sun was entirely too bright. You squinted as you made your way down the steps, using your hand to cover the light. Where did he say? The sword… arena? You found the first directional sign on the way, and followed it to a fairly large area, it’s ground solid, packed, and slightly dusty. Around it were mock colosseum stands, for watching the battles, you supposed. At the far side, was the guy, Percy, you now knew, swinging a sword viciously against a dummy. He seemed to be alone. A little odd considering his apparent popularity.

Sighing, half regretting coming out, you approached. It took him a moment to notice, but he grinned at you when he did. “Oh my gods, you actually came,” he said, surprised.

You did your best to put on a friendly smile, unsure why that was a difficult task. He’s probably the only one here who didn’t avoid you like the plague. “Uh, yeah,” you laughed nervously. “You said something about sword fighting?”

He nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Yes,” he declared. “Let’s get you a weapon, I’ll give you the run down.”

You followed him towards a few weapons racks. “Well, I had a brief lesson the other day when I first arrived,” you said mindlessly, unsure why you kept resisting. You stood in front of the weapon rack. “Wait, is that a shotgun?”

Percy stifled a laugh, “yes, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said, going on to explain all the reasons why the various guns weren’t good tools. Something about celestial bronze, ammo, and other complaints. You nodded along idly, doing your best to listen. “So, I’d just go with one of the more… classic, weapons,” he finished.

You eyed them. Sword, dagger, mace, mallet, sickle, scythe, entirely too many options, leaving you paralyzed.

“If you go with the sword, I can probably show you some cool tricks,” Percy chimed in.

That was good enough for you. You took a bronze sword by the hilt, and raised it. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to just fight using my powers?”

”I mean, yeah,” he said, “if that’s something you can do.”

”Yeah,” You said. “I did that that on the day I was claimed.”

”On purpose?” He asked, brow raised.

You suppressed a laugh, covering your mouth with the non sword hand. “Yeah?” You said, like it was obvious. “Is that something people do by accident?”

Percy started towards the centre of the arena, and you followed as he explained, “A lot of demigods aren’t great at controlling their powers at first.”

You stood in front of him, mirroring his sword stance awkwardly, “well, it wasn’t my first time… I guess I’ve always kind of known I was a Hades kid, even before I knew what that meant.”

Percy pocketed his… pen sword, and came closer to you, moving your arms, gently kicking your leg to signal you to move. He adjusted the way you held your sword, thumb tucked around the handle. “If you hold it like this, you’ll have a better grip, and with wider legs, your more stable,” he said, pulling away again, and assuming the same stance. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled with a sigh once he was gone.

“If you can use your powers,” he said, wide grin. “Then don’t hold back, that’s what they’re for.”

“Uh, okay,” you stuttered, gripping the sword with white knuckles. “You’re not worried?”

He chuckled, “I mean, a little bit, but no more then I am when I fight Annabeth.” You nodded, and he smiled, and you pursed your lips, because it was a little charming. “Okay,” he started. “How much did they teach you before?”

”Little bit? Stances, I think. And… I know how to swing it,” you said dumbly, now realizing you were probably matched against a pro.

He didn’t judge though, instead moving beside you, and mimicked you exactly. He stepped forward with his front foot, and urged you to do the same. You followed his movement, doing your best to copy him, following his hops, slides, jabs, and slices.

A few half bloods walked by the path as you practised, a few waved at Percy, a couple of them even smiling at you. Proximity to somebody likeable, you supposed. A couple girls and one boy glared at you though, stopping to stare with crossed arms when Percy got close, or laughed at something you said. He didn’t seem to notice, luckily.

“Okay,” Percy said after a while. “You’ve got the moves now, all the basics.”

”I got the basics,” you echoed, nodding along. You were already a little sweaty, the sun beating overhead and your black shirt wasn’t helping.

“So do you want to try light sparring?” He asked.

“Sure,” you asserted. Readying your blade much more confidently than you did before. “Yes,” you nodded again, mentally preparing.

He grinned, “Alright, don’t go easy on me.”

And you didn’t. But you could tell he was going easy on you. You slashed, he blocked, you stabbed, he dodged, you lunged, he parried. Shit, this guy was pretty good.

You thought back to what he said about powers. Time to get a little fun with it. What did you have under control? Really just summoning the dead, the rest you’d only done by accident, like Percy asked before.

Percy took advantage of your thinking to quickly slide forward and swing at your side, a blow you were barely able to block, your own blade wobbling as you barely redirected the attack.

You pivoted back, and jabbed your sword into the ground, opening a vein to the underworld… or something. You weren’t exactly sure how it all worked.

You had to duck and roll as Percy slashed forward while your sword was down. It appeared he was working your training wheels off.

A few skeletons popped their heads out of the hole and grumbled, “Got anything good?”

Fuck. Last time you had food to offer them. “Not now,” you said, dashing to your feet away from Percy and pulling your sword from the packed dirt. “But after this I can get you anything you want!”

Percy laughed, possibly at your desperation, and started to lunge again as the skeletons deliberated and discussed whether they’d help you.

“Oh my gods!” You shouted, blocking a strike and trying to throw one of your own. Percy seemed to dodge it with all the ease in the world. “Get your pussy asses out here and help me, you useless fucks, there’s good shit in it for you!”

They grumbled, but climbed out of the vein. Five skeletons, you counted as you hopped out of the way of Percy’s sword. “Okay!” You yelled. They were just standing there like assholes. “Fight him!”

The skeletons complied, but not before the apparent ring leader made a snide comment about your tone, claiming you had anger issues.

But the skeletons did fight for you, circling Percy and readying their firsts. They didn’t have weapons, and before you could yell at them to go to the rack, they were already attacking, flailing at Percy wildly.

You were allotted a moment to catch your breath as Percy dealt with it. Even without weapons, they were doing an alright job, but Percy was quick to react and form a new strategy. He ducked out of their circle and beheaded one of them. The skeleton groaned out a complaint as the skull rolled towards you.

You pursed your lips. Percy used every opportunity you gave him to strike, even if it was cheap. Your turn. You crept behind him as he dealt with your small army, and raised your sword.

But fuck, was Percy reactive. He turned on a dime and swept your leg, sending you tumbling to the ground, knocking the wind out of you with an oomf. Groaning, you rolled over on your side and wheezed out what was left of your breath, and did your best to suck in another.

”Oh, shit, Y/n, are you alright?” He asked quickly, kneeling down beside you and discarding his weapon.

Before you could nod, the skeletons whacked him out of the way. Oh right. Percy was sent tumbling to the ground, completely unready for the attack.

He scrambled to grab his sword again, but with a little strength, you waved off your undead defenders. “It’s cool guys,” you wheezed, still in the ground.

They looked at each other dumbly. “Can we have our food now?”

You glared and coughed. “Not now, go back in the hole, I’ll get you later,” you spat.

They had a few complaints, but eventually crawled back in the hole, as requested. And Percy was right back at your side, sword gone, water bottle in hand and offering it to you. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, offering you a hand. You took it, and he pulled you up to a sit. “I got a little carried away,” he admitted, handing you the bottle.

He looked at you with concern in his eyes, and you coughed once more. Hopefully the last time. “I’m good,” you managed, shooting him a smile. Or at least trying to.

”Do you think you need to go to the infirmary?” He asked.

You shook your head. Your breath was already coming back, and other than that all you had were a few bruises. “It’s fine, really,” you said.

He looked like he doubted you, but he said nothing, instead pressing his lips together, and slumping down to fully sit beside you. “I started to forget this was your first time fighting.”

You laughed, and it only hurt a little bit, “That means I must be pretty good, right?” You screwed open the cap of your water bottle, and took a drink. One gulp and you were suddenly aware of the dryness in your throat, and had to down half of it to quench yourself.

Percy smiled, a water bottle of his own in his hand. “Hey, you’re not bad for a newbie,” he laughed. “Sorry again. I can let you beat me to make up for it, if you want.”

You choked out a laugh, “You won’t have to let me next time, alright?”

He laughed. ”I’ll hold you to that,” he smiled, taking a swig of his water and wiping away sweat. “You really did hold your own.”

You nodded, unable to form words for a moment. You gasped for breath after choking a gulp of water. “Thank,” you heaved. “For helping. Couldn’t have survived more then a minute without you.”

He smiled softly, “it’s no problem.”

”You’re the only one to even try.” The bitterness from earlier was creeping back. Percy was a friend, now, you were certain. The only one.

He pursed his lips, and looked at the ground. “Yeah…” he started. He looked like he had more to say, but seemed to trail off.

“I appreciate the effort,” you said, lightly kicking the hilt of your sword.

He nodded lamely, “It’s no problem, really.” He sighed, and looked around at the empty arena, and the trees and fields surrounding it. “I have some friends that’ll get to camp soon for summer, they’re school and… stuff… ends a week after mine,” he said, looking straight ahead. “They’re cool, you’ll get along. Not everyone is scared of a Hades kid.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “Uh, that’s good to hear,” you managed. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed by… everyone.”

He looked over at you, and you fought the urge to look away, like he caught you staring again. “They’ll come around when they realize you’re cool,” he assured. Then you had to look away, because your lips were being tugged up in an embarrassingly large smile.

“I hope so,” you said timidly, smiling at your shoes.

Percy laughed, “People were weird around me, too, when I first came to camp,” he admitted, fidgeting with his pen. He twisted and spun it through his fingers, only occasionally dropping it. “Clarisse wanted to kill me, Annabeth was stalking me, a bunch of people were kinda scared of me? And I always had to sit alone at dinner.” He said, faint smile on his lips, like reminiscing. “It was a lot, I get what you’re going though… kind of.”

You nodded along with his story. “And… you managed to make friends with them anyway?”

Percy laughed, “Well with Clarisse I’d say it’s still up in the air, but I guess we’re more friends then we are enemies nowadays.”

You smiled, staring at your shoes. “Well, that’s good,” you smiled softly.

“The same thing will happen to you, done worry,” he said, lightly punching your shoulder. You snickered at his touch, punching him right back.

“If you say so,” you giggled. Your black shirt was damp with sweat, and stuck to your back. “I’ll try my best.”

He shook his head, “you won’t have to, they’ll like you as is.”

You heart fluttered a moment. You were really starting to get why people glared at you earlier, for spending so much time alone with this guy. You smiled, doing your best to not feel awkward. “Thanks, Percy.”

He smiled, and stood up, dusting himself off and offering you a hand. Once again, you took it, and this time noticed his callouses, probably from years of this exact type of training. He had a strong grip. “Let’s say we’re done sword practice for today, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, picking up your blade and bringing it back where you found it.

You walked together to the dining pavilion. You had actually worked up an appetite today. The place you felt so alone last night, you now approached with a friend, and the promise of a friend group. And you got a few more sceptical looks from other campers, but that all melted away when Percy would wave or snap a finger gun at them.

And you realized your previous judgement was wrong. Camp Half Blood might not be so bad, and maybe you could feel okay. Despite the skeletons, this might have been the most normal day in a while. Maybe Camp Half Blood would be different. Not because of the place, the god overseeing it, or any of that. But because Percy was different. Apparently his friends to.

You broke off from him to find your table and get a plate, and this time, didn’t feel too bad about staring at him. You realized that table was the Poseidon table. Definitely one of the big three gods. He caught you staring again, and this time he waved, and you glanced around.

You got up, plate in hand and walked over. “Do we like, half to sit at our table, or…?” you asked, tilting your head side to side. You couldn’t help look at his food, all of which was blue.

He looked around, eyes wide, “Well it’s against the rules to sit at another one…” he said, looking at the other tables, many full. “But, like,” he said, “it’s not a rule I haven’t broken before.”

You smiled, sitting across from him, “good enough for me,” you shrugged. You got a few weird looks. Just a couple. But dinner was always better with a friend. This summer was looking to be a good one.

I actually got this one done in like a single day,,, that’s not usual for me. *mwah*

#x reader #my writing #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo x reader #percy pjo #percy jackson x you

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

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John Wick x You │Tarasov's Daughter

You are the eldest daughter of Viggo Tarasov. You’re smart enough to take over the family business, but you’ve always been overlooked because you’re a girl (their loss). But John Wick sees you. In fact he saw a lot of you, once, when he’d been your bodyguard for a brief time during a turf war back in the day. You’re not sure who seduced who really, but you’ve never forgotten the feeling of his big hands digging into your hips or his teeth in your shoulder while he fucked you against the marble top of your bathroom sink, watching you go to pieces for him in the mirror. Maybe he was even your first! You seethed with jealousy when you heard he left the Underworld to get married to a nice normal American lady and settle down in domestic bliss. You were actually allowed to DO that? No one in this life ever really got out. You can’t help but think that you could have made him just as happy as some boring middle-aged photographer. Helen. What a stupid name. So when the shit hits the fan after your dumbass brother Iosef disrespects John Wick (and kills his dog, what the actual fuck?) you wonder if John will come after you.

Pick your poison: Canon!John Wick │ Dark!John Wick │ Yandere!John Wick

18+, all the warnings, dead dove do not eat! Predator kink, size kink, kidnapping, dub-con, brat taming, dark!john, mean!John, yandere!John , jesus fucking crist tumblr u have broken me…🙃

Canon!John Wick

John doesn’t hurt women unless they are really REALLY giving him no choice (Looking at you, Perkins!). But you are the means to his end, so he doesn’t hesitate to take you for bait for Iosef and your father’s men. He is raw and back in full predator mode after taking a hiatus for five years. Of COURSE you piss him off, and when you try to escape he snaps. He still calls you moya milaya printcessa (my sweet princess)tho while he fucks you against the wall with his hand on your throat. When the idiots your father employs do finally come for you John kills them all, and your brother, and your uncle after taking back his car. He lets you go, and a part of you forever wishes that he’d kept you…

Dark!John Wick

You were always such a fucking brat back when he had to watch over you, and finally he can get his revenge. When you mouth off he undoes his tie and uses it to gag you, something he’s always wanted to do, and as you watch him whip off his belt with such calculated flourish you are practically sliding off your chair. He bends you over his knee, the way someone should have a long time ago, and he taunts you when he finds you’re soaking with slick in between whipping you. Is it just you, or is he not hitting you half as hard as he could tho? You don’t know and you don’t care, you’re 98 percent sure you’re not getting out of this alive, so you at least want to die having had his magnificent manhood inside you one last time. You are delirious by the time he soothes the welts on your ass with the light touch of his fingers. “Are you going to be my good little girl now?” he demands as he tosses you on the bed like you’re just a ragdoll. Like he wants to hear your reply, he removes his tie from your mouth.

“If you fill me up with that big beautiful cock of yours.”

He laughs at you, and you get the feeling he’s delighted by your sass, even in this cruel mood. “You don’t get to make the demands anymore, milaya.” He slaps your thighs apart and goes down on you, licking you relentlessly, bringing you to the edge again and again but never letting you cum.

“Please, please, please,” you beg and tears stream down your face as finally you watch him undo his pants. He has utterly broken you.

“You always were such fucking whiner,” he hisses, pulling your hair hard as he plunges himself inside your swollen cunt. You hate him for how good it feels as he fills every last inch and corner of you, and if you ever get your hands free you’re so going to make him pay for this.

Yandere!John Wick

John always carried a torch for you, but you were so off limits. The boss’s daughter. A sure death sentence, but it almost would have been worth it. He’d thought about you constantly for a good long while, your beauty and your body was burned into his brain, but then he met Helen, and that fire smoldered to red hot coals he kept in the back room of his twisted black heart. But when Iosef starts shit there is absolutely nothing to stop him from taking what he’s always wanted. He’ll make you his perfect little pet, one last bit of revenge against the Tarasovs for disrespecting him after all he’d done for them.

When you see him materialize from the shadows in the mirror behind you, you try to go for the gun you keep in the top drawer of your vanity. You’re half certain he’ll kill you for it, but you’re y/n Viggovna Fucking Tarasov, and you will not fucking beg like your little bitch of a brother undoubtedly did. You’re not surprised when he manages to disarm you in the blink of an eye. You wait for the blade in your throat or the gunshot in your gut but he just holds you in those inexorably strong arms, looking down at you with those burning dark eyes. He’s so tall, he’s so much bigger than you and that always turned you on.

“You’re mine now, printcessa.”

You know you’ve always been his but you hate being helpless. He kisses you hard, unforgivingly, possessively, and you try to bite him but he knocks you out with a headbutt. Ouch!

You wake up in a luxuriously appointed room that you just know in your gut is now your new prison. Wick is no fool. There are digital locks on the doors. There are windows that you know will be unbreakable. Your hands are bound above your head, and though you try to worm free it’s impossible. After a while John enters, straddling you on the bed. Even though your legs are free his weight pins you down, you are trapped, and you’re embarrassingly certain he can feel the heat that’s pooling between your legs for it. His face is covered in cuts, his knuckles are torn. He’s been through Hell, but he came out the other side, the way you begrudgingly knew he would. “Your family’s dead,” he tells you. “No one’s coming for you.” He doesn’t really seem to take any joy in it, his handsome face stoic as stone. “You belong to me now, and I hope your father rolls over in his grave every time I defile you.”

You try not to enjoy it while he rails you into the soft mattress, or when he touches you while he does it, his long fingers so exacting. He is a master of manipulating the human body, for pain or for pleasure. You think he makes you cum out of ownership over anything remotely tender, but he makes you see God so often it almost feels like he cares about you. He becomes your dark deity, the altar you worship on, even if just in the deepest depths of your heart. You still have some pride.

You still try to fight and still try to run, even though he punishes you every time. Maybe you’re made bold by the fact that he hasn’t killed you, where he killed everyone else. They were kind of assholes though. John kept you, after all, and you can’t fault his taste. You think he secretly loves the chase, maybe even admires you for fighting him when there really is no hope. He loves reminding you who is in charge though too, and on nights when he’s in a particular mood you know you won’t be able to sit without feeling it for a week.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fic #john wick x you fic #keanu reeves #yandere john wick #dark!john wick #john wick imagine #john wick imagines

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

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I need a Hades!Eddie and Persephone!Steve au.

Because Steve is a bitch who would absolutely become the queen of the underworld. And Eddie is a little dark loner who hangs out with his dog and guilds souls and would absolutely melt seeing Steve when he goes topside sometime.

Steve is just wandering a forest humming to himself, fingers moving gently over the trees he passes, looking like sunshine. A crown of flowers glimmering on his head, flowers growing behind him as he walks, his robes almost glowing in the shadows of the trees, vines and blooms seem to swirl around his robes.

And Eddie probably runs into a tree. Or is on some cliff and watching Steve and just wanders a step too far cuz he's mesmerized. and he just fucking falls and all Steve hears is an "aw shit!" And then a crash.

So he runs over and finds this mess of a guy in a tangle of limbs with a cut on his head, probably tangled in a shrub, trying to tug his arm and his black flowing robe out of the brambles and he's just yanking on it with reckless abandoned muttering to himself like "son of a- are you kidding me with this?"

And Steve just watches him, equally enraptured at this mess of a man as he was by Steve.

And then he notices Steve standing in the shadow of the trees and flails backwards, hits his ass on the rocks as he falls again. Steve rushes over, his hands out like he'd tried to catch him and Eddie just looks up at him, breathless and is like "uum... hi?"

And Steve tucks his hair behind his ear and he fucking blushes, bites his lip as he looks down at Eddie, his arm wrapping around himself as the one that was tucking his hair gives Eddie a shy little wave and he's like "hi."

And Eddie gets this dopey smile on his face, because even Steve's voice is beautiful and he just sighs up at him and says "hi" again.

Steve's answering laughter rings through the trees like the most beautiful music Eddie's ever heard.

#fates endless inkwell #fei #steddie #steddie au #steddie greek mythology au #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie blurb #my writing #mine #my fic

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btslil-bbyboy · 2 months

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Soul Contract

Scenario: How will the Hazbin Hotel react to meeting a reader who has a subservient called Sebastian Michaelis

Male reader insert!

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, and Alastor

*Warning: Cursing, suggestive language

Part 1

When you were alive, you made a deal with a demon. A demon so powerful that he can shift through realms of Human and Hell. He was your servant, your dog who followed orders that brought great satisfaction.

Until it was time to eat your soul. Unfortunately for Sebastian, it got interrupted by Angels who rebuked him back down to Hell. What they didn't account for is that the contract between you two was different, sending you down with him.

In Hell, Sebastian was furious as he quickly found out that now since you're both in the underworld, he can't eat your soul.

The contract you made with him put him in a low level of power underneath you. Meaning, you have a bigger collar around his neck.

It's hilarious really. You laugh at his face, arrogance and pride falling upon yourself. You quickly find out that Sebastian was a Overlord. 'Was' as that title went to you automatically. It's quite interesting to see the politics of the underworld but you have no use in it. You're motive now is to get into Heaven and kill those naive Angels who interrupted You're sweet death of white.

So, when you hear about a hotel that's about rehabilitating sinners, you knew this was your chance. If sinners can go up to heaven, then by all means you can get up there, kill those that wronged you, go back to the Human realm to end this suffering.

This is what got Sebastian to make that contract with you. He craved your pathetic twisted soul. Wanted to devour it whole. And you... you loved that attention.

Charlie

When the knock of the front door sounds out through the hotel, Charlie looks at it in surprise before opening it right up. Seeing who's there, a big smile breaks her face at the male standing perfectly straight behind you.

His butler outfit pressed and clean as he bows to her. "Your highness, it's a great pleasure to see you once again." Sebastian smiles at her, eyes closed as he puts his hand on his chest.

A sound of a throat clearing, Sebastian straightens up immediately.

"Pardon me. Let me introduce you to my young master, Overlord (M/n). Young master, this is the princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar."

Charlie finally sets her eyes at you. So this is the person that has stole the attention of the demon. She remembers her mother looking distraught when she found out about Sebastian, making a deal with a human once more. She remembers her mother waiting, for a report about the human realm from him but he hasn't returned yet.

Years go by, Charlie watches her mother hiss out his name in disdain. She never knew why but she knows that Sebastian was a big deal to her. And to herself also, seeing him a lot when she was younger.

"Hi! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, please come in. It's great to see you again. Sebastian!"

Charlie was interested in you, seeing as how Sebastian followed your orders without falt, except when he will tease you a little.

She loved how you wanted to help out the hotel (not knowing of your true attentions)

She will listen closely as you teach her about the importance of keeping a hotel alive as you have explained you had a business running up when you were human.

She would also drag you in the exercise of trust and the such, making Sebastian cover his chuckles behind his gloved hand.

Vaggie

"Vaggie! Come here please!" Vaggie lets a small smile when she hears her girlfriend call out to her. She turns the corner to be met with two unfamiliar male faces. Her smile quickly gets wiped off as her eyes narrow down at the newcomers.

"Vaggie, meet Sebastian! Remember when I told you about him. Oh, and this is (M/n). Guys, this is my girlfriend Vaggie."

Vaggie's eyes widen as the name Sebastian rings around her head. This is the guy that baby sat her girlfriend? And (M/n)? She looks at him, an unsettling feeling settling in her stomach when he gestures for them to sit down like he was the host of the hotel and ordering Sebastian to bring them tea.

She watches as Sebastian bows to him before walking off. Instantly she knew that you two have made a deal. On what is the big question.

How did you manage to make Sebastian a servant?

She doesn't let her gaurd down when you're around. Unlike Alastor who explained that he was only here helping out for the entertainment, you were vague.

Chuckling or dismissing the questions before Sebastian stands by his side with dead eyes.

But she has to admit, she was glad for your help with the hotel. Managing a lot of the paperwork and advertising it.

And there are moments where she shivers when Sebastian looks at her in disgust at the corner of her eyes before replacing it with a fake smile.

Angel

When he entered the Hotel, he didn't expect to be met with two very attractive men. He was exhausted from work but the sight of them has him perking up.

"Well, hello boys~ I see you didn't start the party without me." Angel struts to them, sitting down beside you.

You chuckle before turning your attention to the sinner. How bold of him to just sit down next to you like that.

"You must be the patron, Angel Dust." You point out, not missing the worry furrow of Vaggie.

Of course, you already know who Angel Dust is, not by watching porn but from sending out Sebastian for information. You wanted to make sure that you know who your dealing with.

"The one and only. You watch some of my stuff because I can tell you, I can make it into reality. I can take both of ya." Angel seductively leans forward, taking a glance at the butler.

"Okay~, Angel. How about we... put a pen on that. (M/n) here is offering us help on gaining more patrons in the hotel." Charlie informs, stopping Angels attempt on bedding the two.

Angel likes you both a lot as eye candy. He likes to see you blush slightly before Sebastian steps with a backhand insult.

Also, who the hell was Grell?

As much as he flirts with you both, he becomes warry of you on how you command Sebastian around.

It's not how Valentino treats him but more of you saying an impossible command to the demon who surprisingly succeeds in accomplishment. But still.

All in all, Angel doesn't go near Sebastian unless you're around. He doesn't like how Sebastian pops out of no where.

Husk

He glares at the demon butler. His presence makes his hair stand up as he gracefully enters the kitchen.

"Ah, apologies for intruding. I'm just here to make some tea." Is all the stranger says as he starts to make tea like it was his own house.

"Who the hell are ya?" Husk hisses, walking out behind the male with the butler outfit on. He gets introduced to you two. His glare turns curious as he watches Sebastian serve everyone tea.

What made him stare is how the demon steps back, standing tall, not next to you but a little bit behind you, ready to do whatever you commanded. He stares for a while before going behind the safety of the bar's counter.

"Ah, you have a good selection of poison but I do prefer wine." You comment, looking behind him at the wide variety.

"As long as I get shit faced." Husk replies with a shrug.

He doesn't like you or Sebastian one bit.

It kind of reminds him of his own deal with Alastor but the dynamic between you is more, intense.

He sees you. The real you. The arrogant, calculated, sadistic piece of shit you are when you take a seat at his bar, taking light sips of wine.

Pressing on his own deal with Alastor, a mocking tone to your voice before shifting to a cheerful laugh like it was all a joke.

Then there was Sebastian. That bastard is all up in his business. Pointing out his lack of exertion. Sometimes even pushing him off to the side when guests arrive and he serves them himself.

Niffty

"Die!" Niffty cries out, pouncing on the roach that made it's way to the main area.

"Ah, this is Niffty, I presume." She looks up to see you watching her in interest.

She stares back, eye wide as she takes you and Sebastian in.

You don't look like a bad boy. What a bummer. But still, they are men. Great looking men, she might add.

"Yes! Please call me that." She giggles out, a little bit too long as she rubs her hands together.

She gets introduced to you both, nodding along to words that went in one ear and out the other as she stares.

And stares.

Running off after a few minutes when a roach passes by.

She thinks you're both attractive, but not too much because you're not bad boys.

Both of you so proper with your charming smiles.

She likes when you ask her about these pesty roaches. She loves dearly when you pay attention. Even if you don't laugh at the funny parts, you still nod along.

Sad when she isn't allowed to enter your room to clean.

Stupid Sebastian.

And don't get her started on Sebastian. She can talk to him for hours if he lets her.

But he redirects her.

Too bad, he seems to really know how to properly destroy Jackson the stain.

Alastor

"Oh? And who might you two be?" Alastor questions as he examines the two.

Once Charlie explained who you are and why you're here, he grips his cane a little harder, smile shrinking slightly in a grimace.

Sebastian has worked for Lilith?

You're the Overlord that Rosie has gossiped over about not attending to not even one of the Overlord meetings since you got here?

This won't work.

"Hmm, it seems like your help isn't required. Thank you for dropping by though!"

Charlie waves her hands around, telling you that he was just joking. As if.

If he was joking, one would know by the soundtrack of recorded laughter. No laughing is heard right now.

"Seeing as you only have one patron, I figured you don't know what your doing." You looked at him right in the eyes while saying that.

His eye twitches at the sheer audacity.

"Young master, please refrain from pointing out his incompetence. It's quite rude for an Overlord to say to another."

His teeth grinds together at Sebastian words. His calm, light tone trying to 'disguise' the insult.

He hates you.

Hates how you steal Charlie’s attention, running the hotel, and how you speak to him. Like he's just a bug under your shoe.

But he is also warry.

Warry about your hold of the leash of Sebastian Michaelis. The one that had contact with Lilith over the past years.

He, himself wasn't even in hell yet.

How cruel, really. Another reminder of his own leash to that bitch is here in front of him.

Yet he can't help but chuckle.

Watching in fascination how Sebastian would bark if you told him too.

He can feel the rage exuding out of the butler everytime when your mocking expression turns to him and there is nothing the powerful demon can do.

If only he can make a deal for your soul to gain Sebastian's own.

#male reader #x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin niffty #hazbin angel dust #sebastian michaelis #black butler x male reader

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vase-of-lilies · 8 months

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❀ Pairing: Demon!Wanda Maximoff x Angel!Reader (F) (Mostly nicknamed Angel)(And some Wanda x Bucky)

❀ Non-con, dubcon, semi-major character death, captivity, heaven and hell (religious god?), mentions of kidnapping and past rape, spreader bar, use of a strap, dismembering of a person, blood, gore, and a fluffy bath:) (If there is any more, PLEASE let me know!!)

❀ Word Count: 10.4k Words (My longest fic yet!!)

❀ Disclaimer: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to those who made the pictures in the banner as well. In the story, it says “your natural skin color.” This is meant for everyone and anyone who reads this story.

❀ Authors Note: This is my entry for @lunarbuck’s Soulmate AU writing challenge! Congratulations on your follower milestone! My prompt was “You can feel what your soulmate is feeling (and vice versa).” I hope you enjoy it! Y'all, I finished AND posted this with 3% battery on my laptop. Please give it your love 😭

It was a homicide. A planned murder against a poor young woman, who had her whole life ahead of her. A life that you were supposed to watch over her as her guardian angel. Your savior had assigned you to this woman just moments ago, settling your sacred halo hovering just above your head. You had been waiting your whole life for this moment but once you met the crime scene it felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest.

Your body drops to the floor, your halo slowly dying of its light. The pure white dress adorned your body faded to a light gray, and your soft feathered wings drooped like a dog's ears. You stare at the body of your departed human as the investigators take her away, weeping as they do so. A chill washes over your body, and the world around you seems to dim in its color.

Sparkling silver tears roll down your cheeks, characteristic angels were blessed with. With one drop they could heal any broken or ill body, and give power to its consumer. Everything except the dead, and you were much too late to the scene to even help your protected person.

The world underneath you, hell, there was something brewing in the mind of the queen; Wanda. In different realms, she felt the pain that you did when you saw her lying lifeless on the ground, blood soaking through the white sheet covering her. That wasn’t all. She could feel everything. She could feel the sensation of your tears falling down your cheeks, the racing of your heart, the pounding of your head. She even felt the tug of your halo disconnecting from your aura.

So, Wanda decides to pay you a visit, and possibly help you find a better way to use your purity. A portal opens from the ground a small distance from you and Wanda extends her wings, floating just behind you. The purest energy surrounds you, pushing away any bad spirits. But this field is falling fast.

Wanda approaches your whimpering body, “Hey, Angel.” She says, kneeling down next to you. You jump at her presence, quickly wiping away your tears with the backs of your hands.

“Hm? Oh..” You don’t answer her, as all you can do is stare at your halo sitting in your lap.

She sighs and gently takes your hands, the faded ring of light falling to the ground. “Come with me,” She says to you, pulling you up from your kneeling position. You don’t question who is helping you, only leaning into their arms with a whimper.

“Sh-she left me,” You whisper.

“I know, its ok. I’ll take care of you now,” She says as she pulls you with her, your mind in a haze as you walk with her. You try your hardest to hold back your tears knowing anyone who sees them will take them and leave you for the undead to tear you apart limb from limb.

Both you and Wanda descend through the portal to the underworld, her arm firmly around your body as you follow. She leads you through the halls of her fortress to her blood-red throne. Sitting down, she pulls you into her lap, letting your head fall against her chest. Her arms wrap around your shaking body, your whimpers breaking her heart as she watches you.

“Sh-she’s gone.. she’s gone…” You sob over and over into Wands's warm, fabric-covered bosom. Her hand smoothes over your [color, length, and texture]-ed hair, soothing you with her soft gestures.

She presses her lips to your forehead, whispering against your skin, “Just breathe, little Angel. I’ll keep you safe.”

As her words enter your ears, it pushes you back into reality, making you look up. Frantically you look around you, letting out a scream and shoving yourself off of Wanda's lap. “Y-you're th- you're the-” You can’t get yourself to say her title, as you are struck dumbfounded of how you got here.

You scoot back across the burning marble floor, your hands starting to blister from the direct contact with the grounds of hell. Quickly, you scramble to a standing position, your shoes shielding the pain from the ground. Wanda hisses in pain, just like you; her hands burning and blistering the same as yours.

She ignores the pain and chuckles, smirking down at your cowering form. “I’m the Queen,” she finishes your sentence, gesturing to her throne and around her.

“Please don’t hurt m! Please, ju-just let me be!” You sob, unable to crumple your body to hide yourself, the floor's existence threatening to harm you.

She rolls her eyes and frowns. “Im not going to hurt you, just come here.” She opens her arms, beckoning you to come to her. Your face changes from fear to suspicion, your mind screaming at you; ‘You are, I just know it. Thats what demons do. they kill.’

“I am not a demon, I am an Archangel. There is a big difference.” She says, leaning back on her throne with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“H-how did you know I said that?” Your voice quivers as you look up at her.

She scoffs, “I can read your mind down here, little Angel,” She stands up, pulling a large sword from a sheath next to her throne, “Now, follow me.”

You step back at the sight of the sword, your breath hitching in your throat. Cautiously, you follow, the blade dragging against the marble floor. “Where are we going?” Your pure curiosity shines through your fearful state.

She did not turn around to answer you, continuing forward as she responded. “To the cells of the ‘innocents’ you think I am holding hostage down here.” Her fingers make air quotes around innocents and you roll your eyes at the comment.

“You do.” You accuse her, following what your teachers and leaders have always told you.

Her eyes narrow at you, “Okay, here,” she steps in front of a cell, a man sitting on the ground with chains on his wrists. “Ned Lowland. Loving husband, father of three children. Married to his high school sweetheart and died of a heart attack.” She laughs as she hears your desperate attempt to defend him.

“He’s innocent, he was a father, he-he didn’t do anything.” You say, searching around to find a key of some sort.

“He was chatting with two (2) twelve (12) year olds online. He met up with one, killed her, and then defiled her corpse. She is still buried in his backyard today.”

Your expression says everything; disbelief, confusion, anger. Emotions of all sorts fill your system ending in disgust hearing the body is still buried. “That is just o-one of them. But there are plenty of innocent people down here,” Turning your head, you look down the long hallway of cells. “There has to be…” whispering to yourself.

Wanda shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and pulling you to the next cell. “Ah, you’ll like this one…” She says, stopping in front of a cell with another man. “Tony Stark. Philanthropist, CEO, billionaire. A hero to some, a lover to his wife Pepper Potts. Stalked a woman named,” She pauses to look at your reaction. “Lenora Jones. He kidnapped her, raped her, and then killed her, before throwing her in the middle of a busy highway for someone to find.” You gasp.

“N-no…”

“You know that name very well, I assume?” She smirks and continues, “Lenora believed in guardian angels, and thought that she had one herself. She took on her abuser first hand knowing her angel would protect her. But, look how that ended…”

Her eyes rake over your body, feeling the rage rush through your veins as you stare at the man behind the bars. He looks back at you with an evil smirk, his intentions clear. “What a pretty little angel, wings as white as snow… I would love to see you all battered and bloody.” He says, undressing you in his mind.

You step closer to the cell door, asking the man a genuine question, “Why? Why did you do it?” You watch him stand up, his body towering over yours.

“I think you can figure that out yourself, angel.” He said, knowing you are smart enough to solve that mystery. He was corrupt. He didn’t need a reason. He had status, power, and money, but it was the control had been missing.

Tony had found Lenora by looking through his employee list. He wanted someone no one would miss or look for. Lenora, she was almost the perfect victim as she was living on her own and had moved from Colorado. She was a far way from home and away from her parents. Well, her parents were taken care of much before Tony actually made his moves on Lenora.

What? He needed her secluded and unable to call for help.

He got what he wanted, and Lenora's life was taken in the process.

“How do you feel now that you took three lives? How does it feel to burn down here, while her and her family lives up in heaven?” You ask, looking up at him with silver tears threatening to spill.

“I have never felt more powerful. The queen lets me live how I want down here. I get what ever I want…” He looks to Wanda, “Watch… Can I get another fuck toy? M’feeling a little hard.” He says in a low voice, palming his cock behind his blood-red “uniform.”

Wanda shrugs, “Why don’t you try to reach her yourself?” She smirks, nodding her head to you hinting to Tony that you are up for grabs. You look at her in horror, frozen in fear as you hear her offer.

She only laughs at your reaction, moving her sword over her shoulder, waiting for Tony to reach for you. As he does, she slices his arm off in one swing. “I’m keeping this… maybe you’ll learn that with one hand, you don’t actually need three holes.” Internally, you thank her for saving your dignity.

You scream as the events unfold in front of you. Tony writhes in pain on the ground, and you feel a pang of guilt. Looking at the blood spurting from his wound, you try your best to heal it without Wanda noticing. Even for what he did, he didn’t deserve to be in pain. That is the angel side of you acting, but Wanda had plans to corrupt you.

Wanda realizes what you are doing, acting fast by wrapping her hand around your throat, and pulling you off the ground. “This is my domain, not yours.”

You whimper as your hands scratch at her sharp and perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin. Finally, your worst fear came to light; silver, sparkling tears made their way from your eye down your cheek. Something that demons believed was a simple myth.

Wanda's expression softens and changes into realization. “Oh my… I knew they were real.” She catches a tear in the dip of her fingernail and drops you to the ground. A vial appears in her hand, and she drops your tear in. You both hiss in pain at the blistering of your hands. “Fuck! What is happening?” She says, looking at her hands and seeing the matching wounds on yours.

You quickly get up, whimpering as your hands sting from hitting the ground. Ignoring her question, you look up at her and reach for her, coughing out a response. “ N-n-no please you don't have the right-” Another cough cuts you off.

Wanda walks over to you, growling at you, “You came down here on your own!” She pauses, her finger pushing your chin up to look at her, “I own you…” More tears fall down your cheek but you quickly wipe them away.

“N-no you don’t,” Your voice cracks as you look up at her.

“You’re pathetic.” She laughs and turns away from you, walking briskly to another room down the hall. You follow her, not wanting to be with the sad souls around you any longer. But what you see terrifies you. It was a fellow angel. An angel you in fact knew very well.

“B-Bucky?” You whimper, looking up at him in his state. His hands are in cold metal cuffs suspending him from the ceiling, sharp hooks keeping his wings spread, and bloody scrapes all over his body. “Oh, Bucky…” Walking up to him, you ghost your hands over his wounds on his torso. “Bucky? Are y-you ok?” You ask in a quiet voice, seeing his eyes open.

“Y-y/n?” A raspy voice answers you, and you nod with a smile.

“Yeah, its me, Buck.” You say, trying to get him down but only causing him to whimper in pain as the hooks pull against his wings.

Wanda chuckles at the sweet angel-worry exchange, grabbing a knife that is able to hurt angels, and she pushes you back. Catching yourself, you glare up at her.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get in the middle of this.” She says, dragging the blade along Bucky's chest.

You growl as she pushes you, and you retaliate, knocking the blade from her hands. As fast as you can, you scramble to get the blade but you are pulled back by an invisible force. Once you are close enough to the door, she shoves you outside, slams the door, and locks it.

Pounding and kicking the door, you scream as loud as you can, shouting for mercy. “Please! Don’t hurt him!! Hurt me! H-hurt me! Please I’ll do anything!” You beg, hope, and pray that she will let you take his place.

“God, she’s so annoying.” Wanda says as she rolls her eyes, moving back to Bucky. Continuing where she left off, she drags the blade over Bucky's peck to mess with him.

Bucky cries as you are thrown from the room and he growls at the queen. “F-fuck you…” He curses her.

You persist, shouting outside of the door and pleading to switch places with him. You try everything; asking to switch places, letting her do anything she wants to you, killing you, hurting you. Anything. But you were ignored.

Wanda walks to the small window on the door, shutting the cover on it, blocking your view from inside. She waves her hand and the sight of Bucky chained up fades away in swirls of colored mist, revealing Bucky standing unhurt. “Hey, baby…” She smirks, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around him.

She knew you would fall for it. You were just a naive little angel who would do anything to protect anyone you cared about. It was laughable how dumb you could be, your feather-stuffed mind making you think irrationally.

Bucky looks down at Wanda but looks over at the door next. “God, I missed her. How did you find her? She was a favorite of his you know,” He says, hinting at the big guy upstairs.

“Her human died, and she was distraught. So, well you know how I am.” She smirks and kisses his lips, gently pulling him down by his hair. He smiles against her lips, holding her by her hips. He pulls away with a soft gasp.

“Let’s fuck her. Take her innocence, and strip her of her high and mightiness.” His eyes move up to the chains on the ceiling and back to Wanda.

“That sounds so good. I would love to play with her body,” She smirks, and a laugh follows. “Was she always this annoying?” Your pleading can still be heard outside of the locked door, small pounds echoing as well.

Bucky nodded. “Always a fuckin’ cry baby.” A dark chuckle leaves his throat, and he shakes his head dismissively.

Outside, you sobbed against the door. Your hand hits the door harder than the last hit, making your fingers very painful. But Wanda could feel that too, and she looked to Bucky. “Why am I feeling her pain? Her emotions? What is happening?” She asks, worry lacing her voice. Bucky knew exactly what this meant, and he couldn’t wait to tell you the news.

“You’re soulmates…” He says. “Try a cut on your hand, I bet you anything you’ll hear her scream.” He smirks, handing her the blade. Wanda tilts her head, her eyebrow quirking upwards.

“Soulmates, hm?” She puts the knife to her hand and cuts a solid line, groaning in pain. Her pain is easily soothed by your screams on the other side of the door. “Oh, I see… And she feels everything that happens to me too? Pain and pleasure?” Bucky nods. “So, every time we fucked, she came just as hard as I did…” She puts it together in the end, Bucky nodding once more to conclude her suspicions.

“She has felt everything, but her virginity is still good and ready to take. Sure she felt your orgasms, but it’s just not the same,” He says, gently wrapping Wanda's hand with a piece of gauze. “Her lord said we were soulmates, I knew that was bullshit though. I needed someone else, and I have yet to find that person. But you… you have satisfied my every need.” His words cause Wanda to smile, her cheeks turning red at his compliments.

“You were born in the wrong place… as an angel, your need for corruption makes me all hot and bothered.” Wanda says, brushing her finger through his hair, and kissing his lips once again.

Bucky groans at the sound of your crying. “We need to shut her up, dear lord! And before we fuck her, we need to get some more info out of her. Chain her up like we talked about before. We can get more tears out of her too, love.” He whispers as his lips graze Wandas once again.

“It’d be our dream, just like we talked about. Hell on earth.” She smiles and pulls away. “I’ve got to finish the tour, then we can have our fun with her.” She says, Bucky nodding reluctantly.

“God, fine. I’ll miss you, baby…” He whispers, passionately kissing her.

“I’ll miss you too,” She smiles. With another wave of her hand, the illusion is back in place, her magic adding a few more cuts to Bucky's body. She makes sure everything is perfect and opens the door to see you crying, tears on the ground, and soaking into your dress.

Immediately you jump up from the ground, wincing as you touch the ground with your cut hand. You run to Bucky, whispering in his ear, “I’ll get you out of here, I promise…” Gently running your fingers through his blood-soaked hair you turn to Wanda. “You hurt him, you witch!”

“Oh boo hoo! You’re SO scary.” She pretends to be scared, posting a false fearful look on her face before turning to leave. “Come on, I have more to show you.” She says, standing in the doorway. You look at her defiantly, your eyes narrowing at her audacity to try to pull you away from the man you love.

“N-no, I’m not leaving him…” Your voice quivers slightly.

“Fine,” Wanda sighs. “We’ll do this the hard way.” She stands up straight and her hand glows a bright red, her magic not-so-gently pulling you from the room. You scream and scratch at the floor, the ground burns your hands. A whimper leaves Wanda's throat as she too feels the pain you are in. She forces her magic to pull you to a standing position, stopping the burning of both your and her hands.

The door locks behind you, the illusion of the hurting Bucky going back to normal once again. “No! Please!” You sob as you are pulled by force down the hallway away from Bucky's cell. More silver tears roll down your cheek and you wipe them away with your sleeve, the liquid soaking the fabric. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, breathless as you struggle against the energy holding your body still.

“Im only showing you where you’ll be staying, good lord,” She rolls her eyes and disengages her magic from around you. You sigh in relief as you are freed, but knowing you are practically powerless against her. She is stronger in this domain than she is on earth, or in heaven. You have absolutely no chance of defeating her.

Following Wanda, you made your way through the many hallways of her fortress. “Why won’t you just let me go?” You ask as the two of you reach a large wooden door.

“Because heaven won’t let you back in…” Wanda responds, smirking at your expression of confusion. “Anyway, this is where you’ll be staying.” She opens the door, a red, medieval-looking room on the other side.

You were suspicious as to how welcoming she was being. This was not natural for a being of her kind. Swallowing, you take in the overwhelming room, definitely not the same as the white and elegant room you resided in, in heaven. You stop in the middle of the room, and you turn to her. “What am I really doing down here? You did all of this on p-purpose, didn’t you?” The sentence rushed out in a string of angry whispers, just trying to make sense of everything.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, stripping herself of her red, floor-length gown and making her way to her dresser.

Out of purity, you turn away, giving her privacy. “You know what I mean. You killed my human, and took me because I know Bucky.” You keep your eyes down, wrapping your arms around yourself.

She huffs and shrugs. “Yeah, well maybe…” Closing the drawer, she puts her arms through the sleeves of a red, silky robe and secures it around her body. From her hand, a red tendril pulls a spell book from the bookshelf, and she settles herself on the seat by the window.

While Wanda is occupied, you beeline to the open door. But she is two (2) steps ahead of you. With a flick of her finger, the door shuts and locks, and your response is to growl and slump against it in sadness. Your dress protects your body from the ground, and you bury your face in your hands.

Only two (2) minutes into reading, Wanda yawns, your cries bothering her. “God, you’re so fucking annoying!” She says, throwing her book across the room, almost hitting you. Your eyes widen and you duck your head, holding your arms over your head. Wanda looks at you from her spot by the window, thinking it's finally time to play with you.

“Get up. It looks like you’ll be getting what you want after all.” A smirk appears on her lips as she stands up and makes her way towards you. Her fingers tangle in your [color, length, texture] hair and she pulls hard, forcing you to stand up. You grip her hand, trying to ease the pain from her strong hold on you.

However, her grip loosens, the stinging on your scalp manifesting on Wanda's scalp as well. She growled at the fact that she kept on denying it. No demon should be a soulmate with an angel. It made her sick.

She lets go of your hair, pulling you by your wrist down the same hallways, and to the same door where Bucky was being held. Wanda smiled at Bucky standing in the middle of the room, arms folded in front of his chest. His head turned at the sudden opening of the door and he smirked too.

His eyes see your white dress and follow up to your sobbing face. He smirks and his pupils blow with lust. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, baby…” The door locks and Wanda drops you on the floor. As a defense mechanism, you plant your palms on the marble floor, looking at Wanda as she holds her hands against the cool silk of her robe.

“Stop that!! Stop!” She growls, whimpering along with you as both yours and her hands blister and burn. Bucky sees what is happening and picks you up by the neck of your dress. “God, that hurts so fucking bad!” Wanda whimpers, her magic only coming out in small sparks at first, then at full force. Just enough to heal the bubbling blisters.

Bucky’s strong arms hold you up, your limbs flailing around as you try to grab something. Once he knows that Wanda is safe, he throws you onto the bed in the corner of the room. You watch, speechless as you see Bucky, completely unharmed, his wings now painted pitch black. He’s become an archangel too.

Wanda sighs and pulls Bucky in by the leather collar around his neck, kissing his lips passionately, and lovingly. “I want to ruin her, break her.” She whispers against his lips, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

You swear you could see guilt, and regret in Bucky's eyes when he turns his attention to you. He is quick to hide it as he looks down at Wanda with a smile on his face. “I’ll get the blades, you get the toys. I’ll chain her up, and we’ll decide not he rest. Got it?” He is unfamiliar with the control in his voice, and Wanda tuts softly.

“Ah, ah, remember who is in charge here, baby boy…” She says, kissing his nose.

“You, mistress. You always.” He whispers back, the submission falling over him again.

“Good boy, now go.” Her hands cup his ass and she smacks it lightly as a gesture to make him obey.

As Wanda gathers her things, Bucky approaches your shivering form on the bed. He uses his ungodly strength to easily pick you up, placing you in the middle of the room.

You kick and struggle in his arms, his hands easily grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling them above your head. “Bu-buck! What are you doing?? Please! Don’t listen to her! She’s only here to hurt you!” You shout the cold metal now around your wrists.

Bucky growls, slapping you across the face. At the other end of the room, Wanda startles, turning to face Bucky. “Jesus, you hit hard.” She says, feeling the sting across her face as well. Sheepishly, Bucky mouths an apology and moves back to you.

“Im with someone who cares about me.” He says, collecting the rest of the blades that Wanda directs him to grab, setting them on the tray in front of your dangling body; the tips of your white flats barely scraping the floor. You shake your head, silently begging Bucky to come back to you.

Wanda reaches for a knife specifically to hurt angels, the blade laced with the blood of a newborn hellhound. Deep down, she was hoping this would only hurt you and not her as well. If she inflicted the pain, it couldn’t possibly hurt her too, right?

She starts to cut the dress from your body, ripping it into pieces to finally see your naked skin. You hear her hum from behind you and feel her eyes raking up and down your backside. Her hand rubs the ample skin of your ass, slapping it softly. Hm, I couldn’t feel that… Wanda thinks to herself. Again, she spanks you, harder each time not feeling a thing.

Every smack of your ass made you whimper and pull at the chains to try and get as far away as you could from the source.

“She doesn’t care, Bucky. Your father did, your mother did, our superiors did. I- I did!” Your body shivers in the cold air of the room, which confuses you as this is hell. Hell is supposed to be hot… You try your best to cover up but fail as the chains hold you right where Wanda wants you.

“They didn’t care. And you!” He passes as he grabs a blade from the table, putting it on your neck. “You used me to get cozy with the big man.” He accuses. Wanda watches from afar, hitching her breath as she feels the sharp tip of the blade against her neck as well. She was proud of how far Bucky had come, and she didn’t mind if she got hurt in the process if it ended with Bucky becoming even stronger than he is now.

Along with Wanda, you suck in a breath as the blade is pushed against your skin. You give up on hiding your tears, Wanda was quick to collect the falling ones in vials as they fell from your eyes. “N-no I did not. I worked my way to the top just like you did!”

To some demons, tears were the only thing that they thought was to be of silver and sparkles. But only the purest of angels had blood of gold. Ones who have never lied, cheated or hurt anyone. Ones who did their best and passed any test their lord gave to them.

You defended yourself to the best of your ability, knowing you did in fact work hard to become a guardian angel. The force of your response boosted you forward just an inch, causing the blade to nick your skin. Immediately, gold liquid drips from the small cut on your neck.

Bucky was filled with so much rage, that Wanda could feel it radiating off of his body. “You’re lying!!” He shouted the intent to kill in his mind.

Before he could do any more damage to you, Wanda's eyes widened. “Bucky, stop!” She ordered, placing a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Baby, look at her blood. Its gold!” She laughs and turns to him. “Its gold!”

You sigh, your secret revealed. Weakly, you look at Wanda, trying to cover the wound on your neck with your shoulder. “Please, i-if you’re going to kill me, just do it now, and make it quick.” Your voice cracks as you beg for a painless death.

“Mmm, no, we’re not going to kill you. You’re far too valuable.” Wanda says, licking your blood off of the blade, moaning at the glorious taste of it on her tongue. “Oh wow… so sweet…”

Bucky adds to Wanda's intentions, “We wanna keep you. You’re going to be so useful…” He forcefully moves your head to the side, lapping at the wound on your neck. You give everything to try and push him away; Kicking, wiggling your body, anything. But you are promptly stopped by a searing pain in your wrist.

Wanda has her special blade against your sensitive skin, tracing it down your arm and ending at your exposed collar bones. “You are gonna stay put…” Wanda growls, pushing the knife into your skin and dragging it to one side. A scream of agony leaves your mouth, your throat hurting from the sheer force of your voice. She moans at the sight of the shimmering, gold liquid seeping from your body. Licking the excess blood from the knife with a satisfied smile.

But Wanda was never satisfied. She needed more. And she went right to the source.

She presses open kisses to your neck, sucking your gold blood from the cut on your chest. It smears along your skin, feeling sticky against Wanda's mouth. “So fucking delicious.” She mumbles against you, holding her hands on your naked hips and squeezing them roughly pulling a scratchy whimper from your throat.

“Please,” You beg, tears of silver continuing to fall down your cheeks as you look down and away from your torturers.

Wanda smirks at your soft whisper, “Please what, little Angel? Hm? What are you beggin’ for?” Your head is forced up, her hand holding your cheeks roughly. “You look at me when I’m talking to you.” You shiver, yet you disobey. Ignoring her was a bad idea.

You pull away from her grip, closing your eyes as you hide your face in your arms.

Bucky smirks at Wanda, “It looks like someone is in for a punishment…” He says in a low growl, seeing you pull away from Wanda after a clear command.

The witch's eyes narrow, your disobedience earning you a harsh slap across the face. “Bad little Angel…” You yelp as your head is thrown to the side again, a small tear falling to the ground. “Look at me!” Wanda shouts, and finally, you look up at her. “Ah, good girl… Now Im going to have my fun with you.” She smirks and caresses your cheek softly, wiping away any stray tears.

Her thumb brushes against your quivering lips, gently pulling your bottom lip out into a pout. It takes every nerve in your body from pulling away. Wanda chuckles as she feels you shaking in your restraints.

“Don’t be scared, little Angel.” Wanda smiles and her hand travels down your bleeding chest right to your cunt, her hand cupping it softly. Instantly you cross your legs, Bucky being fast to kick your ankles to keep them apart. You see him in the corner of your eye as he moves to the far side of the room, making it very clear what he is doing once you feel your body raise just a little more.

“Please… don’t do this,” You whisper as you look Wanda in the eyes. She ignores you, pressing soft kisses to your neck as her pointer finger rubs your clit. Again, you pull your legs together. “S-stop, please! I have to st-stay pure!” You whimper, Bucky at your feet and connecting a bar to your ankles, forcing your legs to stay open.

Wanda pauses, her hand wrapping around your back and touching the base of your wings connected to your back. “Oh you know thats all bull shit, Angel.” She says, softly plucking a feather from your sensitive wing. A pained whimper escapes your mouth, and your gold blood-covered feather falls to the ground in front of you.

Wanda's fingers continue to circle your untouched clit, forcing a reluctant moan from your mouth. The chains rattling above you as you struggle to move away from her. You can feel her smirk against your neck, and she eggs you on. “I know it feels good. Just let me in.” She whispers in your ear, nipping your lobe softly.

Your head falls against hers, a connection of something much bigger than the both of you, making your skin tingle. “P-please…” You beg, her finger moving faster against your clit. “Wh-what do you want fr-from me?”

“Nothing, Angel… I just want you,” Wanda whispers, smiling as she presses her lips to yours in a soft and loving kiss. The kiss takes your breath away, letting Wanda take the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth along with her finger into your wet cunt. Pushing it in painfully slow.

Your hands grip the chains, and you look up at Bucky who stands behind Wanda. “Buck, this- this isn’t you. Please, y-you can g-get- ohh, you ca-cant get us out o-of here.” The pleas come out in a stutter, small moans interrupting each word. He ignores you, the only thing you get from him is a shrug and a palm of his hand against his cock.

The breaths from your lungs quicken slightly as Wanda's finger continues to pump in and out of your pussy. “Please th-this i-is everything o-o-oh my stars,” You shake your head trying to ignore the pleasure you are being forced to feel. Wanda doesn’t stop at just one finger, she enters another finger, curling both against that one good spot inside of you. “Ah!” Your little yelp only encourages her to keep going, her fingers moving faster by the second.

“I- I can’t do this,” You whisper, the new feeling inside of you rippling pleasure throughout your entire body. Slowly, the orgasmic feeling arises in you, and Wanda can tell you are close.

“You can, I know you want to give in…” Wanda whispers, her lips sucking soft love marks onto your soft skin. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You shout at her, “N-no, I can’t do this! I can’t!” Somehow she can understand your feelings, holding you against her body as she fucks you with her fingers. She can tell you are so close, not only to cumming, but to breaking too. You were one tap away from shattering.

Slowly, your head leans forward and your eyes begin to close. “Come on little angel, I just wanna make you feel so good…” Wanda whispers, kissing your forehead as you crumble underneath her touch. It felt like fire touching your skin, and your body relaxes against the chains, allowing Wanda to slide even further into your cunt.

“A-all I ask i-is to be g-g-, Oh my stars... b-be gen-gentle please,” You whisper, knowing you can’t escape her.

“I will be, little Angel. Just relax,” She responds, kissing your cheek and letting you lay your head against her chest. “Oh, you are such a good girl, my little angel.”

Bucky smirks as your walls start to break and tremble, his thoughts coming out into words. “I told you she would be easy to break…” He puts on a fake frown as he looks at your shaking body, Wanda getting you oh, so close to your orgasm. “I was hoping there would be a lot more of those precious little tears. But we have aaaaall that blood, don’t we mistress?” He whispers in Wanda's ear, her lips forming a smirk against your forehead.

“We do, baby…” She says, her fingers ceasing movement inside of your pussy. You were so close, but Wanda had other plans for you, and you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. “Grab mistress’s strap, will you love?” She asks Bucky, who gladly obliges.

Your eyes widen, “Wh-whats a s-strap?” The innocence of your mind fully shined through, and your voice quivered in fear.

The woman above you only chuckles, saying softly, “Lets just say… it will feel much better than these…” She moves her fingers inside of you again, pulling out and forcing them into your mouth. “Suck them clean,” She says in a dark voice, your eyes avoiding her gaze as humiliation falls over your face. But, you obey, licking her fingers clean of your slick.

Wanda praises Bucky, kissing his cheek and tugging his hair. “Now be a good boy, and get some restraints on the bed, ok?” He nods, handing her the strap and occupying himself on the bed. You pull your eyes away from him and to the strap in Wanda's hands.

“Wh-where does th-that go?” You ask with even more fear than before, with sparkly tears in your eyes once again.

“That goes in here…” Wanda's fingers enter your cunt again, even deeper than before. You suck in a deep breath and double over, pulling on the chains above your head.

“N-no no no absolutely not! Please! It's going to hurt it-its going to hurt!” You sob, that last bit of hope inside your heart dimming as you look to your former friend. “Bucky, do something! Please!”

The woman in front of you tries to soothe you, gently cupping your cheek and bringing your attention back to her. “No, no. Mistress is going to stretch you out so so good, and it won’t hurt.” She whispers, adding a third finger to the two already inside of you. “M’gonna take your virginity, my little angel…” She smirks.

Your head shakes vigorously, “Thats my soulmates j-j-job and m'not su-supposed to be taken yet please!” A single silver tear rolls down your cheek and onto your exposed breasts. “Please," You whisper, your voice small and weak. “There h-has to be another way…"

She chuckles, pulling her fingers from you again. “No, there is no mistake. You of all people know that,” Her whispers make your skin crawl, and you look up at her. “Your soulmate is the queen of hell,” A low and dark laugh leaves her mouth, your body going numb. “Watch, angel. And you’ll see exactly why,” She grabs a knife and orders Bucky to stand next to her. “I want you to cut a straight line on my palm. Y/n, if you feel it too, then you’ll know.” She smirks.

“No…” You whisper, still in denial of the initial news. The proof was most definitely there, but you did not want to see or feel it. Moving your head up weakly, you watch as Bucky drags the blade along Wanda's hand, a similar pain aching on your hand as well. You whimper, golden blood oozing from your hand. It drips down your arm, and around to your chest, but you ignore it. “M-my soulmate is the queen... of... hell…”

Quickly, Bucky bandages his mistress’s hand and gathers more vials to collect your blood. He is very close to you now, his body mere centimeters from you. Your eyes meet his cold blue ones, and your friendship finally breaks. “She’ll keep you safe,” Bucky whispered, guiding the last bit of blood into a glass bottle. “She’s kept me safe.” He pulls away, setting the now collected blood onto the table against the wall of the cell.

The silver tears in your eyes now fall freely down your face, the feeling of betrayal and sadness hitting you like a wall.

“I will keep you safe, little angel. I promise,” Wanda steps in front of you again, her un-bandaged hand slipping in between your spread-apart legs. To fingers enter you, and her thumb rubs your clit slowly, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“H-how can i t-trust yo- Ohhhh,” You let out an involuntary moan, your head falling forward against her shoulder.

“How can you trust me when what, Angel?” Wanda asks and she continues to rub your clit in just the right way. You look to Bucky, but shake your head, ignoring her question and focusing on the feelings.

Your whimpers get loud and Wanda can sense your orgasm is coming close, your walls clenching around her fingers once.

“Cum for me, little Angel. Let me give you pleasure.” She whispers, kissing your lips passionately as you cum, imaginary fireworks going off around you and her.

You are barely able to return the kiss, worried about doing anything wrong. While your walls squeeze and clench around her fingers, your legs shake and knees buckle, making you fall limp against the chains. The strain against your wrists makes you whimper, and Wanda instantly takes notice of this. Gently and slowly, she pulls her fingers from your wet pussy and wipes them on her robe. Next, she unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists and holds you in her arms.

Weak arms wrap their way around Wanda, your body clinging to hers as your juices leak from your cunt and onto your inner thigh. She smiles down at you and gently picks you up, taking you to the bed in the corner of the room. Your head hits the pillow first, and then the rest of your body is cushioned on the semi-soft mattress, your wings splayed out underneath you.

From above you, Bucky’s shit-eating grin glows. He grabs your arms and clasps the cuffs around your wrists again, pulling the chains tight so you are all spread open. Doing the same to your ankles, he smirks at his handy work, every inch of your body exposed to him and Wanda.

“How's that mistress? Do we need a gag if she screams?” He asks in a quiet voice, making sure you don’t hear anything.

Wanda shakes her head and unties her robe, her beautiful body practically glowing in the dimmed lighting of the room. She smirks at you chained up and spread out, shaking her head. “Everyone screams in hell.” She says, crawling on top of you, kissing your skin softly to remind you that she is still there and cares.

The bed shivers along with you, tears rolling down your cheeks like a leaky faucet. “P-please,” You whimper softly, looking up at Wanda as she cups your face in her soft hands.

“Hey, its ok, I’ve got you…” Her whispers are soft and genuine, yearning to make you feel comfortable and not scared. Your nerves are slightly calmed, your eyes locking with hers as they look down upon you.

You whimper, her lips meeting yours softly. “I don't wan-want it to hurt,” Wanda hears your worries, gently rubbing her nose against yours as she leans closer to you.

“It won’t, my Angel. Just a bit in the beginning then it’ll feel so good.” Wanda smiles, pecking your lips again. You close your eyes as she embraces your delicate body, only pulling away to reach for her strap, a whimper escaping your mouth as you see it. She secures the harness around her hips and uses some saliva to make sure it is ready for you.

With love, she lays down beside you, softly entering her fingers into you again, stretching your walls to accommodate her large cock. She kisses your neck, smiling as your back arches off the bed. When you turn your head, you are met with the sight of Bucky, playing with his hard cock as he watches the two of you. It scares you and you move your gaze back to Wandas.

“Just focus on me, sweet Angel.” She whispers, kissing your lips as she sits up again, settling between your widely spread legs. Taking some slick from your tight hole, she rubs it over the cock on her hips, wetting it so it does not cause any pain. Seeing the fear in your eyes makes her pause, only poking the tip into your entrance. Her body lays on top of you and you bury your face in the crook of her neck. A gentle hand cradles your head, and she slowly starts to push into you, rubbing your clit with her other hand.

Bucky was angry that she stole your attention away from him. His stare burns holes in the back of your head as you look up at Wanda, he was supposed to be in that position; taking your purity without the comfort of a bed. He wanted to tear you in two, fuck you in every single hole you had, and kill you in the end. But he couldn’t because he’s the queen's pet. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He tucks his cock back into his pants, reaching for the vials of tears from the table and putting them in his pockets. Your moans and whimpers die down as he leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was going to take over this place, intending to anyone who got in his way.

Once Bucky is gone, you and Wanda continue, not aware of his exit. All you can think of are these overwhelming sensations you are experiencing. It feels like you are being split in half, your arms and legs pulling at the chains. Your back arches hoping the movement will ease the pain.

“Angel… just relax…” She whispers in your ear, kissing up along your jaw right to your lips. You try your hardest, you really do, but the fear is just too much and it makes you tense even more, your toes curling at the sensations. Your lips part, a small moan leaving them just before Wanda captures them in a kiss.

“Let Mistress in,” Her hand moves from your clit to your hip, rubbing your ample skin so softly. Opened-mouth kisses are planted along your neck, small bruises most likely going to show.

“I- I can’t s’too big,” The stretch is almost too much, tears falling down your temples and onto the pillow underneath your head.

“You can take it, angel, I know you can…” She whispers in your ear, her cock finally bottomed out inside of your cunt. You yell out in pain, muffling your scream by softly biting down on Wanda's shoulder. Her cock stretching you out contorts your face of discomfort to a face of pleasure and euphoria, the feeling of being so full the only thing on your mind.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay, my sweet Angel.” Wanda begins to move her hips, pushing her cock in and out of your cunt. Squelching can be heard, your juices making moving effortless and painless. Of course, the large size of her cock was still prominently there, and the movements turned from pain to pleasure very quickly.

But soon, your breaths quicken, your senses heighten, and you become uncomfortably aware of everything that is happening. Your wings aren’t sitting right, your wrist is twisted in the cuffs weirdly, and Wanda's lips feel much too hot against your skin. Wanda looks down at you and halts her hips, taking in your disoriented and distressed look.

“Hey, just breath. Take a deep breath for me Angel…” She whispers, her hand cupping your cheek and her thumb brushing against your lips. “You gotta trust me, little one.” Her head tilts and you nod softly.

You whimper, letting out a small response. “O-ok…”

“Good girl, oh Angel, you are such a good girl.” She whispers as she kisses your forehead. The butterflies in your belly flutter to life, a small smile appearing as the praise finally starts to affect you.

“Was that a smile?” Wanda quirks her brows, her heart feeling big when she sees your lips turn up. You nod and she nuzzles her nose against yours as she starts to move again. “Good girl. All I want is to make you happy.” She leans down to kiss your bare collarbones softly, “See, Angel. I’m not a bad person.”

You nod, agreeing with her. “Y-you aren’t, a-and I’m sorry- ohhh-” A moan cuts you off, her fingers rubbing your clit again. “I-I’m so sorry I said you w-were.” Looking up at her, you see her face soften at your apology.

“Oh angel,” You know she forgives you. Even if she doesn’t say the words, you can feel the way she holds you, fucks you, kisses you, and talks to you.

Wanda smiles down at you, and in the next moment, her lips are on yours once again. She smiles stupidly against your lips as she starts to fall in love for the first time. Her hips begin to move again, her finger moving faster on your clit. It's not only you who can feel how close you are to your release - Wanda can feel it too, she can see it.

As your cunt hugs her cock, you cum with a shout. Your legs shake in their restraints and Wanda swallows your moans with an even more passionate kiss. Her hands rub your hips and she smiles at you once she pulls away. Returning the smile, you pull at the chains holding your limbs in place.

Wanda sighs and gently pulls out of you, wiping you down with her discarded robe. “Here, lets get these off of you…” She says, a snap of her fingers making the clasps come loose. You rub your wrists and bend your knees to curl up, moving to your side where you can fold your wings to your back. “There, are you feeling alright?” She asks, sitting up next to you and pulling you into her arms. You nod and kiss her cheek softly.

Your legs bend and you lay your head against her chest, smiling as her hand strokes your soft wings. “So soft…” She nuzzles her head into the soft, white feathers, and wraps her arms around you. Tenderly, she presses soft kisses to your neck. “Such a good girl, my sweet little angel.”

~~~~~~~

Bucky's plan had worked. A power he had never felt before was flowing through his veins, and god, he loved how it. He was confident that the power from the angel's tears would make him more powerful than the queen of hell herself, and he was ready to execute them both; the angel and the queen.

He checked the dungeon first, but both you and Wanda were gone. Next was the bedroom, not there either. Last was the library. Wanda spent a lot of time there, so it was most likely that she would have shown it to you. Alas, there you were. Wanda was holding your white-robe-covered body in her arms while her favorite book to you. That book is the story of Peter Rabbit.

There was nothing in particular she liked about the book, other than the fact it involved a chase. She absolutely loved a good chase and with possession of her own little bunny, she could do what she wanted. Not for long, of course, as in the next few moments they will be dead.

Bucky glares as Wanda finishes the book, her hand coming to your cheek and caressing it softly. Her thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, and he had enough when you kissed it. Quietly, he enters the room with a large sword in his hand and a dagger in his other hand. He smirks as he sees you hug Wanda, her arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What do you want?” She spits, moving you to the other side of the couch and putting herself in the middle of you and the threat.

Bucky raises his dagger, “Her.” The blade pointed straight at you. You shivered at the silver edge glistened in the light of the library.

Wanda growls, “Not gonna happen,” She stands up, her hand glowing a bright red with a ball of energy beginning to grow. You watch in horror as a blast of gray energy hits Wanda, forcing her across the room. You jump up in response, running to her and making sure that she is okay.

“No, no, no, no, Wanda, please stay with me, Wanda please!” You whimper, sensing Bucky getting closer by the second. You growl at Bucky who is now just a couple feet (or meters for you non-Americans) from behind you. Standing up, you focus on your power is much more powerful from the source, than Bucky's use of your tears.

A bright white light shoots across the room and shoots Bucky straight in the heart. He starts to glow and shine as pure, white rays strike through him. Once he catches his breath, Wanda is able to get up on shaky legs. Her eyes burn bright red and large tendrils extend from her hands and each one cuts through Bucky's floating body. Crimson blood splatters everywhere as each long tentacle of energy stabs through his torso, legs, arms, and head.

You cover yourself with your wings as his blood splatters across them painting them red. Out of curiosity, you put your wings back, only to see the finale of Wanda's revenge. The red tendrils wrap their way around Bucky's limbs and neck, pulling in different directions. His severed torso falls to the ground and the rest of his blood is splattered everywhere else.

Your body is soaked and you are frozen in fear. Wanda continues to control each of the tendrils, stabbing in and out of Bucky's dismembered being leaving him just a pile of bloody body parts. Your eyes flick to Wanda, and you sigh knowing that she should stop.

Approaching her carefully, you gently place your hand on her shoulder. She whips around, the energy in her hand turning into a ruby-red sword. She was ready to kill anyone who got in her way. Once the realization hits that it is you, she falls to her knees and lets out a chilling sob.

You drop with her and you smile softly as she pulls you to her chest. “Hey, its ok… it’s ok…” You whisper in her ear, not thinking that you would be the one comforting her at this moment. Her hair is coated in the sticky crimson liquid and you do your best to brush it out of her hair with your fingers as best you can.

She smiles at you, and you close the gap between you two, kissing her passionately with every fiber of your being. Wanda being Wanda, she deepens the kiss, wrapping her hand around the back of your neck to bring you impossibly closer. Silently she brushes her fingers over your blood-coated wings and she is in control and emotionally intact, she gently picks you up, one arm going under your legs and the other cradling your back.

Your arms wrap around her neck and nuzzle your face into her chest. As you see the direction she is walking, you smile. You first enter the bedroom, a large room filled with the most exquisite decor, the softest blankets, and the finest clothing for your and Wanda's likeness. You then entered the bathroom, a tub large enough to fit three in the center of the room. A glass chandelier hangs above it, and numerous candles are nestled in their places.

Wanda sets you on your feet and begins to press soft kisses to your jaw and to the nape of your neck. She reaches around your front to untie the robe draped on your body, and her hands gently drag it down your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. Your wings spread, stretching out to their full span, and fall back to their settled place at the center of your back. The queen ogles at your beautifully open wings and smiles as she pets the feathers.

“So beautiful, angel,” She whispers in your ear, causing your heart to skip a beat. Her hand hovers over your shoulder, her magic turning the faucet on to a desirable temperature. Wanda cresses down your arm, goosebumps pebbling on your skin, her hand grasping yours softly. Guiding you to the tub, you step in and allow the warmth to embrace you.

The water turned red the moment you stepped in, but it was meant to happen. Wanda was happy to see Bucky's blood come off of your precious body. You rested your head against your arm, looking up at the beautiful queen gently scrubbing the blood from your skin. She was going to save your wings for last, wanting to spend every second she could with you.

With each wipe of the soft cloth, your natural skin color began to show again. Your body is restored and clean, and you have never felt better. Even in heaven, you could never relax and feel safe at the same time. There was always someone lurking around a corner, waiting to catch you in the act of anything unholy.

It was true, that when Wanda and Bucky made love to one another, you felt everything. Since you were so far away, it was a much lighter feeling. But the nights when you were in your own bed, and in the privacy of your room, it seemed like that was when the pair would go at it the hardest.

Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she stood. Looking up at her, you smile as she takes her robe off as well, letting it drop to the floor. You happily move forward in the tub, making room for the queen behind you. She smiled as she moved her legs around your body, her hands meeting your feathered wings softly.

“Let’s clean these up… make em’ all pretty again.” You smile at her words, her kind hands against your wings causing you to shiver. A good shiver this time! This time, your shiver was induced by an intimacy that only lovers can define. Your wings may be just another part of your body, but to you, they are so much more. It was a part of you that no one got to touch. If they were touched, it was forced and unwanted. Until now…Now your soulmate was able to feel you and feel that part of you that you let no one touch.

You vowed to never let anyone touch your wings after what happened the first time;

Soap is lathered up in Wanda's hands, and suds with warm water gently cascaded down your wings. With care, she lifts up some of your feathers to scrub deeper, but she is met with a large scar that follows the span of your wings. Her lips turn down to a frown as her finger softly traces the faded, yet obvious scar. “What happened?”

Your eyes open, and you feel her fingers on your wings. “Hm?" Realization hits, and you sigh as you gather the courage to tell her the story.

“I was given a second chance to go to earth. I was working out the basics of invisibility with guardianship, and I accidentally showed myself to my first human. His name was Steve Rogers. He kept me in his basement, put hooks in my wings. That scar was the consequence of praying for help… He cut a whole layer of feathers off, and made it a garland for his mantle.” You pause, once again finding the strength to finish. "Ever since then, my lord kept me from going to earth until he found a more gentle human for me. But she died, and now I’m here.”

Wanda's heartstrings were pulled, and a tear fell down her cheek and dripped into the red water. She had a hard time finding the right thing to say, but she knew she had to say something. “You didn’t deserve that, my sweet angel…” She leans forward to kiss the skin between your wings, comforting you the best she can. She remembered that day. She could feel everything that man did to you. It may have not shown up on her, but she felt every feather he plucked, each poke to hold your wings out, and the pull of the chains for him to see even more.

You knew this too, but she understood your silence. The bathroom stayed quiet as Wanda cleaned your wings, ridding them of Bucky's blood. It was just the trickling of the water dripping off your feathers that echoed throughout the room.

Finally, your wings were white again, and you helped Wanda clean herself too. Once the two of you were clean, she emptied the bathtub only to fill it again. There was no need to protest as you loved baths. They made you feel like you were wrapped in a big hug. To make it even better, Wanda's black-feathered wings curled around you and her, your head laying on her chest, and your body contently in her arms.

Now with your soulmate being that embrace, you felt like you were finally home. You had a purpose here. You had fallen right into her embrace, and you will forever be her fallen angel.

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