#but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds
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ᡣ𐭩 Make It Up
tags: bf!matt x fem!reader
warnings: smut, fem receiving, p in v, oral, use of baby, i lowkey forgot how to fucking tag .
summary: you and matt get in a fight so he decides to make it up to you ;)
word count: 1,250 (ish) words .
more under the cut
quick little a/n: i hope this is okay! i have been trying to write for so long — literal MONTHS — i’ve just been so unmotivated and busy!! i love you all so much. i was high asf while proofreading this omg.. i hope it’s not all bad .
The silence was deafening. Matt and I had just gotten into another pointless disagreement that left us both feeling shitty. All couples have their ups and downs sure, but Matt and I were arguing almost everyday now.
I don't blame him, he's been so caught up with his brothers and filming endlessly while I've been pent up in our small home.
The cold air hugs me tight as we sit on opposite sides of the couch, minding our business, neither of us daring to say a word. With the atmosphere being so quiet the sounds of a buzzing fridge fills my ear. Matt stares quietly at his phone trying to act preoccupied as I sit hugging myself and watching my own. I can see him in the corner of my eye wanting to say something, his mouth slightly moving.
"I," he says croakily before clearing his throat, "I'm sorry baby." he says his tone coated in guilt and regret.
I ignore him at first, before staring back at him with glossy doe eyes, a small, sad smile spreads across my face before I scoot closer to him on the couch. He stretches his right arm out inviting me into his chest.
As I lay my head on his warm chest he places a soft, loving kiss on my forehead, fixing my stray hairs with his gentle fingers, his other free hand making it's way shyly to my hip. I stare up at him as he watches down on me, my hand resting on his chest as my leg presses up against his lap.
"Let's not fight anymore," I whisper softly, "please."
"I promise, pretty girl." He replies in a reassuring, soothing voice, while stroking my hip before sneaking his hand under my shirt.
A trail of goosebumps follows the patterns of his fingertips on my skin, my hand cupping his stubble covered jaw as he takes my lips in passionately.
Matt pulls away with puffy lips before taking me in with his deep blue eyes, clouded with lust.
"Mmh, let me make it up to you." he says with an intoxicating voice before sinking back down on the couch to nip at the freckle on my neck.
He pulls away once again as I nod my head in response, the corners of his plump lips turning upwards. He holds my waist tight while fixing my position as he hops off the couch, kneeling down between my legs on the cold, wooden floor.
His fingertips toy with the material of my gray, baggy sweats, almost asking for permission,
“Is this okay baby?” he asks in the softest tone, his fingers hooked underneath my waist band.
I nod in response. The small gesture excites Matt and he tugs at my pants, pulling them down with my underwear, tossing them carelessly into a sad pile in the corner of the living room. My soft thighs now exposed as Matt takes in my legs with his lustful eyes.
He plants his warm hands on my thighs and he moves closer to my pulsing core. His tongue licks a long stripe up my slick while he holds eye contact, his fluffy hair sitting perfectly out of place. I gasp at his touch and my hand trails down to his hair, lightly tugging at it in response.
“Fuck Matt.” I moan softly while tipping my head back in pleasure.
He works his mouth at my sensitive clit, sucking, nipping, and licking so perfectly as he hums against me sending waves of sensation through my veins. One of his hands leaves my thigh, making its way closer to my wet pussy, he drags his slender fingers through my heat before pushing two fingers in softly.
His fingers curl perfectly inside of me, reaching places I never could on my own. I tighten my grip on his long hair as moans and mumbles spill from my lips, Matt continues to penetrate my walls and my swollen clit.
My legs shake, constricting around his head and he laughs against my pussy.
“Already close?” He says with fake sympathy while staring up at me with puffy, wet lips.
“Mmh s-so close.” I barely manage to reply with a full sentence, my back arching at the stimulation.
Matt moves away from my throbbing pussy, bringing his face closer to mine, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he presses the tent in his rough jeans against my burning clit. He hovers his lips over mine, breathing lightly.
"You taste so fuckin' good, baby." He groans against my lips before sinking into them, a light tang hitting my lips as his tongue explores my mouth.
"Matt.." I say softly, my tone drenched in lust and neediness.
My hands grips his belt, fiddling with it as i struggle to undo it. Matt laughs softly before standing up, swiftly undoing his belt and ripping it quickly out of the loops on his jeans, he tosses it to the pile of my clothes before kicking his jeans and boxers off.
"This what you want, hmm sweet girl?" He teases in a deep voice, his tip leaky and red, begging for touch. His hands make their way to the hem of my tee before ripping it over my head.
His eyes take in my bare chest, a smirk growing on his face.
"Such a bad girl, wearing nothing underneath just for me?" He says while positioning his tip at my entrance, his hand leading it through the puddle in core.
He pushes his length in, stretching me out immediately, letting a low moan out as he holds my hips supporting me, pulling me down onto his throbbing cock.
I let out a string of curses while moaning softly, my hands gripping the couch cushion for support. Matt picks up his pace, his thighs hitting mine as he penetrates my core. He lets out a quiet whimper, he icy blue eyes locked onto mine.
His hands grip my skin, tight enough to leave marks as he pushes deep inside of me. Matt lowers his head to meet mine his breath warm against my ear,
“I want you to cum for me baby,” he grunts, “leave a mess all over me.”
His words are ecstasy in my ear, he leaves a harsh kiss at my neck, my nails digging into his back as I feel myself getting closer.
“Oh God Matt.” I moan loudly.
Matt’s thrusts become sloppier, and I feel my orgasm creeping closer. My walls clamp down on his twitching cock the same way my fingers cling onto his bicep. Our moans and the sound of skin slapping bounces around the quiet room that now smells of sex.
I grip Matt tightly as my orgasm collapses over me, he thrusts harshly before spilling his warm cum into my walls.
“F-fuck.” He stutters though his gritted teeth before collapsing on top of me, my body jerking at the pleasure washing over me.
Matt kisses my lips softly while slowly pulling out and lying on the couch next to me, pulling the stray blanket over our sweaty bodies. He drags his fingers through the mixture of cum and saliva leaking from and pushes it into me, making me shake.
“No more fighting,” Matt says quietly, holding me tight, “I love you too much for that stupid shit.”
I giggle softly at his words while burying myself in his exposed chest, pressing a small kiss on his pale skin. I nod lightly, wrapping my leg around him and he squeezes me tightly.
this is actually the worst i’ve ever written 💀 i’m just tryna get back into write so bare wit me
#sturniolo triplets#fanfic#smut#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic
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baking kitchen mess (aitana bonmatí)
Recipe For Relaxing (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)
A/N: Barca you're massive 💪
[WOSO Masterlist]
It’s been a long day.
First, your ever lovely girlfriend drank what was left of the coffee and left for an early training without even telling you.
Then your alarm clock seemingly forgot how to do its job, leaving you, still barely awake with no caffeine in sight, to scramble to make it to work on time.
The meeting you slipped into was already in motion, multiple eyes zeroing in on you as you tried to sneak in undetected. So with a healthy dose of tiredness and shame following you to your classroom, you really hoped that your rambunctious lot of third graders would magically surprise you with manners fit for royalty.
It really shouldn’t have irked you as much as it did when all twenty-five of them seemed to catch the wiggle-bug. Nobody was able to sit for more than a couple minutes without jumping or shouting what was on their minds.
By the time the clock signaled the end of the school day you were more than ready to rip out your hair. As politely as you could you wished all of your students goodbye, waving at their grinning faces as their parents herded them away.
Any hope you had at relaxing was dashed when you noticed the cars lining the street all the way up to your driveway.
Sighing, you drove a bit further away before parking on the curb, knowing better than to expect the girls to leave you a clear spot to park in your own driveway.
Mumbling under your breath you stepped over the shoes discarded carelessly by the door. Although you could hear laughter wafting from the living room, you took the side door to get a well needed beer from the fridge. As much as you loved Aitana and all twenty of her clubmates, you needed something to help rewind before even entertaining the idea of playing host.
The second your foot crosses the doorway leading into your kitchen however, you freeze. Your fingers tighten against the doorframe as you take in the sight in front of you.
Something was baking in the oven, but dirty bowls littered your counters, as did half-used ingredients. Flour covered almost every surface, even tracking throughout the ground.
Clearly the girls had never heard of leaving things as they found it.
You shut your eyes, jaw clenching so hard that you know your dentist will be giving you an earful when you see her next.
“Aitana Bonmatí Conca, what the hell did you do to my kitchen?!”
The chattering ceases instantly.
Angrily turning around, you stomp into the living room to give the girls a piece of your mind.
You’re met with wide guilty eyes, the footballers looking scolded before you even started.
“Hola bebé, you’re home early.” Aitana gives you a timid grin but you’re not amused.
Your nose flares angrily as you take another step forward. Everyone flinches when you shove a finger into Aitana’s chest. “Clean up my kitchen. Now.”
The air is silent as no one dares to move.
You quirk an eyebrow, tilting your head to make eye contact with the rest of the team. “Now! Pronto! Move your asses girls! I wanted it spotless yesterday!”
It’s like a hurricane storming when everyone scrambles up all at once. Quiet apologies are thrown your way as they pass by, everyone eager to escape your anger.
Aitana tries to sneak away with her teammates but your hand clamps down on her arm before she can even take a step.
“I love you?” she tries, deflating when she sees your unamused look.
“Aitana, babe, love of my life, I love you but you’re the bane of my existence. I’m exhausted and would love it if you could reign in the girls and not make messes for me to clean up.”
A look of determination crosses her face as Aitana nods quickly. “I will do a better job of cleaning up.”
“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing a bit when Aitana timidly leans forward to give your forehead a soft kiss.
Your girlfriend takes it as a win when she wraps her arms around you and you instantly sink into her hold. The exhaustion from your day seemingly catches up to you as you sway dangerously, ready to go to bed despite it still being early.
Sighing, you rub at your eyes before gently pushing Aitana off of you. “Thank you for putting up with me. ‘M sorry for yelling.”
“It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Is there anything I could do for you?”
Humming, you give her a kiss when she leans forward for one.
“Could you go get me a beer and tell the rest of the girls that they don’t have to hide in the kitchen from me?”
“I--” Aitana winces. “I think we’re out.”
When Ingrid pokes her head out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, selected by the bunch as the least likely to get her head bitten off by you, she’s met with the sight of you sitting on the couch, feet thrown up on the table as you mindlessly flip through the TV.
You hold up a stack of papers towards the Norwegian.
“Got a new team bonding activity for you heathens.”
Aitana sighs when she catches sight of the rest of her teammates with each of their own personalized shopping lists at the store down the street.
“She got you guys too?”
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gale & karlach
i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.
she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.
not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:
gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb
Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely.
-
Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right?
-
Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?
but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:
act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter
Karlach: Doing all right, Gale?
Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay...
devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it.
Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.
act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb
Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale?
Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely.
Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places.
Karlach: I can only imagine.
i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.
karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:
Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad?
Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms.
Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope.
Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in.
Karlach: What's he going to do?
-
Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it.
Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all.
-
Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it.
Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain.
Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off.
-
Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds.
Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option.
Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms.
-
Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?!
-
Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it.
Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.
i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").
their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:
Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?
Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first.
devnote: Like it's a well-known saying
Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard!
devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale)
Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.
Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again...
Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us.
devnote: Reassuring
Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it?
Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface.
devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore
Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach.
Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage.
devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image
Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.
Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own.
Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like?
Karlach: Yes! I like!
Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.
Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern
Gale: You can read?!
devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it
Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.
devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious
Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep.
devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby)
Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.
even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:
before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra
Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.
she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:
karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped
Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.
once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."
she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#karlach#karlach cliffgate#karlach x gale#gale x karlach#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#ch: gale dekarios#ch: karlach#vg: baldur's gate 3#series: baldur's gate#meta: mybg3#i wanted to focus on a dynamic where a friend/partner focuses on gale#bc from what i see very often#that is neglected entirely#and often focuses more or completely on what gale can do for another#anyhow i love them
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Shadow and Flame pt. 1
Azriel X Reader
Synopsis: Azriel is down bad in his feelings for Elain when a new female crosses his path. The job of the Shadowsinger is to know all and yet you evade his knowledge.
Warnings: None
A/N: Hello. This is my first time writing a fanfic for this series. I hope you like it ✨
Part Two
----------------------------------------------
“Whilst we wait for Lucien, let's play a game. Fuck, Mate, Kill, High Lords edition, our own brother excluded of course. I mean there's days I want to do all to him”
“Ugh Cass” Nesta recoiled at her own mates idea of a bar game, the group laughing.
“Hardly fair to Feyre when she's done or almost done those to more than two already” Rhys growled at Mors joking tone, the table continuing its howling. Rita's music swelled around the booth of the best friends, lightheartedness well and truly arriving once again to the group.
“Az you go first”
“I politely decline Cass” protests followed his words
“Leave poor forlorn Az alone”
“I am not forlorn Amren” the Shadowsinger tried his best to not grit out the words.
“I would consider pining after Elain to be pretty forlorn” Amren gestured with her head to the middle Archeron sister making her way back to the booth balancing a tray of drinks.
“Stop saying that word” this time Azriel couldn't hide his annoyance.
“-Right well anyways, I think we'd all kill Tamlin -” the group hummed in agreement to Cass as Azriels mind disengaged from the conversation.
Was that how he'd been feeling? Had the feelings of creeping crawling rising abandonment at the hands of his brothers for their mates affected him more than he thought? Why couldn't he have what they had with Elain? It made sense to him, but why didn't it make sense to the Mother? He shook this from his head as he frequently did. Elain joined the table once again, passing around the drinks.
Azriel tore his eyes from her movements and landed them on the crowd of dancing Velaris residents, when a new figure approaching the bar top had his eyes transfixed.
He watched the female dip between the crowd so masterfully as if she was made of the same shadows that rested peaceful around him. She effortlessly passed the dancing Fae in candlelight.
“Earth to Az” Cass’ hand waved in front of his hazel eyes pulling Azriel back to the booth for a moment to sweep away his brother's paw. His eyes darted back to the room to find the female gone again.
“What is it Lassie, Timmy stuck down the well?”
“What does that even mean Cass?” Azriel couldn't ignore the bizarre statement.
“I'm not sure, I read it in a human book once”
“I didn't know you could read” Cass feigned hurt at Feyres comment, the table of friends laughing.
“Up until about last week you definitely couldn't Feyre”
“Uncalled for!” Freye laughed hard at Cass’ comeback.
“Anyways, what is it Az….Az?” Cass found the seat next to him empty, the Shadowsinger long mingled into the crowd.
You reached the bar top skillfully, your hand reaching up and retrieving a drink ordered by someone else and dipping back to your side before the bartender noticed. You gave a small smile into the tumbler of icy brown liquor as you turned back into the room, ready to push back off. Your gaze immediately caught the Shadowsingers eyes as he leaned on the back wall watching you. He simply raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. You sighed lowly, replacing the drink back on the bar top next to a tea light candle without removing your eyes from Azriels. You narrowed your eyes at him, the crowd dancing and swirling across your sightline. Azriel finally blinked and found you gone from the spot when his eyes flickered back open.
You crossed the threshold of Rita's into the streets, a little startled someone had seen you, a new occurrence.
“You don't care for another drink?” The males voice stopped you in your tracks at the mouth of the adjacent alley. You curled your hands into small fists and exhaled out. Caught. You had been caught.
“Don't go shy on me now” you slowly span on your heel to face the male. Azriel felt his breath hitch slightly at the sight of you in the firelit street lights. He felt a bit dazzled by your beauty, piercing copper eyes previously inhibited by the dim and smoky light of Rita's.
“Can I help you Azriel?
“How do you know me?” He couldn't hide the hint of surprise in his voice. You closed your eyes gently, sighing deeply at your foolish slip up before opening them again.
“I don't”
“Why don't I believe that? Who are you?”
“If I told you that, I'd have to kill you” you gave a small smile, angling your head gently, tempting him to step in closer to your magnetic eyes.
“I'd like to see you try”
“That can be arranged Shadowsinger” he scoffed at your cocky tone. You turned back to face the alley, quickly dipping down it but not fast enough. Azriel flashed before you, sidestepping you to where your back met the cold brick of the alley.
“I asked your name” he stepped in close to you, your eyes looking to the exit to the side of him, only to have his wings open slightly to trap you inwards. You sighed, looking up through your eyelashes to find his eyes fixated downwards on you.
“I'm not anyone important”
“Nonsense, every resident of Velaris is important“
“And who said I was a resident of Velaris?” you couldn't hide your smugness from him as he seemed to scan your face further, checking it again the rolodex of Fae in his mind to find a gap in knowledge.
His shadows leapt around him in alarm at being caught out with a stranger. A true stranger. Who were you? Shadows crossed his face to try to relay information and when they settled again you were gone from in front of him.
His wings dropped, his head turning uncharacteristically frantically from side to side only to now find you across the street. You gave a small wave with just your finger tips with a small gloating laugh before running down and into the winding streets of Velaris. Azriel moved to follow you only to crash right into Lucien.
“Are you never not in my way?!” Azriel couldn't help but bark at the emissary.
“Hello Azriel, how are you? I'm good thanks for asking? Yes I do forgive you for walking into me, of course I-”
“Just leave it” Azriel signed, ducking around him to run to cross the street. It was no good, you were gone he thought, but how? And who?
*************
“Az stop pacing, you're not helping the hangover” Cassian ran his hands down his green tinged face, regretting going as hard as he had the night previous. Lucien giving a small laugh to the Illyrian, picking himself up from the sofa to head to the kitchen for tea.
“I have no idea who she was and that's my job. How could I not know who she was?”
“I'm not sure Az but Cass is right, please sit down, you're giving us all motion sickness” Rhysand joined the group in the sitting room of the town house, a soothing tincture for Feyre in his hands. She smiled up lovingly at her mates gesture, more pangs of jealousy passed through Azriel.
“Let me see into your mind Az, I'll draw her, maybe one of us knows her” Azriel weighed up Feyres offer. He hated letting them behind his shields but he needed to know who you were. He thought of your face in the candle light again, did he want to share you with the world? He weighed up the options before agreeing, Mor having already retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil for Feyre.
The group gathered around the sketch of you freshly drawn. One by one group shook their heads, unsure of the Fae in front of them, sending Azriels heart sinking again.
Lucien strolled back into the sitting room, tea tray in hand. The crash of the tray had the group's startled reaction landing on the Emissary.
“Oh my Gods seriously! My head” Cassian groaned, covering his face with a throw pillow. Lucien took almost erratic steps over the broken china towards the drawing, snatching it from the knee height table and gathering it into his chest. The group now entirely addled by his reaction.
“Lucien?” Feyre was the first to break the quizzical silence.
“Nothing! This is no one!” Lucien's skillful way with words was now long gone.
“Who is that?” Rhysand and Azriel almost asked in unison.
“It's no one I said! Leave it! I have to go, sorry for the mess!” He darted for the hallway, Azriel hot on his heels.
“Lucien, who is that? What do you know?” The Shadowsingers sharp tone tried to stop Lucien in his tracks.
“It's no one, you didn't see her, forget it, stay away from her”
“Which is it, stay away from her or I didn't see her?” this silenced the Prince of Foxes.
“I have to go!” His panicked tone was betraying him. Azriel went to catch him harshly, Lucien winnowing out avoiding capture leaving Azriel once again confused and alone
*****************
Part Two
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel fic#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#sarah j maas#fanfic#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#rhysand#feyre archeron
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i have been thinking about this for a while and i love how you write, so what do you think of biker!könig with a gf that studies in uni? how did they meet? does he get jealous easily of her classmates? what is the aftermath of his jealousy (😏)?
thank you so much 🩷
-🌵
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fem (afab) reader, suggestive, but mostly just two sillies attempting to flirt.
They first cross paths at a gas station. Sundown and desolate apart from the woman who approaches the tiny shop on foot whilst he straddles his bike at the pump.
She doesn’t notice him, and that’s just fine. More often than not, people do but for the wrong reasons. It’s always the height or the face only his mother could love. This is a good thing, shows she’s not hasty with her judgment, shows she’s just unaware enough to let something like him in.
It’s stupid, completely ridiculous at how he feels his heart thump to life, ribcage squeezing and stomach a whirl with butterflies at the mere sight. The furthest thing from love comes to mind at the sight: plush thighs peeking out against the hem of shorts that cut off just below her bum, the tight tanktop that displays her cleavage in a way so enticing. But that’s what he immediately thinks of, that word that seems foreign to him even in his mother tongue.
Love.
König could be a gentleman, lie her down in his bed instead of fucking her over the bike, if she were kind enough to follow him home. That offer feels heavy as lead on his tongue, lost someplace in his throat when he really gets a good view of her.
He’s never been good with talking to women, anyway. Especially not an angel so far out of his league she would surely only scoff with her sweet drink in hand, turn away from him with her nose held high and dark circles under her eyes as she suffers through another paper back at her dorm or wherever she came from.
So, he leaves her be as much as he can and should, only watches her with his helmet in place and that dark visor masking where his eyes wander from her face down to the retreating view of her legs as she walks.
The next time time is during the rain.
König is good at refraining from acting on base instinct. There’s a lot to consider before stealing away some miserable dove on the sidewalk, the light drizzle from above soaking into her dress and battering her lashes as she sits and waits for a ride that just doesn’t seem to be coming. He’s got his military background, keeps his house tidy and rarely muddles in the affairs of other people.
It’s just that she’s cold.
He tells himself that the only reason he stops his bike some meters away is because she will get sick if he doesn’t offer her a ride. He’s just being a gentleman. There’s nothing more to it.
So he does. Keeps his helmet on and masks his face as well as the weird excitement and nervousness in his voice when the muffled offer taints the wet air.
It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t have never considered any of this if she weren’t so cute. If she didn’t look so fragile and sweet. She smiles and nods immediately, fusses with her dress a bit when she climbs onto the bike behind him when she tells him that she’s only just been on a date. It just hadn’t turned out well and whoever the bastard had been had dipped before even the entree was served.
It sends his mind spiraling when it shouldn’t.
It’s deranged to think of her misfortune as fate when it isn’t.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know where to put my hands,” she laughs someplace against his shoulder, chin just slightly tilted up to bump his damp t-shirt. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard, not mocking at all, only shy.
“Around me.”
He sounds like an old pervert, feels just like one when he takes her hands into his own and guides them around his middle. Presses in a bit too tight, because it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman so close and it feels good to be held like this.
She makes some quiet noise, a soft gasp, then presses her face into the darkness of his shirt to hide away from the rain or maybe…
“You can come home with me. It’s close.”
She laughs again, and he’s reminded of just how little tact that he has with the fairer sex. She must think him an idiot, some hopeful vigilante that scoops women up from the street after nightmare dates with bad food or bad dick. It sounds so stupid to his own ears, he knows he’s burning crimson beneath the black helmet.
Until she squeezes him a bit, gives what must be her best attempt at a hug from their positioning. Again, too, maybe out of surprise that there’s muscle there. Something a woman like her might like.
“I’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” and then “You seem a lot nicer than he was, anyway.”
The air gets stolen from his lungs and his jaw grows loose. She had only told him yes to maybe sitting on his couch, watching some miserable war film until he brought her back to her academic wasteland, but not a part of him had expected that.
It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn’t said a word, that he’s sat panting like some stay being offered a meaty bone. He takes a moment to reposition her grip around him, too ashamed of the way his cock springs to life at her closeness and the ridiculous fantasy playing out in his head.
“Right… you can dry off there.”
He doesn’t immediately remove the helmet when she steps into his abode, just guides her over to the washroom when she asks if he would mind if she used his shower and lets her be. That room has never known a woman’s touch, and the shirt he gives her to change into isn’t comparable to the cute, floral thing she was wearing.
He takes her dress to the dryer to distract himself from the fact that she’s naked in there, just a flimsy door away. Changes out of his own sopping wet clothes after considering that maybe she would want to touch him again. Maybe it felt nice for her too, just to hold someone. He could hold her too, if she wanted that, bring her right to his bed and keep her safe and warm.
“You’re out of conditioner,” she peeps as she steps back out of the bathroom. “Just thought you would want to…”
Her eyes trail over him for a time as her words taper off to nothing. Then, they’re locked to his face and any hope goes up in an inferno. The scars are probably scary, the dark circles from weeks of minimal sleep are probably even worse. She probably thinks him some sort of monster or a demon, something no girl should be left alone with.
Then, she smiles.
“Wow…”
“What…?”
He expects the worst and instinctively casts a sideways glance toward the helmet sat by the door. The perfect covering to avoid situations like this. It’s not that he’s dependent on it, but… maybe he would have had some sort of chance had he not taken it off.
“I’m sorry for staring, you’re just really…”
Ugly. Scary. Whatever words she’s considering, he doesn’t care to hear them. She could just ask to go home, save herself some fear and save him from another rejection.
“… cute.”
“Okay.”
Scheisse.
That wasn’t a “thank you” or anything of substance, but this is more mortifying than anything prior. Even the women who had pitied him with a date before had never called him something so endearing, never likened him to some adorable little thing or stared up at him like she does now. She only seems giddy, a fire burning behind her eyes like she’s just discovered some secret treasure.
“… cuter than your date?,” he hazards, rolls his shoulders and tilts his head at her. His attempt at sounding confident only comes across bitter and jealous. Maybe he is, but that fucker blew his chance, and she’s blessing König with far too many.
“Definitely.”
The tension feels tangible, despite the absurdity of all of this. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say or how long to take between breaths.
She’s stood there in his shirt, looking as if she’s already his and he’s the one left feeling ashamed and embarrassed.
“I think you’re pretty.”
“Yeah?”
“Ever since I first saw you, I…” He’s babbling too much, losing any composure because she just keeps her eyes trained on him, that adorable smile curling at her lips. If he sounded creepy, like he’s been following her, she doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Maybe you could take me on a date sometime,” she suggests, her voice coming as a breathy little whisper. Maybe she is shy, but she’s giving him the OK to push and prod and see just how far he can go, to expend all of his luck on this very night.
The rain outside only grows louder, threatening to cut the power and leave this docile angel in some dark pit with a mad king. He wishes it would, it grows harder to keep the prominent excitement in his crotch concealed the more that she talks and bats her eyelashes at him.
Being over-eager was a turn-off, right? He weighs his next words the best he can, considers playing it safe for just half a moment before they escape him anyway.
“Come here.”
There’s a darker storm brewing in his eyes when she takes those first, fragile steps toward him. But she graces him with the light of a spark when her hand finds his chest and presses there, feels his heart beating like it’s a normal thing to search for, like she’s just as mesmerized and surprised as she is now.
She’s snared in an instant with a face buried into her damp hair, lifted up with her legs guided to wrap around his waist. A decade worth of luck spent just like that, but he’s always been greedy.
The demand for more comes with a callused hand guiding her chin up. Her lips part immediately, eyelashes fluttering until they rest atop her cheeks, already warmed with the anticipation of what’s to come. His kissing begins gentle, soft for a second as he tries to memorize the plushness and curvature of her lips with his mouth alone.
Then, it’s only punishing.
He tries to hold himself back, but knowing he could have had this weeks ago while she was wandering about barely dressed drives him insane. The moment she gasps against his mouth, his tongue slips inside to find hers, rolls over it with such a ferocity that the corner of her mouth begins to glisten with their shared drool. She whines, then moans as her hands curl over his neck, petting at the short hair at the base of his skull.
His hands fall to her ass to keep her in place, gives her a pinch and then a grope when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at all.
And that’s where the well must have run dry, because she tilts her face away with a series of soft pants, squeezes her trembling thighs around him as if to make a silent demand to stop, or maybe not. Everything she does makes him feel both hot and crazy; she doesn’t even attempt to wind out of his grip here, only looks up at him sultry and helpless. She must be wet, he can smell it, practically taste her already, but he doesn’t persist when she halts this dance.
“Wait… waitwait. I don’t even know your name.”
“König.”
She laughs breathlessly, then dips her head to press against his shoulder. His hand immediately rises to pet at her hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers as she tells him her name in turn.
“I don’t really want this to just be… one night, you know?,” she says, and that intrigues him.
“That so..?”
“Mhm…”
He slowly lowers her back down until her feet meet the carpeted floor, then takes her face into both hands while she gives him a cute pout. He could be sympathetic, could make her love him even… she’s left the door open for him already, after all.
“I could just hold you,” he mutters, tracing a circle into her cheek, savoring in the way her eyes seem to light up at that.
“I would like that.”
#könig x reader#konig x reader#being gifted this ask after that one anon put the thought in my head to begin with? you all are a godsend actually
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Hellooo~ may I know if you will make a part 2 for your story 'Their First Love'?
Their First Love Pt. 2 [Natasha]
Summary : The talk Natasha has been looking for, to apologize and to finally talk to you
Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader
Warningv: Crying
Word Count : 2,876
{THEIR FIRST LOVE PT. 1}
No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know
It's been weeks since you two broke up—well, not actually since you two aren't a couple—let's just say “since she busted you,” and it still bothers you.
Did you accept her decision? Yes, and you respect it, but did you move on or stop wondering about things? No, definitely not. The thoughts and questions keep you awake every night and mostly distract you from your work.
You kept asking yourself why she chose him. Am I not enough? Or am I doing too much that drives her away? Is there something wrong with me? Or maybe I did something wrong?
The questions keep coming, but there's only one that's imprinted in your head, and it never leaves your mind since you realize it. It's her hair.
You once asked her, "Why do you keep your hair red? You're a spy; you should be undercover, not seen.” At that time, all she said to me was, “Because I wanted my loved ones to always locate me and remember me in the event that they did forget me or split up with me, as winter always follows autumn.
That's when you realize that you're not hers; Bucky is and will always be the winter that always follows Autumn, and you feel such a fool believing that you could replace or at least be enough to be at Bucky's level in her heart.
But at least you try and come close, or at least you thought, but the thing is, what matters is what makes her happy, and she is happy with him; that is what matters to you, right?
“Hey, hey, earth, to Y/N, are you there? ”You snap out of your thoughts when Jess taps your right check, so you look at her with a confused look.
“What? ....sorry what were you saying? ”You asked, gathering yourself and coughing to cover your embarrassment in front of Jess.
“I said, get back to her.” You frown at her, and she giggles, laying her upper body on the couch back while you're in your swivel chair and big table in your office.
“I don't get it,” you mumble, enough for her to hear, and she shakes her head and rolls her eyes with an amusing smile, then puts her iced coffee down.
“Oh my god, Y/N, you're so easy to read, or at least on my side... You're thinking, and I know it involves ‘Natasha’ so just pick up your phone, dial her number and call her, or text her,” Jess said, throwing you your phone. She's been playing some games. You thankfully catch it because if you didn't, hell, you're going to kill Jess if that happens.
“No, she chose him, Jess, not me, so I’m not going to call or text her like a puppy hot on her tail.” You put your phone in your pocket, standing up, seeing it's already 10 and the wedding will start in an hour, and you can't be late.
“Now shut up, and we need to go because we will be late,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes at you, but reciprocates and follows down the garage, getting in your own car, and so does she, and starts the 40-minute drive to the venue.
On the other side, Natasha has been sulking in her bed for weeks now; she has no energy to do anything, and the only thing that keeps her away from bed is going to the bathroom, bar, or club. Other than that, she's locked up in her room; even Bucky can't even enter.
Since Natasha saw you that day, she can't help but stalk you. When you go to a cafe with her, when you go shopping with her, when you stroll with her, everywhere you go, she's there, getting jealous and feeling regret seeing you with her, and she wishes it was her who's by your side at those moments and not her until she saw you with her at the jewelry shop and decided to approach you or just eavesdrop.
But once she came close, she stopped dead in her tracks. Hearing those words coming out of your mouth, “This is perfect for a wedding band," she quickly turned around and left the mall. You're buying a wedding band with her; were you getting married with her that fast? She questions herself when she locks herself in her room, crying.
And Bucky heard her crying, and since then, he's been worrying about Nat. As much as he wants to help her and be by her side, he knows forcing her to do something or just go against her will be no better for the both of them, so he constantly knocks on her door, asking if she's okay, even asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. about her, leaving food and a note in front of her door.
But today, he had enough, and he knows the only person who can help Natasha, so he's on his way to have a little talk with you.
And when he gets the information that you're on your way to the wedding, he quickly flies off, overspeeding, and goes to a different route to catch up with you, and when he does, he quickly drifts to block your car with his
But you almost hit him if you didn't hit the break quickly. You scoff and get out of the car when you see Bucky getting out of his car.
“Long time, no see, Mr. Barnes,” you sass at him, folding your arm in front of you and letting him approach you.
“You need to come with me,” he's in his stoic expression, and he proceeds to grab your arm, but you back away and swat his hand, and that's when Jess got to you, worried in her eyes.
“Oh my god, hey, watch where you're going; you can't just stop people like that,” Jess shouts at him, but you stop her with your hand when she's going to attack him.
“Get in your car and go to the venue; I’ll be there in a few.” She wanted to argue, but you glared at her, so she nodded.
“Be careful.” With that, she drives off, leaving you and Bucky alone on the side of the road, and thankfully, there's not much of a car passing by.
“What do you need, Barnes? ”You stand tall, seeing him searching for the right word.
“I—you need to come with me; I wanted to show you something,” he said calmly, but you raised your one eyebrow at him.
“And why would I need to come with you? I barely know you; I don't know your intention; you could kill me or something if I come with you.” Bucky sighs, closing his eyes, then looks back at you, and you see the desperation in his eyes.
“If you're that desperate for me to come with you, why not tell me the reason? Cause I have somewhere to be.” Bucky is annoyed, yes, but he stays calm for Natasha's sake.
“It's Nat; she needs you. I know it sounds crazy, but you're the one she wants, the one she loved and still loves. She needs you, Y/N.” You stay motionless and emotionless; you just scoff at him and roll your eyes at him.
“That's funny, Barnes; she doesn't need me; she has you; you're the one she loves, not me; she chose you. Remember? ”You unfold your arms and take a step towards him, and you give him a sarcastic smile.
“You won Barnes; she's all yours, so whatever shit what's happening to the both of you, I don't care, so don't drag me into your shits,” you said, and you turned around to your car so you could arrive at the wedding just in time, but before you could reach your car handle, he took your arm and turned you around.
“She really needs you, ok... Yes, maybe I’m the one she chose before, but that doesn't mean I still have her heart.” Bucky sighs, not wanting to be the one saying this to you, but he guesses he doesn't have any choice.
“Natasha suffers enough; she gets confused when it comes to these feelings, making her go back and choose the things she’s familiar with, meaning getting back to me. She longs for the short times she has before, where our love gets ripped away by the organization we're in, making her choose the wrong decision.” It hurts him to admit that the love of his life doesn't love her anymore, but he knows that seeing her happy in your arms is better than seeing her forcing herself to be happy with him.
“She loves you so much, Y/N. She may have confused her emotions, but her love for you is already carved in her heart.” Then suddenly his phone vibrated, and seeing that it's an emergency mission, he smiled at you and reached for his back pocket.
“She’s you're Y/N; she always had been.” Then he took your hand and put the key in it.
"It's her key…..she really needs you.” He gives you a small, sad smile, then turns around and gets in his car, then drives off.
“You just roll your eyes and get in your car, hooking the key he gave you in the rearview mirror, and drive off.
Natasha sighs and sits up on the bed, realizing that sulking, being lazy, and sleeping with strangers will get her nowhere, so she stands up and takes a shower, leaving the man still sleeping on her bed. He was supposed to leave hours ago, but Natasha doesn't know what happened to her when she let him sleep here on her bed. All she knows is that his hold feels like your arms, or maybe she just thought about it.
Showers were taken longer than they usually are, but she did have a decent shower and change into fresh, comfy clothes, a loose shirt, and sweatpants, putting on a little makeup so her face wasn't as pale as it looked, and that's when she heard a knock on her door, so she groans and goes out of the bathroom, seeing the man in her bed is already awake.
“Go get dressed and get outta here,” she said, emotionless, and another knock again.
“I’m ok, Bucky, you don't have.” She stopped when the person knocked, got in, and looked around until her eyes landed on Natasha and the man who's getting dressed.
And Natasha is shocked to see the one person she least expects to knock on her door and come in, but when she pinches her arm and it hurts, she knows it's real. It's you, standing in your white, above-the-knee-fitted formal dress.
Her heart fluttered, and the butterflies were dancing around her stomach. Her joy was on top of the mountain. She saw you again, and you're the one who came to her.
"Guess, I came here for nothing. Sorry for interrupting. Have a good day.” With that, you quickly shut the door shut, scoffing at yourself, thinking you shouldn't have listened to Bucky.
On the other hand, Natasha was confused, but when she realized what was happening, she quickly looked at the man who's putting his pants on and looked at herself in the mirror, a hickey on her neck and wet hair.
“Shit shit shit,” she cursed and quickly ran behind you to explain.
"Y/N, wait, please, let me explain.” She then took your arm, stopping you and turning you around.
“Explain to me that you're doing fine and fucking other people because you and Bucky didn't work out? Don't worry, I get it. I shouldn't have listened to your ex. Now I have wasted my time. I should probably go so you two can continue and I can catch up to the wedding. Have a good day, okay? ”Natasha was confused, and she didn't catch up with what you said, and whatever was on her mind was only Bucky, listen, continue, and Wedding, ‘Were you marrying her today? ’
“Wait what? No, no, no, wait, hold on,” she said, then again stopped you and blocked your way to the elevator.
"First, what Bucky told you; second, that man meant nothing, I swear; and third, the wedding? At what wedding were you getting married? Now? With her? ”You roll your eyes at her, then the man gets out of her room and walks past you two, and he kisses her on the head, making Natasha cringe and try to pat off the kiss he gave her.
“Last night was amazing; maybe we could go out sometimes.” This makes Natasha feel disgusted, and of course you heard it, so you roll your eyes and go around Natasha.
“Get a room, for god sake,” you say, then stand tall, waiting for the elevator after you press down.
“You're just jealous,” he spat back, and Natasha slapped him hard.
“Trust me, I’m not, and please make sure your dick is properly placed in those pants, and please wear underwear for god sake.” Then Natasha pushed him to the stairs, just to get him out of here.
“Leave now or else,” she said with gritted teeth, motioning her thumb from her left neck to her right, and he gulped, knowing she's capable of killing him without hesitation, and that's when the elevator door opened with a ding.
"Well, nice seeing you.” You enter the elevator, and Natasha quickly stops the elevator door and gets in. She was supposed to drag you out so you two could properly talk, but the door closed before she could walk out with you.
“Ok, ok,” Natasha sighs, and she turns around to look at you, where she finds you looking down on your phone, texting someone.
"Hey,” she tried to get your attention, but you didn't budge, so she took your phone and turned it off.
“What! ”You sigh with annoyance, looking up at her.
“Can you listen to me, please? ”Natasha begs, and you pinch the bridge of your nose and press the open door button, but Natasha unpresses it and stops the elevator, putting it into emergency
“You listen whether you like it or not.” You then press your back against the wall. Not much of a choice, you just stayed silent, your hand inside your pocket.
“Thank you,” Natasha then sighs, getting nervous, and this is not what she imagines getting nervous for the first time.
“Ok, first, I’ll tell the truth. Yes, we had sex last night, and yes, he slept the night in my room, and yes, I’ve slept with a couple strangers the past few days or weeks, but I swear it means nothing.” You then cross your arm in front and look at her in the eyes; that made her feel so small.
“It's a one-night stand, nothing else, and for Bucky, well, he broke up with me. Why? Well, he said that my heart doesn't belong to him anymore; it belongs to someone; that someone's you, and he's right.” Natasha wants to take your hand, but it's hidden, so she rests her right hand on your arm.
“When he left, that's when I realized that I want you, that I love you, that when I’m looking for the future, you're there, you're always on my plan, on my dreams in every single one of them, and I also realized that I was being unfair to you when I just dropped you out and to Bucky when I’m still clinging to my past, where I’m too familiar and afraid to enter something new again, something I’m not familiar with, something I’m not good at, and I’m sorry for that.” tears running down her cheeks while she bites her bottom lips to suppress her subs, then she kneels before you, clinging to your right leg.
“Please forgive me. I-I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.” Natasha can't help but sob and cry on your thigh.
“Please believe me, I tried to contact you, or... or co-come see you... I tried.” Natasha keeps repeating the same word over and over again.
“Get up,” but Natasha didn't; her knees were weak.
"Romanoff, get the fuck up; you're making yourself look foolish.” You nudge her gently, but she shakes her head.
“Forgive me, please forgive me, please come back.” You sigh and palm your forehead, careful not to ruin your makeup.
“I don't know, Ok, I am moving forward, so, I don't know it, Romanoff, so get up and fix yourself; I need to go and catch up on a wedding.” Then you simply get away from her and pull off the emergency button and help Natasha on her feet, then wipe her tear with your handkerchief, making Natasha lean on your touch.
“I’ll contact you,” you whisper, and then the door opens, so you exit the elevator, go out to take your car, and drive to the venue.
As much as you want to be hard and cold to Natasha, there's always part of you that makes you weaker around her; she always makes your guard down and makes you vulnerable; you feel safe around her, the feeling you've been craving since you were little, and it took every willpower you have to be tough and cold-hearted towards her.
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanova#natasha x reader#natasha x you#natalia alianovna romanova#marvel black widow#black widow 2021#black widow#natalia romanova#natasha x y/n#natasha alianovna romanova#natasha marvel#natasha#natasha romanov#mcu marvel avengers#marvel mcu#mcu
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I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.
You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.
However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.
But enough is enough.
You need to leave. Fast.
One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.
All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.
He can make it up to you. He can and he will.
He promises.
You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.
The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.
His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.
He must find you.
Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.
You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.
You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.
No one is following you.
One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.
How neat.
Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.
You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.
Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.
Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.
Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.
Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.
He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.
Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.
Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?
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(Since you were asking for a thirst HAHDNDJDNDSN)
My man (Fukuzawa) has few smut here in tumblr, he needs justice.
And I needed to be manhandled by that fine dilf.
— 🌊🪷
crucible // fukuzawa yukichi
tw ⇢ jealous!fukuzawa, possessive!fukuzawa, so much sexual tension, fukuzawa in denial, making out, teasing, office sex, sir kink cx its fukuzawa, rough sex, manhandling ofc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, spanking
wc ⇢ 5.2k
a/n: anon, you just reawakened my love for fictional characters nearly twice my age
The oppressive August heat blanketed Yokohama, the air heavy and thick, clinging to your skin like a damp cloth. In the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the ancient air conditioner wheezed and rattled, providing little relief from the sweltering temperatures. Beads of sweat gathered at your brow and trickled down the back of your neck as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the stack of case files in front of you.
But your mind kept drifting, your thoughts inevitably drawn to the Agency's distinguished leader, Yukichi Fukuzawa. From the moment you'd started working here, you'd been captivated by him - his sophisticated air, his commanding presence, the way his steely gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was more than just physical attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him, an aura of power and control, that drew you like a moth to a flame.
You knew it was risky, knew that getting involved with your boss was a recipe for disaster. But you couldn't help yourself. Every interaction with him left you wanting more, your skin buzzing with a kind of electric anticipation.
It started small, innocently enough. A smile that lingered just a beat too long, a brush of fingers as you handed him a file. But as the months went by, you grew bolder, more overt in your flirtations.
Each morning, you greeted Fukuzawa with a smile that bordered on coy, your voice low and honeyed. "Good morning, sir," you'd purr, leaning in just a little too close as you handed him his daily schedule. The subtle widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, was all the encouragement you needed.
You started putting more effort into your appearance, choosing blouses that hugged your curves, skirts that fell just an inch shorter than was strictly professional. You told yourself it wasn't for him, that you just wanted to feel good about yourself. But deep down, you knew the truth. You wanted him to notice you, to feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.
And notice he did. You'd catch him watching you as you moved around the office, his eyes following the sway of your hips, lingering on the exposed slice of skin at your throat. His face would remain impassive, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would tighten around his pen.
It became a kind of game, a forbidden dance of push and pull. You'd lean over his desk to point out a detail in a report, letting your blouse gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. You'd brush past him in the hallway, your hand grazing his arm, letting the contact linger a moment longer than necessary.
Each small victory sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of power. You were getting to him, chipping away at that legendary self-control. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.
But it wasn't enough. The more you got, the more you wanted. Stolen glances and fleeting touches only fanned the flames of your desire, leaving you aching and restless. You found yourself daydreaming during the long, humid afternoons, your mind conjuring up vivid fantasies of Fukuzawa's hands on your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin. You'd imagine him bending you over his desk, his fingers digging into your hips as he finally fucked you, claiming you as his own.
The fantasies were so real, so visceral, that you'd often snap out of them flushed and breathless, your heart racing and your pussy throbbing with need. You'd clench your thighs together, trying to quell the ache, but it was never enough. You wanted him, needed him, with an intensity that frightened and exhilarated you in equal measure.
And so, you started pushing harder, growing bolder in your advances. Determined to shatter his iron self-control, to make him admit that he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.
You began openly flirting with the other men in the office, particularly Atsushi, the youngest and most naive of the bunch. You'd perch on the edge of his desk, leaning in close as you pointed out details in case files, letting your breasts brush against his arm. You'd laugh just a little too loudly at his jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder and fixing him with a dazzling smile.
And all the while, you'd feel Fukuzawa's gaze burning into your back, his eyes tracking your every move. You'd see his jaw clench, his fist tighten at his side, and a dark thrill would course through you. He was jealous, you could tell. The knowledge was intoxicating.
Late one sweltering evening, as you were leaving the office, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa's hand close around your wrist. Before you could respond, he was guiding you into his office and shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced at his proximity, the air practically crackling between you.
"Your behavior has been quite inappropriate," he said in a low voice, his eyes boring into yours. "If you continue this way, there will be consequences."
His gaze drifted to your lips and for a wild, breathless moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you. But then he released you and took a measured step back, leaving you dizzy and aching for more.
In the days that followed, the memory of that charged moment in Fukuzawa's office lingered, a constant distraction. Your skin prickled with awareness whenever he was near, your body attuned to his presence like a tuning fork. You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept conjuring up the phantom sensation of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the heat of his gaze on your mouth.
You dialed back on your flirtations with the other men, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop teasing Fukuzawa. If anything, you became bolder, more overt in your intentions. You started staying late at the office, finding excuses to be alone with him. In the evenings, when the rest of the staff had gone home, you'd slip into his office with flimsy pretexts, perching on the edge of his desk and leaning in close as you spoke.
During one such encounter, emboldened by the late hour and the intimacy of the dimly lit room, you placed your hand over his as you pointed out a detail in a case file. Fukuzawa stilled, his eyes flickering to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand over beneath yours, his palm hot against your own.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, before he drew away.
You knew he was right, knew that you were both wading into treacherous waters. But you were too far gone to turn back now, too intoxicated by the simmering tension that coiled between you.
As the summer heat rose, so did the stakes of your forbidden dance. Stolen glances turned into fleeting caresses, plausible deniability becoming paper-thin. The air grew heavy with unspoken desire, with the tantalizing promise of what could be.
And then, one storm-dark night, the levee finally broke.
You were working late again, poring over witness statements, when the power suddenly cut out. The office was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside the rain-lashed windows. You heard Fukuzawa's office door open, heard his measured footsteps approaching.
"The whole block is out," he said, his tall silhouette appearing in your doorway. "We might as well call it a night."
You nodded, your tongue suddenly feeling too thick for your mouth. A strange anticipation crackled through you as you gathered your things by feel, every nerve ending alight. You startled when you felt Fukuzawa's hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the pitch-black hallway.
In the darkness, every sensation was magnified. The sound of your breathing, the warm press of his palm against your spine, the electric awareness of his body mere inches from yours. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were certain he must hear it.
And then, between one step and the next, Fukuzawa halted. His hand slid slowly up your back, his fingers curling around your nape. You turned to face him, dizzy with want, scarcely daring to breathe.
For a long, suspended moment, you hovered there in the charged darkness. The air felt thick, weighted with expectation. You could just make out the gleam of Fukuzawa's eyes, could feel the tension emanating from him in waves.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough as gravel, "and I will."
But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to finally unleash the pent-up hunger that had been consuming you for months. Throwing caution to the wind, you closed the last breath of distance between you and captured his lips with your own...
Heart pounding, you melted into Fukuzawa's embrace, your lips moving feverishly against his. His mouth was hot and insistent, his strong hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the wall. You gasped as your back hit the cool surface, the contrast with your overheated skin sending sparks rushing through you.
Fukuzawa took advantage of your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a low groan that reverberated through your body. You clung to his broad shoulders, dizzy with sensation, your head spinning with the headiness of finally, finally having him exactly where you'd wanted him for so long.
His hands roamed your curves possessively, setting you alight even through the barrier of your clothing. His hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh. Dimly, you registered the rasp of his stubble against your skin, the throaty sounds of desire he made as he kissed you senseless. It was better than anything you had imagined, the reality of him overwhelming your every sense.
Lost in a haze of lust, it took you a moment to realize that Fukuzawa had suddenly stilled. His lips broke away from yours and he drew back slightly, his breath coming harsh and fast. Confusion cut through the fog of your arousal as he grasped your shoulders and gently but firmly set you away from him.
"We can't do this," he said, his voice strained. Even in the darkness, you could see the conflict etched on his face. "It's not right."
"What?" you managed, your kiss-bruised lips still tingling, your body thrumming with need. "But I thought-"
"This is a mistake," Fukuzawa cut you off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm your superior. I have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries. No matter how much I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This ends now, before it goes any further."
You felt like he'd doused you in ice water, shock and hurt warring within you. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears.
Fukuzawa exhaled heavily, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. It won't happen again."
And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving you alone in the dark hallway, your lips still swollen from his kisses, your heart in shreds at your feet. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the muggy heat.
The storm raged on outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind rattling the panes. But it was nothing compared to the tempest inside you - a maelstrom of frustration, rejection, and an ache so sharp it stole your breath.
How were you supposed to face him after this, knowing how good it could be between you, only to have it snatched away? How could you just forget the searing press of his mouth, the urgency of his touch?
Somehow, you'd have to find a way to lock down your treacherous heart, to bury your desire so deep that even you couldn't feel it anymore. The alternative - pining for a man you couldn't have, burning for his forbidden touch - was unthinkable.
But as you finally turned to leave, your legs unsteady beneath you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. That the undeniable pull between you and Fukuzawa was too powerful to be extinguished by duty or propriety.
One way or another, you knew you'd end up back in his arms. It was only a matter of time.
In the days following your heated encounter with Fukuzawa in the darkened office, you couldn't stop thinking about the electrifying feel of his lips on yours, the urgent press of his body against your own. The memory seared through you at the most inopportune moments, leaving you aching and distracted.
Though a part of you knew you should heed Fukuzawa's words and maintain a professional distance, you found yourself incapable of letting go. If anything, his rejection only fanned the flames of your desire, your need to prove yourself irresistible. You became utterly determined to shatter his iron self-control.
You began putting extra effort into your appearance each morning, choosing outfits that clung to your curves, leaving tantalizing slices of skin bare. You made sure to bend over just so when placing documents on his desk, relishing the way his eyes would follow the lines of your body before he caught himself.
In meetings, you started openly staring at him, your gaze heated and unwavering. You'd trace your lower lip with the tip of your pen, gratified to see his eyes dart to your mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on his pen. Under the guise of friendly touches, you'd graze your fingers along his arm or shoulder, feeling the way he'd tense at the contact.
But you didn't limit your newfound boldness to Fukuzawa. You dialed your flirtations up with all the men in the office. You'd perch on the edge of their desks, crossing your legs so your skirt rode up just a little too high. You'd casually touch their hands or face while laughing at their jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder coquettishly.
All the while, you could feel the weight of Fukuzawa's stare boring into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a potent mix of disapproval and barely suppressed jealousy. You reveled in his attention, positive reinforcement for your provocative behavior.
Late one night, as you were once again working overtime, you decided to up the ante. Slipping out of your heels, you padded silently to Fukuzawa's office, easing the door open without knocking. He glanced up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes widening when he saw you leaning against the door frame.
You smiled, slow and feline, stalking towards Fukuzawa's desk with deliberate sways of your hips. Each step seemed to echo in the charged silence of the dimly lit office. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire and anticipation. You could feel Fukuzawa's gaze on you, tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle with heat.
As you reached his desk, you placed your palms flat on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. The action caused your blouse to gape open just a little, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. You heard Fukuzawa's sharp intake of breath, saw his eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before he wrenched them back up to your face.
"What are you doing here so late?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
"I thought you could use some company," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "And I had a few...questions about the case."
Fukuzawa's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk, curled into fists as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. "It's late," he said, his tone carefully measured, but you could hear the undercurrent of strain beneath the words. "Any questions can wait until morning."
Undeterred by his dismissal, you circled around the desk, trailing your fingertips along the smooth surface. Fukuzawa watched you warily, his body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. When you reached his side, you perched yourself on the edge of the desk, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. The hem of your skirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of thigh, the lacy edge of your stockings just peeking out.
Fukuzawa's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed hunger. His hands clenched on the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking under the force of his grip. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the air between your bodies crackling with electricity.
Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in closer, placing your hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "But I want your input now, boss," you breathed, your lips just inches from his ear. "I'm sure we can find a way to...stimulate some insights."
For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the ragged tempo of your breathing, the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. Fukuzawa seemed frozen, torn between the compulsion to maintain his professionalism and the undeniable pull of his desire. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes, the desperate struggle for control.
Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, Fukuzawa surged to his feet. His chair clattered backwards, forgotten, as he gripped you by the upper arms, hauling you up with him. Before you could even gasp, he had spun you around, pressing you up against the wall with the solid heat of his body.
Your breath left you in a rush as your back hit the hard surface, your chest heaving against his. Fukuzawa's hands slid down to your wrists, pinning them beside your head as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes were wild, almost black in the low light, boring into you with an intensity that made you tremble.
"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly with barely leashed hunger. "You're determined to drive me to madness."
Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but it dissolved into a soft moan as Fukuzawa ducked his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. A shudder rippled through you at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly. You arched into him instinctively, craving more, desperate for the feel of his hands, his lips on your body.
"I only want to drive you to honesty," you managed to gasp out, your fingers threading through his silver hair, holding him to you. "Admit it - you want me as badly as I want you."
Fukuzawa groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating through you like a tuning fork. His grip on your wrists tightened reflexively as he fought for control, his breath coming in harsh pants against your skin. "We shouldn't," he ground out, even as his hips pressed more insistently into yours, betraying the depth of his need. "It's wrong. But..."
You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. "But what?" you prompted breathlessly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.
Fukuzawa raised his head, his eyes locking with yours. In their depths, you saw the last vestiges of his resistance crumble, the iron bands of his control shattering like spun glass. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, weighted with promise and dark, delicious threat.
"But...I can no longer stand by while you openly flaunt yourself at every available man in this office," he growled, his gaze dropping hungrily to your parted lips as if he was resisting the urge to claim them with his own. "No more games, no more teasing. You're mine, and I intend to make sure you never forget it."
You felt a delicious shiver rush through you at his tone - was this the unraveling you had been hoping to provoke? Boldly holding his smoldering stare, you replied, "Is that so? And what’re you going to do to me...Sir?"
A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he seemed to wrestle with his self-restraint. Then, quicker than you could react, his hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back roughly.
"This..." he growled an instant before crushing his mouth against yours in a searing, hungry kiss.
You gasped at the ferocity of his passion, all the built-up tension he had been holding back now pouring into his ardent caresses. Your hands clutched at the front of his kimono as you met his fervor with your own desperate want.
Your fingers fumbled with the fabric as your mouth hungrily moved against his. He groaned into the searing kiss, the vibration sending sparks of need coursing through your veins. You managed to part the fabric enough to rake your nails over his toned chest, relishing in the way his muscles twitched at your touch.
Fukuzawa broke away with a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he gazed at you with molten eyes. "You've tormented me for far too long with your wanton behavior," he murmured, his voice strained with restrained desire. "Did you think I was blind to the way you paraded about, taunting me?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but any retort was swallowed by another kiss. This time he didn't hold back, pinning you firmly against the wall as one calloused hand boldly skimmed over the curve of your hip and thigh, squeezing your ass. You shuddered and arched shamelessly into his touch, silently pleading for him to continue his intoxicating exploration.
He trailed scorching open-mouth kisses along the column of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. "Perhaps now you'll learn there are consequences for playing with fire," Fukuzawa rasped, his husky tone and the roll of his hips against yours making you dizzy with longing.
With your pussy throbbing and breath coming in shallow pants, you sought purchase by clutching at the broad planes of his back. All this time you had been determined to make this unshakable man crack - but now that he had, you were overwhelmed by the force of his smoldering passion. You wanted to drown in it, consequences be damned.
Fukuzawa's normally immaculate appearance was in delicious disarray - his kimono hanging open, hair tousled from your roaming hands. He pinned you with a look that made your insides liquify as his large, calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin of your thighs and lower back.
"Look at the temptress now," he rumbled, his voice husky and laced with want. "So responsive to my touch after batting those pretty lashes at every other man here."
You opened your mouth to respond, but only a breathy whimper escaped as Fukuzawa rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable hardness of his cock. Heat lanced through your cunt at the delicious friction.
"I should have acted on this long ago," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Shown you exactly where your teasing leads..."
His words had you trembling with heady anticipation. You fisted your hands in his kimono, tugging him even closer as your pulse thundered in your ears. "Then show me," you managed to rasp, throwing caution to the wind.
Fukuzawa's intense gaze searched yours for a molten moment before he captured your lips in another searing, demanding kiss. His large hands cradled you almost reverently as he walked you backwards towards the sofa, your sense of surroundings fading until there was only the roaring need between your entwined bodies.
With a resolute tug, your clothing began to peel away, his fiery caresses branding your bare skin as you finally surrendered to the lust that had been simmering for far too long. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of your desire, the office silent save for the mingled sounds of your heated breaths and moans.
The sofa bumped against the back of your legs and you tumbled onto it, gazing up at the imposing man towering over you. Even in this compromising position, Fukuzawa radiated authority, his gaze dark and intent as he drank in the sight of your naked, sprawled form.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his barely leashed control.
You could hardly breathe, your heart pounding as his burning gaze devoured every inch of your exposed flesh. He knelt between your legs and you could only watch, entranced, as his rough hands skimmed slowly over your trembling thighs.
"Such a tempting little vixen, teasing her superior," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "And now she's finally within reach."
He parted your legs further, his thumbs tracing torturous circles on the tender skin of your inner thighs. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens to girls who flaunt themselves."
You shivered as his breath ghosted over your damp folds. The anticipation was torture, the aching need between your legs throbbing with each passing moment. He continued to torture you, peppering kisses all across the taut skin of your inner thighs.
Then, just when you thought you couldn't stand it anymore, Fukuzawa's tongue dragged along your slit. You arched into him with a startled moan, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue delved deeper, slipping right between your soaked folds.
"Oh God," you whimpered, fisting your hands in his silver hair as pleasure coiled within you, winding tighter and tighter.
"That's right," he rumbled against your slick pussy lips. "I want to hear every sound you make."
His words were punctuated by the firm press of his tongue against your clit, sending a bolt of electricity arcing through you. Your head fell back against the sofa, a cry of pleasure escaping as he licked and sucked at the swollen bud.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it was almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, every muscle coiling tight, desperate for release.
Then, just as you were about to cum, Fukuzawa pulled away. You whined in protest, the loss of his hot mouth on your dripping pussy nearly painful.
"Not yet," he said, his voice thick and hoarse with arousal. "I'm not finished with you yet."
With a strength that sent another surge of heat to your core, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pushing the small of your back to arch your ass into the air. Your breath caught as you felt him kneeling behind you, his thick length pressing teasingly against your folds.
"You have no idea how many nights l've imagined doing this to you," Fukuzawa growled, the head of his cock sliding slowly up and down your soaked pussy. "How many times l've had to stop myself from bending you over my desk and fucking you senseless."
You moaned and wriggled against him, desperate for him to fill you. "Please, Yukichi," you gasped, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.
At the sound of his name, he grinned widely, one hand coming up to swiftly slap your rear. "You will address me as 'sir'."
Another, harder, smack had you whimpering, the stinging sensation reverberating through your core. "Yes, Sir," you breathed, fingers baring a white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions.
He teased your folds with his cock, his hand kneading your reddened flesh. "Good girl," he murmured, watching the mushroom head of his cock disappear between your puffy lips.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, he gripped his thick length and guided it to your slick entrance. You moaned as the tip slid into your cunt, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth.
"God, you're tight," he groaned, slowly easing himself deeper.
You gasped as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of being so full, so stretched, was exquisite. You pushed back against him, wanting more.
With a deep groan, Fukuzawa began moving inside you, his thrusts slow and deep. He built a steady rhythm, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours was obscene, echoing in the quiet office. Pleasure coiled tighter within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each thrust.
You could hear him grunting with exertion, the soft, guttural sounds of his pleasure driving you wild. The heat, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by the man who had consumed your every waking thought for months was almost too much to bear.
"Sir. Yukichi…fuck!" You gasped, your words dissolving into incoherence as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you.
He grunted, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say my name again," he growled, his voice strained.
"Yukichi," you moaned, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.
At the sound of his name, he groaned, his cock throbbing within you. He pounded into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.
You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the wave of pleasure cresting inside you.
Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his thumb found your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen nub.
That was all it took. You came with a wail, your walls clamping down on his thick cock. Your vision whited out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, rippling through your entire body.
As you trembled through the aftershocks, Fukuzawa continued to fuck you, his pace erratic, his breathing ragged. He groaned as his cock pulsed within you, spilling his hot release.
He paused for a moment, his weight holding you down before he slowly pulled his hips back, letting his softening cock slip out of your cunt. He hissed softly as he watched his seed slowly seep out of you, unable to resist the urge to use his fingers to push it back where it belonged.
The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the air heavy with the scent of cum and sweat.
You were spent, your body languid and boneless in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Fukuzawa gathered you tenderly into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he settled onto the sofa. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he held you close.
For a long moment, you simply sat there together, catching your breath, your racing hearts gradually slowing. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted with the significance of what had just transpired.
Eventually, Fukuzawa shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring in your ear, "Come home with me."
You pulled back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice despite the seriousness of the question.
Fukuzawa's mouth quirked up at the corner, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. "Probably not," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "But I find myself throwing wisdom to the wind where you're concerned."
You couldn't help but smile at that, a rush of affection and exhilaration coursing through you. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown. But the thought of not taking that leap, of letting this chance slip through your fingers, was unthinkable.
"Well then," you said, your decision made, "lead the way."
Fukuzawa's grin widened, his hand tightening on your hip. "With pleasure."
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Twins Au: The Revelation
Presenting my addition to @pilot-boi's Twins AU. This was a section that they already wrote about but I wanted to turn it into a full piece.
Enjoy!
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There it was again. The faint sting that haunted her since childhood. This time it was on the left side of her face, across her cheekbone. Along with the pain, Yang felt a slight anger build up inside.
Why? Why was she angry?
Was it because of this phantom pain that’s followed her for all these years? Or was this even anger, was it just frustration?
Leaving the Public Relations elective, she chose at the recommendation of Professor Goodwitch and her team, Yang made her away, alongside her partner, Blake Belladonna, to the cafeteria. While it was a useful class, and one that she had openly admitted to needing, one con she faced daily was the journey across the Beacon campus to the lunchroom. Mentally she was praying that Ruby, or their sister team, JNPR had found a place for both teams to enjoy their food.
“-ng. Yang.”
Yang snapped out of a daze she didn’t even realize she was in. She turned and saw Blake with a concerned expression.
“Everything ok?”
“Yeah.” Yang replied, rubbing her cheek. “That stinging pain came back.”
“Ruby mentioned that it’s been with you a while, is it related to your semblance?”
“I doubt it,” Yang sighed, looking forward again. “I’ve felt it even BEFORE dad unlocked my aura. Originally, I thought it was growing pains, but now it HAS to be something else.”
The pair rounded a corner into the main hallway of Beacon. Students were still flowing out of classrooms, signalling to the pair that they still had time before the lunch line closed.
“You might want to consider checking in with Beacon’s aura specialist.” Blake suggested. “Like you said, you had this before you had your aura unlocked. It isn’t that far-fetched to say that those were actual growing pains. This could be something related to your aura or even your semblance.”
“How could this be attached to my semblance?”
“I’d recommend going to the specialist to get a better understanding, but from what I remember, semblances can evolve, by either adding onto or changing how they behave.”
Yang stayed silent, considering that option. It never crossed her mind that it could actually be aura or semblance related. Anytime it was mentioned, it was dismissed due to the pains she felt when she was aura less.
Yang winced again. The pain struck her right hip. Determination was soon mixed in with the previous frustration.
“There it is again,” Yang shot out. “It’s like I’m getting slammed in a brawl.”
“Do you want to head to the infirmary? I could grab you some food?”
“I might go after lunch. The pains don’t usually last long anyway.”
The two were closing in on the entrance to the Beacon cafeteria, when they started to hear a roar and saw other students rush in. The pair looked at each other and followed suit.
Pushing through the crowd, Yang spotted Ruby, and vaguely heard her yell something towards the spectacle. Making her way over she saw what, or rather who, was at the center of attention.
It was Jaune and Cardin.
Of course it was. Conflict followed those two like bad luck to her uncle.
Off to the side of the semi-circle sat the rabbit faunus that Cardin and his lackey’s routinely tormented, Velvet, Yang remembered.
“Vomit boy finally snapped huh?” Yang asked her sister.
“Yeah, although Cardin’s landed a couple hits on Jaune.” Ruby answered, before cupping her hands around her mouth. “KICK HIS BUTT JAUNE!”
“ARC YOU BETTER NOT LOSE!”, came an authoritative voice from beside Ruby. Yang looked over her sister, and saw the Ice Queen herself, hands acting as a megaphone around her own mouth.
Noticing the new arrivals, she dropped her hands, and turned to face them.
“Just because I keep rejecting him, doesn’t mean I want him to lose. Especially to Cardin of all people.”
“What ever you say Weiss.”
Weiss stomped and pouted, causing the blonde to snicker. Yang was pulled from her laughter when Ruby grabbed her and pointed back at the brawl.
“Yang… Look at Jaune.” Came an almost whisper from her sister, as Yang followed her gesture.
Taking a proper gaze at Jaune it was plain to see he was getting his ass handed to him, and someone, either from his team or outside, would need to help him. But that’s not what caught her attention, nor was it what caused the siblings to freeze.
Jaune’s face was bruised, and by the looks of it, Cardin landed a hit on the left side of Jaune's face, judging by the discolouration. Yang raised her hand to touch her cheekbone and pressed on it. The knight winced and Yang pulled away, before following Ruby’s finger and the air escaped her lungs.
It was his eyes.
The ocean blue eyes that both teams were used to, were no longer there.
They were filled with determination, rage, and confusion. Confused as to how someone could hate another based off their race, especially at an institution where they were learning to fight creatures of darkness. Rage at the injustice performed against a classmate and a soon to be comrade in arms. Determination to live up to his family’s heroic legacy, and end the injustice brought on by a fellow classmate.
The ocean blue eyes of Jaune’s kindness, dorkiness, and goofball appearance was replaced by those of fiery passion, to aid in his ability to fight for what’s right.
His eyes…
His eyes…
His... eyes…
His... eyes...
Had turned red.
Not just any red.
HER red. The red of a Branwen.
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࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙ ⪩⪨ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚
Grandmaster's Favorite
Pairing: Bi-Han x fem!reader
Warnings: soft Bi-Han, slightly mean Bi-Han, P in V, unprotected sex, praise.
A/n: this is just a short fic I wrote to satiate the corners of my mind that are left unsatisfied with Bi-Han content, I'm filling my own void 😭
⚠️ NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MDNI⚠️
Bi-Han was known to be a cold and ruthless leader. Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had to be strong and capable, relentless when it came to his enemies to ensure the safety of Earthrealm and to maintain the high position of his clan.
Being in this stressful position, he often found himself letting off steam deep inside your throbbing pussy, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as the sound of skin-slapping echoed through the room. The filthy display of your legs bent, resting painfully on his shoulders as he bullied his angry, needy cock into your cunt was obscene, not to mention how hard you were gripping the sheets to the point they would almost tear.
"Eyes on me, baby... Moan my name" he commanded coldly, his hair hanging loosely from his forehead. His thumb rubbed and circled your clit with such vigor and passion that you almost passed out, creaming on him again for the nth time and causing a white, creamy circle to form at the base of his cock.
He loved it, seeing your pupils dilate and your mouth hang open as loud moans of pleasure, curses and a repeat of his name spilled from your lips, turning him on even more. "Do you love it when I'm pounding into you, huh? Love it when I fuck you, fill your pretty little cunt?" He chuckled darkly. All you could do was nod desperately, your nails digging into his back as red trails followed, his hard dick pumping you full of his cum again.
"It's too much, Bi Han~!" You whimpered, eyes glossy and half-lidded, trying to squirm away from him to no avail. "You want me to stop, princess?" He mocked, "I know you can take more than this.. you're basically squeezing my cock, you sure you want me to stop?"
You opened your mouth to try and reply with some snarky remark when he suddenly pulls out, leaving just the tip before pounding into you again, going hard and deep, kissing your cervix with his dick and reaching all the spots your fingers never could.
The knot in your stomach tightens again much faster than you hoped. You grab at his arms, opening your eyes to look at him, desperately trying to warn him of your impending orgasm. But he's relentless, completely lost in the heat and wetness of your abused little cunt, loving the way you scream and moan for him.
"Fuck, princess..." He sighs into your ear, feeling you shake and tighten around his creamy cock. He slows down, still rubbing your clit in a more gentle manner to help you ride your high. "I love you.. you take me so well, make your grandmaster feel so good..." He praised, pressing soft kisses to your neck and chest.
Despite his soothing words, you still feel the aftershocks of how hard you came, his seed already leaking out from the corners of your pretty little hole, leaking down the length of him and drenching your thighs, it almost looked like porn at this point.
Bi Han gave you a few more thrusts before his hips finally stilled deep inside you. He sounded heavenly, letting out the most erotic of breaths and grunts, blowing his load hard into your cervix. He pulled out slowly, his dick starting to soften as he massaged your thighs, helping you lay your legs down from his shoulders.
"Are you alright, sweet girl?" He asked, softer than you would expect him to say. All you could do was nod, simply ruined by his gargantuan cock. He replied with a small chuckle, holding your hand and kissing your palm softly before he slid off the bed, the mattress creaking from the loss of his weight.
Before your eyes threatened to close, you could feel him cleaning you up, running a damp towel over your body and between your thighs, behind your legs and on your chest. "I think I went too hard on you, princess... I'm sorry". He looks a bit apologetic, but a smile creeps up his lips when he sees you lean into his touch. He leans in to kiss the corners of your eyes, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach and down to your thighs, helping you relax.
"I'm ok, you're just.. so rough" she chuckled weakly, opening her eyes to look up at him. He looks so soft like this, the moment so domestic that it makes her heart flutter. "And you were such a good girl for me.. taking me in so well, making me feel so good" he praised, squeezing her thigh gently.
Soon, the space beside her dips and he lays down, wrapping his arms around her to make her lay on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, his hands rubbing up and down her back so softly it had her purring against him. "Love you.. I love you" you whispered to him, closing your eyes and feeling the heavy burden of sleep start to consume you.
"Sleep, princess.. I love you so much too, you did so well..." he smiles, kissing your forehead and burying his face into your hair, breathing in your scent before he starts to fall asleep as well. It was nights like this when he just wanted to let go of his responsibilities as grandmaster, yearning for her warmth and touch, loving the closeness and the feel of her breath on his skin. He loved it, he loved her.
#bi han x reader smut#bi han sub zero#mortal kombat#bi han x reader#bi han x you#smut#mortal kombat bi han#sub zero x reader#bi han smut#bi han mk
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okay you saying Three and Grian would clash makes me wanna see a multi-dimensional smash up where they meet
I MEAN SAME, one of my most self-indulgent desires is this, and i'm trying to remember if i've talked about this before on the blog or just rambled to my friends about it, lol. because it would be INTERESTING. there would be a lot of emotions going on there, it'd be messy!
because like, okay. so on grian's end: three is very clearly the bad ending, to him. this is the ending where the watchers erase grian and leave behind a strange little weapon who does stuff like "starts following orders when stressed", which is like, in grian's mind, the opposite of grian's behavior. and yeah, sure, three insists it isn't grian, but that doesn't make that not fucked up to grian, and probably also like... i don't know how good grian would be at seeing past that, you know? (bonus points if this grian is, himself, a standard "grian is a watcher who left" construction, because, you know, woof.)
but meanwhile, three like, has known identity hangups about grian. three would already be in a frustrated state of "i am NOT grian though" like, from the jump. but three would ALSO be forced to look at the version of the world where grian stuck around. and in some ways, three would look at that and see all the things its existence prevents, which would suck! but it would ALSO be a scenario where... so the thing is, the only version of grian that three knows is the posthumous version. the version that got lionized in death. this idealized image of the man. and i feel like three would see grian and find him... disappointing, in comparison, because ANYONE would be! but that'll also sure be a Thing.
(additional bonus points: grumbot. things that are DEFINITELY on the list of "things three didn't do in its own timeline and if mumbo did three treated wildly differently", and also on the list of "so do you think the human weapon with identity issues might identify with that robot or what" and also given that the rift remains one of the easiest crossover excuses on hermitcraft, oh man, oh boy. anyway.)
how would this end? I DON'T KNOW. i haven't managed to actually WRITE this self-indulgent thing although i have looked at all my friends with wide sad eyes about it in case any of them do, lol. but rest assured I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS GREATLY.
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Hello...I wanted to make a request that I don't know if it's something personal and I understand that you don't want to do it...but you could do a mr puzzle x helping a reader who suffers from hypersexuality... I will understand that if it may seem uncomfortable to you I won't force you to do it, I just want to feel comfortable with my favorite character
Of course, I am sorry if I do this wrong. I have never written hypersexuality before, so forgive me if I do this wrong.
Tw: Mildly sexual content. Implied SA.
You were walking to your dressing room when Mr. Puzzles went up to you, he put a hand on your shoulder and gave you a warm smile, he asked if you could see him in his office later today, he wanted to talk about something. You blushed and nodded, you have always liked Mr. Puzzles, you found him charming and quite the lovely person to be around, and he was very attractive for a man with a TV for a head, then your mind began to wander and you thought about the two of you together, in your bed hugging and kissing each other, and you two taking your clothes off.... You were doing that again. Thinking sexually about someone or wanting to do sexual things with someone. You felt disgusted with yourself, and thought that Mr. Puzzles wouldn't like that either. He'd probably tell you to piss off, like everyone else you had sexual encounters with. You followed him into his office and sat down in front of him, he offered you a cigarette, you declined. You were never one for smoking, your ex did though, and he was the one who hurt you. Made you do awful things with him. Harmed you in bed. You felt so gross for doing, and even more disgusted with yourself when you actually sorta liked it. He shrugged and blew some smoke, he seemed tense. "I'm going to get real with you, Y/N. I am not very happy with ratings. I am working so hard and yet I'm not getting good results. And production is going up in flames. Ugh..." Mr. Puzzles smoked some more, he was stressed, you had an idea on how to release it though. You got up from your chair and sat on his lap, he started blush and stare at you in surprise, you began to praise him for his good work and rubbed your hands on his chest.
Mr. Puzzles was touched by this, his face was beet red and he was starting to like it. But he see that you weren't doing this out of your own volition, he could tell that you weren't happy about this. He grabbed your wrists and put them away, you were afraid now, you didn't know what came over you, you expected him to get mad at you or throw you off of him or hit you. He didn't though, he picked up you and set you down on your feet. He sighed and kneeled down to your level, you began to tear up and look away from his gaze. He had seen this kind of behavior before, in television and in his actors. He gave you a very big hug, you started to cry and hugged him back. Those thoughts in your head were killing you. 'Your disgusting', 'nobody will love you if you keep doing that', 'your just like your ex, only worse'. You've heard these words before, but still, it kept repeating in your head multiple times. You were sobbing into Puzzle's shoulder, leaving a wet spot of where your tears went. Mr. Puzzles pulled away from the hug, ye was smiling at you, and he was patting you in the back.
"Mi amor, I know that you are hurting, but this isn't the right way to go. You don't have to give yourself to me so that I could feel better. I am not mad, but we need to work on your issues." You nodded, wiping away some tears with your sleeves. Mr. Puzzles grabbed a box of tissues and handed some to you, you blew your nose and threw it away. He stood up and held out his hand. "How about this? We'll both talk about safe outlets for your behavior, that way you won't get hurt by anyone. And then afterwards, we can go to dinner. How does that sound?" Mr. Puzzles asked. You smiled and nodded, you clearly needed to work through your issues, a nice talk and maybe even a therapist will help. You took his hand and you both walked out of his office, you felt relieved in a way. He did not judge you, and he even offered to help you, many would've just left you immediately. Your love for him deepened, and his love for you has not changed, you were still his little star.
(Again, I am sorry if I did this wrong. I hope this brings comfort to you, my friend.)
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of our own making
(an X-Files fanfic)
Chapter 2/34 - decaf coffee
[Read on AO3]
In the next week, the topic of adoption doesn’t come up again, and she tries to put it out of her mind as much as possible. They wrap up their case, spending several dull hours working on their reports, and wait impatiently for something else to come across their desk, ideally something a little more intellectually stimulating than the last few duds they’ve worked.
The good thing about not having any cases, though, is that no one blinks twice when they take a long lunch here, or leave work a few minutes early at the end of the day there. A spontaneous mid-morning coffee break at their favorite cafe down the street gets them out of the building, enjoying a rare warm day in December.
On the way to the coffee shop, they walk side by side—as always—until Scully stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Oh, Mulder. Look,” she says sadly.
He follows her gaze to the other side of the street, where a little boy no older than four stands with frightened eyes, looking back and forth helplessly while busy businessmen and women in suits pass by without sparing him a glance.
Mulder checks for cars quickly before jogging across the street, giving Scully little warning before taking off. She follows behind, carefully dodging traffic as it approaches.
“Hey, buddy, you lost?” Mulder asks, approaching the boy and kneeling down to his height.
The boy nods, red-faced and eyes brimming with tears.
“That’s okay, we’ll help you get this figured out,” he says consolingly. “Are you here with your mom?”
“Uh huh,” the little boy answers shakily.
Mulder gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. “Alright, well let’s find her, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“I’m Fox and this is Dana,” he says, nodding up at her. “We work for the FBI, do you know what that is?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Well, we’re kind of like cops.”
He sniffles.
“What’s your name, bud?”
“William.”
The world slows to a halt, and Scully’s eyes widen.
It’s a common name. So common, in fact, that she can name at least six Williams, Wills, or Bills off the top of her head without hesitating. But that’s exactly the problem.
It’s a family name. Both her family, and Mulder’s.
Fox William Mulder.
“William? Hey, that’s my middle name!”
She won’t think about it. She won’t think about the way that she wanted to use that name, if they were lucky enough to succeed at in vitro fertilization. She won’t think of that little boy she pictured, or the man she hoped would stay and be his father.
“Really?” William asks, eyes lighting up for the first time.
Mulder smiles. “Yeah, better than Fox, right?”
She hears a giggle, and remembers Emily. Mulder got her to laugh, too, even under the most harrowing circumstances. She shakes her head, focusing on the situation at hand. She won’t be of any help if she can’t get her head out of the clouds.
Mulder asks, “You know what your mommy’s name is?”
“Um—Susan,” William answers.
“That’s great. Good job, buddy, that helps. Where did you last see her?”
“We goed to get me shoes for playing soccer,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Soccer, huh? I’m partial to baseball myself—”
“Mulder—” Scully stops him, tapping him on the shoulder. When he looks at her, she points to the other side of the road, and he nods his thanks.
“Hey, look, there’s a shoe store across the street,” he says triumphantly, refocusing in on William. “I bet you she’s right over there looking for you!”
He stands, reaching out his hand for William to hold, and they cross the street together with Scully following closely behind. She watches them, and thinks that if she were a passerby, she might think they were father and son, out for a midday stroll.
It’s a side of Mulder she doesn’t often get to see. A side she suspected lay dormant for a long time after Samantha disappeared, but it’s still there, popping up here and there when it is needed.
“Hey, Scully, can you go in and check if there’s a Susan in there?” Mulder asks, looking to her for assistance. “I want to stay out here in case she comes by looking for him.”
She nods, clearing her head once again of the swirling thoughts that had occupied her. “Yeah, of course.”
She goes in and comes back out just as quickly, shaking her head despondently.
“The clerk said she and her son left about 10 minutes ago,” she reports.
“Did he say which way they went?”
“To the right.”
Mulder glances in that direction and nods. “10 minutes, well she couldn’t have gotten far. We found him just over there,” he says optimistically. “William, keep an eye out for if you see her.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
They head to the right, Mulder now carrying William on his shoulders up above the crowds. They pass a few stores, finding no luck so far, but then are startled when some pedestrians up in front of them nearly get bowled over by the sudden opening of a shop door. A frantic woman exits, then darts off, apologizing as she goes.
Mulder starts jogging, knowing that it must be the mother. He dodges other people walking, skirting between them expertly, which leaves Scully behind by a fair few paces. Luckily, she’s used to it. The woman is poised to enter the next shop when he calls out, “Susan?”
She turns.
“I think this little one belongs to you.”
An instant wave of relief washes over the woman’s face, and she runs to reach them. “William!” she gasps.
The boy all but leaps into her arms, curling in close while she strokes the back of his head, comforting them both.
“Where did you find him?” she asks through tears, holding tight to her wayward son.
“Just across the street,” Mulder says with a smile, pointing to where they came from.
Susan sighs in muted frustration. “There’s an ice cream shop over there, I should have known.”
“My sister did the same thing when I was about 9. Gave us all a heart attack,” Mulder chuckles.
The casual mention of his sister causes Scully to look at him in shock, but he’s too preoccupied to notice.
“I can’t thank you enough. I turned my back for one second.”
“No problem, just glad he’s back where he belongs,” Mulder responds.
After waving goodbye to William, he turns around, a content smile on his face. He starts in the direction of the coffee shop, as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened. Expecting Scully to follow, he walks right past her, but she stands frozen in place.
It’s insane. It’s impulsive. She’s going to do it anyway.
“Okay.”
He pauses and glances back at the statue that is Dana Scully. Amusement plays at his lips, though there’s more than a little confusion there too.
“Huh?”
“Okay.”
He laughs, backtracking a few steps so he is closer to her.
“You’re gonna have to say more words, Scully, I don’t know what you’re—”
“I want to adopt a baby.”
His eyes widen, and he looks to his right and left as if someone might overhear their personal conversation and go tell on them to their supervisors.
“You’re bringing this up now?” he asks, a little incredulously.
“Yeah.”
“And– and you’ve thought this through? You’re sure?”
No, not really. To be honest, she’d barely thought through this at all. There are so many reasons why they shouldn’t, why this is a terrible idea. They’re not ordinary people. They have enemies who could use this against them, careers that have proven to be life threatening on multiple occasions.
And yet…
“Mulder, seeing you with that boy…” she says, her eyes trailing off in the direction the mother and son had disappeared. “Yes, I’m sure. Only if the offer still stands, I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your—”
He stops her. “No! No, I’m in. Let’s do it. Let’s– We should talk about this.” He grabs her elbow and starts toward the coffee shop with her in tow, and the pace of his step forces her to walk faster to keep up. “Buy you a cup of coffee? Breakfast sandwich?” he asks, scrambling for something to say.
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
“Just the coffee then.”
The bell jingles as they enter. They sit down at a booth and Mulder leans in, his voice low and placating.
“Okay, no need to panic. We’re just talking about it, yeah? Breathe.”
She huffs out a laugh. “How are you so calm about this?”
He smirks. “I’ve been reading about this stuff for months. You only found my stash of brochures last week.”
“Months?” she breathes, voice laced with disbelief. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “It’s just a little… overwhelming, I suppose,” she says.
“I have that effect on people,” he jokes. “It’s not a rush. If we do this, it will take time, we just have to decide if it’s something we want to pursue. There’s an application process, and getting approved, not to mention finding the right placement...”
Scully feels out of her depth. He knows a lot more about this than she does. She almost wants to ask if he has a slide show prepared.
“I want to do it. I do,” she assures him, carefully choosing her words, “I just don’t know where to begin. It sounds like a crazy idea. Is it crazy?”
“Probably,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “Kind of just makes me want to do it more.”
She’d never admit it, but she feels the same way. Maybe Bill’s right. He has rubbed off on her.
“So… where do we start? What do we need to do?” she asks, needing more information before she starts spiraling.
“Why don’t we take it slow? Start with you and me and an actual adult conversation about our priorities, and then maybe this weekend I can stop by with some Chinese and we can look into next steps.”
She takes a deep breath, heart rate slowing back down to normal.
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”
How do we do this? How do we have this conversation we should have had months ago?
Before they get a chance, a waitress stops by to take their orders, and Scully opts for decaf. As electrified and anxious as she feels right now, she really doesn’t need caffeine to make it even worse. She can feel her knee bouncing relentlessly under the table.
Once the waitress is gone, Mulder gets the ball rolling with the first order of business.
“I guess to start us off, I need to know how involved you want me to be. I can help you find an agency and be your personal reference on your application, or I could—” he pauses. Breathes. “Like I said, I’ll be as involved as you want. I just need to know what you’re thinking.”
She shakes her head. “Mulder, I couldn’t ask you to—”
“I should tell you that the agencies favor couples over single parents,” he adds before she can finish, “It might be more difficult to get approved on your own, but if that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”
She studies him, the nuance of every microexpression on his face. She knows what her heart is wishing for, but what about him? Would she be asking too much of him?
“What do you want?”
He ducks his head, staring at the chipped surface of the table before glancing up at her with an apologetic smile.
“I’m a selfish man.”
She looks at him, needing more of an answer before she dares to respond. If he doesn’t mean what she thinks he means, one wrong word could spell disaster. Upset the delicate balance that is their friendship. She has to hear it straight from his mouth, this is no time for assumptions.
He sits back in his booth, and she braces herself for what he’s about to say.
“I want to coach little league,” he confesses. “I want to drive an ugly minivan, the ugliest one you’ve ever seen. I want to help with math homework, to tell crazy stories at bedtime and go on camping trips together.”
He looks deep in her eyes, and she shudders, feeling like his words have penetrated her very soul.
“I want it all, Scully. I want a family.”
I want you.
She feels tears pool in her eyes, her throat closing with emotion.
“I want that too,” she chokes out, unable to form any more words.
He reaches out a hand across the table and takes hers. She holds on tight.
“Well, that’s one thing settled,” he says, blinking back the pinpricks of tears in his own eyes.
~~~
Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]
@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson
#msr#txf#x files#xf fanfic#mulder and scully#my fanfiction#fox mulder#dana scully#of our own making#ooom#msr adoption fic#adoption
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Seaside Rendezvous
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader
Content: fluff, a little angst, unrequited feelings/ miscommunication, not rlly unrequited
Word Count: 0.6k
A/N: Heyyyyyy….. it’s been a while, huh? life has been busy and difficult and amazing and everything in between, but i just wanted to post something (even if i feel like it’s not my best work😓) i might be more active after like 2 weeks, but it’s also finals season rn :o anyway, miss you guys and miss writing! looking forward to getting back into tumblr, and i hope you enjoy!
It’s a clear and overwhelmingly blue sort of day. You walk along the beach, beneath a cloudless sky, which creates calm waters to push gently foaming waves onto the shoreline. They soak your feet while you amble on, shoes in one hand and a single bag of groceries in the other. And Sanji’s signature blue pinstripe shirt makes him look even more picturesque than usual- a perfect man against a perfect backdrop.
He’s less than an arms distance to your right, with at least 4 bags in each hand, plus a tote under his arm. But you feel there is no point in offering to hold a few, since he had already refused when you initially left the market. That was half an hour ago, and you’ve been merely contemplating your feelings up till now. You’ve always felt something for Sanji, it’s just hard to say what exactly. He flirts so shamelessly and often that understanding your own emotions is nearly impossible. Are they a matter of genuine affection (beyond friendship), or simply flare-ups of lust inspired by how much he seems to want you?
Even if you could know how you truly feel for Sanji, your longtime crew mate and friend, it wouldn’t matter for that very reason. If anything, it might be worse to know how real your affections for him are than it is to continue pushing them to the back of your mind silent, contemplative moments.
But Sanji makes that impossible, too.
“What’s on your mind?”
Your eyes leave the sand to meet his mirth- crinkled eyes. “Nothing, why?”
He manages to shrug beneath the weight of the groceries. “You were being quiet, that’s all.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be, dearest.”
You avert your eyes before mumbling, “Are you sure you don’t want help with those bags?”
“I don’t need help, but thank you. And,” he smiles a little brighter, “I’d hate to ever burden you, love.”
“Sanji, don’t say things like that.”
“Oh? I thought you enjoyed my terms of endearment for you.”
You shake your head no. “Not if they aren’t serious.”
Sanji’s expression turns from content, to confused, then surprised, while he slowly comes to a stop. Once you’ve notice he’s no longer walking by your side, you turn back in time to see him finally settle on a gleeful smile.
“You’d like it… if you knew I was serious?”
“W-Well… I guess, yeah. Not that I-“
“Because I am serious about you. I always have been, really.”
Now you’re the one who’s confused. “What?”
He rushes to drop the groceries, followed by the tote bag on his shoulder, and approaches you. Sanji guides you to drop your own load, too, before taking your hands in his.
“Would you be mine?”
“Sanji, you’re being ridiculous now…”
“I’m being genuine. Why, you don’t want to?”
“Well I mean, I would if I could, but I can’t. We can’t.” You let go of his hands and pick up your shoes and singular grocery bag, then straighten up and look into his eyes. He smiles sadly, and you just smile back before walking on.
He knows you don’t mean to hurt his feelings, especially since you seem to barely believe that said feelings for you could be real or serious. But it does hurt a little. Sanji sighs as he picks up his bags. He follows you and watches your hair bounce with your steps.
For now, he’d have to be content with letting his imagination run away with thoughts of loving you.
#fanfic#one piece x reader#one piece#one piece x you#x reader#sanji vinsmoke x reader#sanji x you#sanji oneshot#sanji fluff#sanji angst#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader
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Just a light hearted rant
In other words, things in Danny Phantom that make absolutely no sense.
First off is the on button to the portal being on the inside the portal.
Who's idea was that?Jack, Maddie, I'm looking at you.
Like seriously, Jack and Maddie gave up because the portal didn't work when they plugged it in. In reality they just didn't hit the on button, which was inside the damn portal! How does that even work?
In order to turn that thing on, someone would have to sacrifice their life to push the button...and would you look at that, Danny walked right into that and now he's half dead. Skill issue I guess, but still.
At least it seems Jack and Maddie fixed the issue as in later episodes its shown that there's a on and off button on the outside of the portal, either that or they built 2 sets of buttons in the first place which then makes me wonder why they didn't hit the on button they had on the outside when they plugged the portal in.
The next thing is questioning how Danny got the thermos working.
Yeah, it seems like he transferred some ghostly energy into it as pictured here:
But the show doesn't actually conform that or tell us how Danny got the thermos working. He basically asked the thermos to work and it went "No worries fam, I got you." And it worked.
No explanation, just a "it works now...yay!" Kind of vibe.
My third thing skips quite a few episodes, even a full season and that is the existence of Danielle or Dani.
Here are the questions that come to mind.
How is Dani a female when she is supposed to be a clone of a male? Yes I've heard the trans theory, or maybe to make her stable Vlad had to mess with the XY chromosomes, or even Vlad added some female DNA into her for some reason (probably to make her stable). But non of those ideas completely follow up.
Why is she 12? In cloning cases, the clone doesn't end up a set age, when someone is cloned, their clone starts as a fetus/baby. It should have taken Dani 12 years to you know, become a 12 year old kid. So unless Vlad decided to start cloning Danny when he was 2, I don't see why Dani is 12.
How is she even stable in the first place? Yes, the other clones Vlad made weren't very stable, but it still makes no sense that Dani is stable because cloning is a very delicate process. Usually a clone of someone doesn't end up healthy like Dani, there always has to be some birth defect, and in real life most clones don't even live that long, and that's 2024 talking. Mind you, Danny Phantom was made in the early 2000s, cloning technology probably wasn't as advance then, meaning Dani isn't even supposed to be alive.
Fourth and final thing, and that's the asteroid.
Just the fact that the asteroid is made of a material called ecto-ranium says it all. This material was never mentioned before Phantom Planet, meaning it was made up on the spot, rushed per-se just like how the final episode was rushed!
Even worse is the fact Vlad managed to send the fucking thing hurtling at earth, and the best idea that wveryone could come up with was send two middle aged man to space in a rocket ship, one being half ghost and the other being a inconfidant ghost hunter, both dumped on bad terms, and hoping for the best.
Who would have saw Vlad not being able to make the asteroid intangible coming? Who would have thought his plan failed, and Jack ended up leaving him out in space. What a shocker.
Then instead of building a laser or something that would destroy the asteroid everyone decided to put their trust on a teenage ghost to fix everything. Sure he was successful, making it so the asteroid could phase through the whole ass planet even though it's made of a material ghosts can't manipulate (meaning it should be obvious a ghost can't phase through the asteroid or get objects such as a whole planet to phase through it as well but to each your own).
Let's just hope the moon or sun or any other planet weren't in it's path when it passed through earth.
And don't even get me started on the crappy relationship we all know Danny and Sam are gonna have. It was rushed, and frankly knowing Sam is someone who wants things to go her way, and Danny is someone who's too stubborn to follow that, the relationship isn't going to last.
Also, why were Sam and Tucker being such assholes to Danny through the whole episode until he restored his powers. Like bro, he got rid of his powers to specifically protect you two, why be asses to him?
And that ends my rant lol.
#Danny Phantom#Danny Fenton#Humor#Rant#Light Hearted#Nickelodeon#Don't Take This Seriously#Nicktoons#Funny
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Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark
Summary:
To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?
Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?
Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, ptsd references, implied violence
Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus
If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140852350
Chapter 5 - Kaz
“It can’t be a coincidence,”
Kaz mused over Nina’s words for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning slowly to put the pieces together. It definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. But Kaz tended to follow a strict practice of believing nothing was a coincidence. He’d told Inej that once, and she’d nodded wisely.
“Fate has plans for us all,”
She’d been sitting on his windowsill, watching the rain running down the glass. She began to trace one with her fingertip, and he followed it with his eyes. Kaz frowned. He’d left the door open, because it was raining and he didn’t want her to open the window, but for some reason he was suddenly compelled to push it shut. Like there was something here that should be hidden, that he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of anyone else ever bearing witness to. He flexed his fingers and gripped his cane tighter, refusing to move.
“Suddenly, I believe in coincidences again,”
Inej looked at him for a moment, then back to the rain.
But it seemed very unlikely that Nina landing a strange job on the Geldstraat right before this job started was a coincidence. Kaz didn’t know what it added up to yet, but he would figure it out.
“Well, anyway,” said Nina, “I spoke to Feliks, all good for the job. He’s not thrilled about it though,”
“Of course he’s not,” said Kaz.
“He said you’ll owe him for the lost income,”
That would be more concerning if Feliks didn’t already owe Kaz money. And anyway he wasn’t really paying attention to that; mind still whirring away trying to solve the puzzle of Nina’s job on the Geldstraat last night. Not a coincidence. No such thing as a coincidence. No such thing as fate either, but Kaz really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.
“Did they want you to go routinely? At the Geldstraat?”
Nina bit her lip.
“He said it could be an ongoing offer, if I wanted it. But he also said he lost an indentured Healer recently, if he gets someone else I don’t see him forking out any extra cash for the pleasure of my company,”
“When you say lost…?”
Nina grimaced.
“Concerningly vague,”
Kaz wasn’t surprised. He nodded.
“Alright, I’ll look into it. If this ends up being an ongoing job for you it might be good for intel. Inej is at the Crow Club, tell her to get a bag together - I want you at the university tonight,”
“Tonight? Kaz, you said two days, I have clients-”
“They’ll wait,”
“Kaz-”
“Update Inej. I need to talk to the old man,”
Nina huffed a little, but she turned on her heel and went on her way. Kaz watched the empty doorway for a moment before he slowly stood up - his leg was wreaking havoc today, and he leant heavily against his cane to find his balance. He was going to be vulnerable without the Wraith for a time, and now she was vanishing slightly earlier than expected. He’d set up a communication line but it still felt dangerous not to have her close by, gathering secrets.
“I’m not sure I’m following,” she’d admitted last night, when they were discussing the plan.
It was before word had come from Nina and she’d left to follow her to the Geldstraat. They sat in Kaz’s office at the Crow Club - the door was closed and the room had no window, but they needed privacy and there wasn’t much Kaz could do about that. He watched Inej, wondering if they would need to step outside, but she seemed fine perched cross-legged on a chair, posture perfect, hands planted on her knees. Kaz found himself studying the tiny movements in her fingers, the occasional movement of her boots against her knee as she shuffled her feet. He bought her the boots the night they came back to the Slat, because he was an idiot and he hadn’t brought anything with him for her to wear. She’d traipsed after him all the way from the very North of West Stave to the very South of East still dressed in those ridiculous purple silks, completely barefoot. It hadn’t helped the whispers amongst the Dregs about what he’d hired her for.
“What connection does any of this have?” she asked, beginning to drum her fingers against her knees.
“It’s about forming the connections,” he’d told her, “Just focus on getting close to the mark - or let Nina get close and follow suit. Then we can discuss what comes next,”
Kaz’s leg screamed at him all the way down the stairs, only quieting slightly when he began to cross the ground floor of the Slat towards Per Haskell’s office. The Slat was nothing special to look at - actually it was ugly as hell to look at, with its faded, faintly mossy eaves, the wonky boards at the front that made it look like it was leaning on the buildings either side of it for support, and the fact that it probably was leaning on them but the boards just accentuated it - but nothing had come as close to feeling like home to Kaz as the Slat did since he’d arrived in Ketterdam and his entire world was slowly pried from his weak little childish hands. That was what this city did; took everything from you. And this is what you did to survive it: demand something in return. Scrape and claw and bleed your way through the Labyrinth until you didn’t just defeat the monster at its centre, you became it. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He wasn’t quite there yet, on the very top, but he would be. He would taste the monster’s flesh, and embrace the city as his own. The Labyrinth was meant to be a prison, but if you played your cards right you could own it. And Kaz never sat down to a card game he couldn’t win.
“Enter,” came the gruff, muffled response from Per Haskell to Kaz’s sharp, single knock on the door.
It sounded like he’d already been drinking, and when the door was open the smell alone confirmed it. Kaz fought the urge to grimace, keeping his face a cool, flat mask as he closed the door behind him. There was a window in this room and for a strange, ridiculous moment Kaz almost moved to open it. He needed to get his head on straight - the Wraith wasn’t even here, and if she had been then she could open a damn window herself if she wanted to.
“Kaz, my boy,”
Haskell gestured for him to take a seat, and Kaz’s leg was putting up such a protest that for once he took up the offer.
“Sir,” he said, nodding.
Haskell grunted. He was playing with one of his little ships in a bottle things again, and for a moment just let Kaz stew whilst he drove his focus into rearranging one of the tiny pieces. Kaz didn’t get the appeal of these little models but they were popular to display in merchant houses, to sit on desks or mantelpieces like the homeowner was waiting for your gaze to linger on it just a second too long so that he could tell you a long story about it and how it’s an exact replica of a ship he, in fact, owns himself. There were two half-constructed ones sitting on Haskell’s desk that he’d given up on over the last few months, and Kaz watched the man’s meaty, and slightly shaking, fingers fumble over the details of his newest one, feeling unsurprised that he’d never been successful at finishing any. After a minute had passed Haskell sighed and plunked the thing carelessly against the table, then picked up his glass and downed the last few drops before all but slamming it back down. Kaz flexed his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane, tightening his grip.
“Brandy?” asked Haskell, as he began to pour himself another glass.
Kaz abstained.
“Alright,” the old man breathed, taking a sip before he continued: “What trouble are you here to tell me this time, then?”
What could Kaz tell him by way of trouble? That Jesper Fahey abandoned his security shift without telling anyone where he was, only for the Wraith to drag him back five hours later from a Dime Lions club? That Nina Zenik had been sent to the Geldstraat to complete a highly suspicious Tailoring job that might have had something to do with the job Kaz had been planning for so long? All he said was:
“I need Nina and Inej to start the job earlier than I thought,”
Haskell frowned.
“How long will they be gone?”
“I don’t know yet, but it’s all under control. You’ll get your twenty percent,”
Haskell’s jaw twitched. It always got on his nerves when Kaz didn’t tell him what a job was, but that wasn’t part of their agreement. And besides, Kaz didn’t want to spread the details of his plans to too many people - everything in Ketterdam leaked.
“You can’t just take my Heartrender and my best spider without telling me h-”
“They’re not yours,”
“Well they ain’t yours,” growled Haskell.
“That isn’t what I meant,”
He groaned loudly and performatively, shaking his head.
“Don’t go getting righteous on me now, boy. I want them back here within the month, at minimum,”
Kaz pursed his lips.
“I’ll try to arrange that,”
“You see that you do,”
“Yes, sir,”
Haskell snorted, but Kaz knew he lapped up every stupid politeness he gave him. He liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a large, criminally-inclined family, but everyone knew it was Kaz who did the real work. It was more of a formality for Kaz to ever tell him anything at all.
“The Black Tips are still edging away at Fifth Harbour; pushing their luck,” he said, watching Haskell run a ringer along the rim of his glass, “We should move quickly if we want to re-establish our dominance,”
Haskell waved a hand dismissively through the air,
“A mere dog yapping at our heels. Monitor the situation, if things are any worse in a few months time we can organise a parlay,”
The man really was an idiot. Kaz nodded.
“Yes, sir,”
By the time Kaz left the office, disgruntled and impatient, Nina was back at the Slat.
“Where’s Inej?”
“Upstairs getting her stuff,” Nina said, nodding vaguely towards the stairs, “You really not going to tell us anything at all?”
Kaz sighed.
“When you get to the University, go straight to the office opposite the Boeksplein; it’s 24 hour, and they should be expecting you. You just arrived from Ravka - private journey, pepper it in because the tourist ferries don’t arrive this late - and there should be transfer papers waiting in your name. They might kick up a fuss about you being early, accommodation-wise, but-”
“But we’re two young rich girls from Ravka, it’s the middle of the night, we’re exhausted from travelling, and we’ve nowhere else to go,” Nina finished in a falsely distressed voice, winking at him, “I think I can manage that,”
“Good,” he handed her a thin stack of kruge, “That’s a month’s salary in advance, if it takes longer I’ll give you more but if it’s shorter I’ll need it back,”
She narrowed her eyes.
“This is your money? Not the Dregs’?”
He shrugged. He had to pay her somehow.
“Thank you, Kaz,”
“You won’t be any use to me if you run out of cash and starve,”
Nina sighed, tucking the notes into her pocket.
“Well thank you anyway,”
#don't go blindly into the dark#no beta read#six of crows#grishaverse#crooked kingdom#leigh bardugo#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#nina zenik#kanej#wesper fic#kanej fic#wesper#wylan hendriks#soc fanfiction#soc fandom#soc fic#six of crows fandom#six of crows fanfic#six of crows fic#six of crows duology#grishaverse fanfic#grishaverse fandom
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