#you have to lure them out with gentle words and treats | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 year

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Yours For The Taking

Authors note: everyone say thanks to @romanoffsbish (and sorry for the late post guys, didn’t realize it was the 4th lol)

Warnings: Nat has a penis, typical a/b/o stuff(claiming, mating, knotting), sexual content (oral sex, vaginal sex)

Word count: 6632 Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

To say Natasha wasn’t like other Alphas would be a massive understatement. After everything you've done to gain her affections and attention, any other Alpha would have pounced on you by now, but not Natasha. And even more frustratingly it’s not like she's ignoring you or uninterested, the way she reacts to you tells you she is, but she never acts on this.

Every gentle caress you give her arm or cheek has her leaning in, chasing more of your touch. Every compliment you give her has her smiling shyly with pink dusted cheeks as she softly compliments you in return. Every flirtatious remark you give her leaves her blushing profusely and has her looking down at the floor in order to stutter out a response. And on the rare occasions where she's the one to flirt, well it's the most pitiful thing you’ve ever heard. It's nothing like what she can accomplish on missions or when she's being playful with the guys, no it's more akin to what a nervous college boy would say while at the bar.

And whenever you pump out your pheromones in an attempt to lure her in, you see how she reacts. In fact you take great pleasure in watching how you affect her. It starts with her eyes dilating, followed by her licking her lips. Next her breathing increases and her limbs tremble ever so slightly. Then lastly she shifts to adjust her pants before promptly leaving the room.

So really it's quite clear she harbors some type of feelings for you, but for some reason she just doesn't act on them. You’ve never known an Alpha to behave in such a way, but then you've never known an Alpha that had such an unusual and cruel upbringing as she had. You figured it had something to do with her shyness and quietness with her obvious attraction, it's why you tried so hard, you wanted to work her out of her shell. Unfortunately that approach is slow going.

“Have you seen Nat?” you ask, entering the kitchen and to your annoyance Wanda gives you a knowing look. Damn perceptive Alpha

“She's at SHIELD” Kate answers through a bite of Yelenas special mac & cheese, “I think she's doing something with the recruits today. At least that's what Clint said”

You nod, “Thanks Kate. If anyone needs me- ”

“You’ll be at SHIELD” Wanda finishes, sending you a wink

It doesn’t take you long to get to SHIELD, and once you get there you’re treated for a show. Natashas in her black leggings that hug her form perfectly, with her black tank that shows off her sculpted biceps off to match. Her hair is back in a tight braid and she wears a proud smirk as one of the recruits, an overconfident young Alpha by the looks of him, hobbles away from her spot on the training mats. Seems she had been given the task of teaching the recruits hand to hand combat today, and she's not going easy on them.

Half of them looked like they've been asked to hogtie a rampaging Hulk, and the other half looked like they’d been run over by him while trying. You decide to hang back in the shadows by the doorway. You suspect she knows you're there, she is the Black Widow after all, but it's much more fun for you to watch this than make yourself known to the recruits in the room. It's not often you have the opportunity to shamelessly ogle her out in the field, so this is a very welcomed change.

She easily fights her way through the next handful of recruits, offering them advice and criticism as she does so, and god does she look hot. Muscles flexing, sweat dripping down her porcelain skin, mischief shining in her eyes with that damn cocky smirk. You love getting to witness her in her element. Even more so when you know just how much she squirms when you remove her from it.

“Alright, that's enough for today” she announces, wiping the sweat from her brow, “I don’t want to break any of Furys new guys”

The crowd erupts in a symphony of groans at her remark, but one of the Alphas, the young man you remember from earlier gives her a defiant growl, “No way an ex KGB turncoat could break me”

Her eyebrows knit together as she glares at him, a growl of her own leaving her throat, “Well, I’m not just an ex KGB agent McKinnon. I'm also a level 10 SHIELD agent and an Avenger, so rest assured, if I wanted to I’d send you to Fury in pieces. You're all dismissed.”

You watch with a smug smile as she puts him in his place, making all the recruits quiet down before they all file out of the room. There's a definite slump to McKinnon's shoulders that has you quite proud of the Russian and you almost feel bad knowing that you're about to make her a stumbling mess

“Hey Natty” you call out, walking towards her with a smile

Her gaze shoots over to you and a familiar pink settles across the apples of her cheeks as she remembers that you walked in a while ago, which means you not only got to witness her fighting skills but you also got to see her tell off the younger Alpha. She secretly hopes you enjoyed both displays of strength

“Hi-Hey” she stutters, and her brows furrow in frustration at herself. She takes a deep breath before trying again, “Hi Y/n”

Your smile never falters which helps put her at ease, and a smile of her own breaks across her features, “Have fun tossing around Furys new rookies?”

“You have no idea” she replies, her cocky smirk returning briefly, “I don’t understand why they always hate hand to hand combat training.”

Your eyes rake over her as you chew on your bottom lip, “Yeah, me either”

Her blush returns ten fold and she fidgets with her fingers in her nervousness, “So uh, what um, what brings you over here?”

“Well…” you draw out, letting your hand trail up her bicep, making her swallow thickly, “I thought you might be hungry after such an active afternoon. Wanna grab lunch?”

“Yeah, sure” she answers, trying not to sound too eager to spend time with you even though she absolutely was, “Where were you thinking?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Why don’t you go grab a quick shower, and by the time you're done I’ll have a place picked out”

She nods, “I’m holding you to that”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” you ask, a knowing smile on your face

She smiles and holds her hands up in surrender as she takes a few steps back towards the locker rooms, “Nothing, nothing. You can just be a little indecisive, that's all”

“Don’t make me go to lunch without you” you tease, knowing full well you would never do such a thing. But the slight crease of worry in the Alphas brows tells you she doesn’t realize that, “Go shower Natty. I’m not leaving without you.”

“Ok” She blushes, still not entirely used to your ability to read her so easily, “I won’t be too long. Be right back”

You nod and watch her walk away, shamelessly letting your eyes look over her toned back before traveling down to glance at her muscular thighs. And you'd be lying if you said you didn’t admire the sway of her hips as she walked through the locker room door.

There was no doubt Natasha was a very physically attractive Alpha, and you did admire her muscles and her beauty, but there was far more to her than that. Her smirk could give you butterflies, her sense of humor never failed to make you laugh, her sarcastic quips always amused you, her laugh always made you smile, her kindness was incredible for someone that had been through so much hardship, her smile could always brighten your day, her protectiveness always made you feel safe and cared for, her eyes were always so warm and welcoming, her physical and mental strength was awe inspiring, her gentleness proved how good of a heart she had as most Alphas were much more rough, and her touch.

God her touch, it practically set your skin ablaze and had your heart beating wildly inside your chest. But the adorable Alpha was so shy and unsure that she didn’t indulge in this too often, much to your chagrin. But when she did, you could tell she felt the same sparks you did. Which made her lack of initiation frustrating at times.

“Hey, you ready?”

Her voice brings you out of your thoughts and you nearly sputter at how quick she was, “Jesus, if your hair wasn’t wet I would think no water even touched you. You were only gone like six minutes”

“Well, you know SHIELD taught us those quick military showers when we were recruits and anytime I’m here that training just sorta kicks in” She laughs it off trying not to let you know she was so quick because of her excitement, “So, where are we eating?”

“I was thinking Italian, so B’artusi?”

Her eyes light up, “Yeah, sounds good. Come on, the subway will get us there the quickest”

As you descend the stairs into the subway you try not to let your anxieties show, but as usual the Alpha is able to read you easily

She eyes you carefully, “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I'm good. I just don’t take the subway too often since it's not really that safe for Omegas on their own, so seeing and smelling all these Alphas makes me a little nervous” you reply, taking a deep breath in an attempt to focus on her pine and jasmine scent, “That must sound a bit silly coming from an Avenger”

“I don’t think it's silly” she replies, looking at you in the gentle way that she does, “In a way i can understand.”

“Really?” you ask, finding comfort in the fact that the brave Alpha could relate

She nods, “Yeah, all the scents can be overwhelming. But if you get stressed, just remember I’m right here.”

“Thanks Natty” you say, smiling softly making her heart melt

The two of you make your way through the crowd until the subway car is in view. You both allow the people in front of you to file in before following and Natasha heads in first. She leads you to an empty section of seats towards the back and lets you sit down first before taking the seat next to you. The doors then close and the subway takes off.

The ride proceeds as normal, stopping a few times to let people on and off before taking off again. During all this you focus on Natasha, having an easy casual conversion to distract yourself from the constant changing smells of Alphas. It works, for a while at least. But at the last stop a group of four rowdy Alphas board.

They’re loud and obnoxious, but nothing you haven’t seen before. Their scents bother you though, and by the looks of their attire it's easy to understand why. They’re fresh from the gym and high on adrenaline, and coupled with their rowdiness their pheromones are working in overdrive. It's bad enough that you even see the redhead's nose twitch a few times.

Their gaze eventually turns to you and subconsciously your leg starts bouncing to help quell your anxieties. To help calm yourself further you reach out for Natashas hand. Not expecting the contact from you, the Alpha stiffens at first, but when realization hits her she settles and tries to ignore the warmth rushing to her cheeks. Distracted, she fails to notice the group take in her unusual reaction and being more brawn than brain they don't read it as shyness, they see it as a lack of interest.

“Hey there baby” the gruff voice of the lead Alpha calls out, “Why don’t you come over here with me and my boys? We’re more than willing to give you our undivided attention”

“Yeah, might even give you a nice treat” another of them snickers, adjusting the crotch of his shorts

“Back. Off.” Natasha growls, her hand moving from your hand to your hip, and she pulls you closer as she pumps out her pheromones. You know it's to drive the other Alphas back, but you can’t deny that it has the opposite effect on you. You’d do anything to melt against her right now and bury your face against her neck.

“I think you're the one that needs to back off.” he says, chuckling with a cocky smirk, “In case you haven’t noticed, you're a little outnumbered. And I think we’re better suited to care for her needs”

Her lip curls with another growl, a deeper one this time as she puffs out her chest. Cleary these dumb, overly cocky assholes had no idea that the Alpha they were messing with was an Avenger. Let alone the Black Widow, an Alpha that could easily mop the floor with all of them. But you both have a feeling they're very close to finding that out.

“Poor ‘mega. We can take care of you baby” another one of them suddenly says, stepping closer to you. He pays no attention to your obvious discomfort as you attempt to shift away from him and closer to Natasha, and he crosses yet another line by cupping your jaw, “One of us might even keep you after we’ve all had our turn”

And that's all it takes for Natasha to lose what small shred of patience she had left.

A few minutes later the train stops at your station, and Natasha makes her way back over to where you sit. You smile as she takes the incentive to grab your hand, and she leads you over the pile of unconscious Alphas towards the train's exit. Once the two of you make it to street level your sense of peace returns and Natasha is able to relax once more and put her focus back on you and your lunch date. At least that's what she hopes this is, though she won’t risk asking.

“I was thinking about getting fettuccine alfredo at first, but now I'm thinking about shrimp penne.” she tells you with a smile, “What about you?”

“Mmm, I’m thinking baked ziti. Oh! Or maybe a creamy chicken carbonara”

“Good choices” she says, opening the restaurants door for you

The two of you get a table near one of the main windows, giving you a nice view of the bustling city life. Cars, cabs, bikes, buses and people pass by in blur as they all go about their day and you're content to watch them do so from your cozy seat inside the quaint restaurant.

“Sometimes I forget that there's a certain beauty to city life” you hear the Alpha across from you admit, “You can’t really notice it when you're caught up in it, or world saving missions but when I take a step back, I can easily see it”

Your gaze shifts from the window and over to her, and you're almost taken aback when you find her already looking at you, her eyes shining with emotions you cannot seem to place. She offers you a shy smile and you don’t hesitate to smile in return, letting your hand brush against hers on the table. Her pinkie twitches, but she doesn’t move away.

“Thanks for deciding to take a step back with me today, Natty”

When the waitress shows up neither of you accept the menu she offers, instead you both go for one of your earlier options. Nat decided to go with the fettuccine and you choose the carbonara. It doesn’t take long for your meals to be brought out to you and neither of you wait to dig in.

“How's yours?” she asks after swallowing a mouthful of her own pasta

You nod, “Very good. What about yours?”

“Delicious. I’ll definitely be ordering it again.” she says as she gathers some up on her fork. Before she can bring it to her mouth though your hand grasps her wrist, and you bring her hand, and fork over to your own mouth. She watches with pink cheeks as you take it into your mouth.

“Mmm, you're right. That's very good. I’ll have to order it next time.”

“I uh, I- yeah. Yeah.” she stutters, finally bringing her arm back over to her plate

Enjoying her flustered state you can’t resist the urge to release some of your pheromones, further antagonizing her. It’s not that you want to upset her, no, you just want her to act on her natural Alpha urges. And she desperately wants to, but it's not like the Red Room taught courses on the subject of courting and mating, quite the opposite really. They did their best to strip those instincts from her, leaving her perplexed on what to do in situations like these.

You watch as she inhales your strawberry and plum scent, making her eyes dilate and you focus on her tongue as it pokes out to wet her lips. You give her a not so innocent smile and her grip tightens on her fork as she tries to rid herself of the not so appropriate thoughts running through her mind. And as if she was unaware of the affects you have on her, her cock twitches, further proving how much she wants you.

She averts her gaze from you and squirms slightly, really hoping that no one in the restaurant, especially you, notices her particular dilemma. But she decides to play it safe and excuses herself to the bathroom before it can get any worse.

She swallows thickly and leans against the sinks countertop, taking a deep breath before looking at her reflection. She internally curses at how lust crazed she looks, but the curses don’t stay internal once she sees the tent in her pants.

“Damnit, get it together” she chastises herself, moving her shaking hands over to the sink. She turns the water on and collects a bit in her hands, bringing it up to splash her face. To move her focus away from the throbbing in her pants she does some deep breathing, and she's relieved to find that seems to be doing the trick.

After about five minutes she returns to the table and she really hopes it wasn’t obvious why she had left. It was though, to you at least because you knew exactly what you were doing. Still, you don’t tease her about it.

“Do you want to get dessert before we leave? We can split it if you want.”

She sits back down across from you and smiles, “Yeah, I’d like that”

It's been almost a week since lunch with Nat, the two of you have unfortunately been kept at a distance with all the missions and paperwork that have been assigned. Sure you'd seen each other and been able to say a handful of words but it was much different than the way you'd both normally be able to do things together like watching movies, working out or just talking over coffee. But at least the two of you had still been able to text. That's how you knew she was free this afternoon after training the SHIELD recruits again, and thankfully you were free too.

“Where are you off to?” Tony asks, watching you walk through the compound with a pep in your step

“Gonna surprise Natty over at SHIELD. I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

He does his best to hide his knowing smirk with his cup of coffee, “Well have fun watching her beat them up”

“I will!” you reply, making your way to the elevator

Once you make it over to SHIELD headquarters you're a bit surprised to find Yelena in the training room, watching her sister work.

“Hey Lena”

“Oh, hey Y/n” She greets with a smile, “What are you doing over here?”

“Well, Natty and I haven’t seen each other in a few days so I was hoping to do something today, but if you have plans with her…” you draw out, trying not to let your disappointment show

“No, no plans” she tells you, “Fury just wants me to start training recruits as well so today I was made to watch her teaching technique. It's very….”

“Rough?” you offer, as resounding thud of a recruit hitting the mat rings out

The blonde smiles, “I was going to say hands on, but yes. Rough fits”

The young and cocky Alpha from the other day currently leans up against the back wall. He's angered by the fact that he, and none of his other fellow recruits have managed to even make Nat break a sweat, let alone get the upper hand on her. But when he sees you enter the gym, he decides on a different approach to get under the Alphas skin.

Just as she's about to dismiss everyone off to the locker rooms she spots him approaching her, and she huffs in annoyance as she knows something is coming

“Wow” he breathes out, looking past her, “Y/n is absolutely gorgeous, isn’t she Romanoff?”

Her jaw clenches at his tone, but she does in fact follow his gaze over to you. A warmth bubbles in her chest when she sees you, she's missed you these past few days. Unfortunately she's not able to appreciate you long as McKinnon still has more to say.

“And to think she's still unmated. Means I still have a chance, I am afterall a worthy and untainted Alpha, unlike you. How red is your ledger exactly?”

She's taken aback by his statement, not only because he's never once said anything about you indicating his attraction but also because no one has ever been so forward with her, essentially challenging her in her affections for you. But what really sets her off isn’t his dig at her past, it's how his gaze glues itself to your ass

Yelenas eyes suddenly meet hers and she realizes that she doesnt think like he does, meaning she really could be the Alpha for you, even if she doesn’t have a clue on what she's doing. She sees you, all of you, and she enjoys it all. That has to make her worthy, right?

“Listen here McKinnon” she growls, pointing a finger deep into his chest muscles, “If you put even half as much effort into your training as you did making me mad, you’d already be a level four agent.”

His eyes widen slightly as she takes a very protective tone and he instinctively takes a step back from her. It does no good, as she simply steps forward, smirking at the way his knees nearly buckle as her angry scent surrounds him

“A word for the wise, agent. It's not very smart to piss off someone that has both the clearence and the skill to make you disappear without a trace” she growls, roughly shoving him before turning on her heels

She starts making her way over to you and her sister then, hopeful that her confidence from putting him in his place won’t fade as you're sure to make her stumble. Yelena had seen everything as she kept you busy with conversation and she gives the older Russian a knowing smirk as she approaches. .

You notice her before she's even beside you, her scent is strong today. Much stronger than usual. It makes your knees wobble and your hands sweat. And the way her muscles all flex when she greets her sister with a side hug has your mouth going very dry. Both of which are things you're not accustomed to dealing with when it comes to the Alpha.

“Hey Y/n” she greets, her normally shy smile replaced with a natural one that has butterflies erupting in your stomach as your heart races

“Hi Natty” You greet in return, wrapping your arms around her for your usual hug

There's the smallest amount of irritation and discomfort lingering in her scent, something you can really only notice when you're this close to her. Subconsciously your instincts take over and you end up scenting her to help ease her. Though you don’t notice you’d done this, she does, and it thrills her. In response to this her grip on your hips tightens, almost possessively so as her eyes bore into McKinnon's who is off sulking behind you. And the longer you stay in her embrace, the hazier your mind becomes.

Eventually you both break apart and Nat is sure to puff her chest out to McKinnon to further deflate his ego. Watching her show off to the younger Alpha while her scent swirls around you has arousal pooling in your belly as your mind wanders to all the things you’d want Natasha to do to you, and with wide eyes you finally realize what's going on. Your heat has been triggered.

It had already been closely approaching, but you thought you could handle yourself around Natasha, like you had in the past. Apparently your exhaustion from the past few days was enough to lower you to the edge, and with your need for the Alpha her scent had been enough to throw you over head first. And you absolutely cannot be out in the open for this

“Well, it was nice you Yelena…Natty, I’ll uh, I’ll text you!” you rush out before quickly fleeing

Nats' confused reply dies on her tongue as your scent hits her and Yelena like a truck. Her brows furrow when she picks up on how different it is. It lingers in the air longer than it normally would and it's sweeter too. Did that have something to do with why you’d taken off like that? It had to, because why would you come all the way to SHIELD only to leave without even having a conversation with her…were you hurt? Sick maybe? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to find out.

“Somethings up with Y/n. I need to make sure she's ok.” the Alpha stresses, not wanting to just abandon her sister but needing her to understand

“Go. Check on your Omega” she tells the older woman

“She's not mine” Nat hisses, her cheeks once again turning pink as she turns to practically bolt off to the locker room

A knowing smirk spreads across the blondes face and she mutters a quiet, “Not yet anyway”

The redhead quickly gathers her belongings and heads for the garage, hardly even noticing how she manages to shoulder check McKinnon on the way out. She hops on her motorcycle, revs the engine and speeds back to the compound. By the time she gets there she's too worried to wait for the elevator, and opts to take the stairs instead. She takes them two at a time, hardly even huffing as she exerts herself.

Finally she makes it to the main floor for the Avengers, and she tries her best to not just burst through the stairwell door. She takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart and her nerves before opening the door and walking in. She makes her way through the entryway and living areas without bumping into anyone, but unfortunately that comes to an end once she reaches the kitchen.

“Hey Romanoff” Steve calls out, beckoning her to come closer for a conversation. Her muscles tense in irritation at his poorly timed request but since he is head Alpha, she relents.

As he begins to drone on about whatever it was Fury said she finds her mind checking out of the conversation. She can feel her frustration bubbling under her skin, he's keeping her from you. It's not intentional, she knows that. But she also knows that something is going on with you, and she doesn’t like not knowing if you're alright.

In your room you squirm in your nest, a futile attempt to get comfortable as a layer of sweat starts to cover your body and you let out a pitiful whine when your core throbs painfully. Trying to comfort yourself you bring your shirt up and inhale deeply, letting the lingering scent of the sweaty Alpha you hugged earlier seep into you.

Unfortunately this does the opposite to help you. You can feel your slick dripping down your thighs as your entire being aches for the redheaded Russian and despite knowing she very well may be oblivious to your current plight, you can’t stop yourself from reaching out.

The Alphas phone dings suddenly and she manages to check it while Steve continues to ramble. What she sees, makes her heart race and her worry grow

I need you. Please

“Steve” she stresses, “I’ve gotta go”

“Now wait just a minute” he tells her, grabbing her arm as she attempts to turn away

She immediately turns to him, letting a growl slip past her lips. Surprised, the older Alpha lets her go and backs down against this challenge. He knows she wouldn’t brush him off without a reason if it wasn’t something important. She nods in thanks before running off down the hall that leads to everyone's quarters. When she arrives at your door she's too anxious to knock, instead she rushes in, only realizing that may have been a bad idea once the door shuts behind her and she finds herself within arms reach of your nest.

“Oh fuck” she exclaims, her mind already going hazy as your scent envelopes her, and her cock eagerly twitches, “You…you're in heat”

You whimper, confirming this as you lock eyes with her, “Natty, need you so badly”

Her mind races, at your declaration. She wants to believe you mean this so she can care for you and claim you as her own. But between how naturally needy heat can make an Omega and with how her Red Room training affects her Alpha instincts so much, she has her worries.

“I- you…you don’t know what you're saying right now” she stutters as she subconsciously takes a few steps closer to you

“Baby, no, please. I want you so bad.” you whine, grabbing her hand, “I've always wanted you. Please Alpha, let me show you"

The way you're looking at her has all hesitation fleeing her, unfortunately the nervousness didn't follow, "I uh…o-okay"

"Yeah?" You question, pulling her closer to you as you sit up

She nods, "Go ahead Omega. Show me"

Your heart hammers at hearing her say it and you practically launch yourself into her arms to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Her arms wrap tightly around you, holding you protectively as you take her breath away. Unsure if it's the intensity of your scent or the lack of air that's causing her dizziness she breaks away.

“That was…wow” she stutters, a large dopey grin spreading across her face

You return the grin before nuzzling into her neck, breathing in her strong scent. Her hands gently rub your back and a soft purr escapes you as you bask in her presence. You've longed to have her this close and judging by the way her hold on you tightens, she's longed for it too.

Eventually you back out of her grasp, but still hold onto her hand and you begin to lead her over to your bed. She follows, her hand in yours as you lead her to the bed, and you gently press your lips against hers once more.

"This all because of me baby?" You hum, your hand softly cupping her bulge

"Yes" she whimpers, pushing her hips further into you, "Your scent drives me crazy…"

"Yours drives me crazy too" you admit, placing a gentle kiss against her scent gland as your hands begin to pull at the bottom of her shirt

She eagerly lifts her arms for you, allowing you to practically rip it off her before tossing it to the floor, her bra quickly joining it. Gently you press your hands against her shoulders to get her to sit. She does so, shifting around in an attempt to get comfortable as her hard cock strains against its confines.

Your hands travel to her waistband then and she lifts her hips allowing you to pull her pants and boxers down and she lets out a sigh of relief as her clothes pool around her ankles.

Your mouth waters as you watch her cock rise to almost meet her toned abs, and you give her a smirk before letting one of your hands begin to slowly jerk her off. She groans, letting her head fall back slightly as you pleasure her and you watch a drop of her precum drip onto your thumb. It takes everything in her not to whine as she feels you let go, but her pupils blow wide as she watches you lick your thumb, tasting her essence.

“You taste better than I imagined” you purr, watching the way she blushes

“You- you imagined tasting me?” she asks, her hopeful tone sending a warmth through you

You smile at her, “Of course I did, I imagined everything with you Natty. I told you, I’ve always wanted you”

You kneel before her and lick your lips before taking her tip in your mouth, causing her hips to buck slightly. She gives you an apologetic look but you don't really mind as it allowed even more of her cock to enter your mouth and you quickly make her expression turn to bliss as you begin to bob your head up and down, taking what you could of her down your throat.

She brings one of her hands to your head, tangling her fingers in your hair in an effort guide you, “Come on detka(baby), open wider for me….oh fuck, just like that”

She guides the rest of her cock into your mouth with ease, letting herself enjoy its warmth as her eyes begin to roll back. Not used to something so big you gag a bit and the Alphas eyes immediately shoot open as she stares down at you with concern. It warms your heart to see her be so attentive to even the slightest of changes with you, but to ease her worries you let your hands rest on her bare thighs as you continue your actions.

After a few more minutes you can feel the way her muscles tighten beneath your grip as well as hear the way her breathing picks up. Intent on pleasing your soon to be Alpha you double down on your efforts and are rewarded with a guttural moan from her as her fingers tighten in your hair

“Y/n, I’m gonna….gonna cum” You hum around her cock in an effort to tell her it was ok, and she gets the idea, spilling her seed down your throat

After swallowing every drop you release her still hard cock with a ‘pop’ and happily smile at her as you stand. Without any warning she grabs you by the hips and pulls you into a kiss. It’s full of her passion for you, and you have no objections as she begins to remove your bra. It lands on the floor somewhere, and your underwear do too.

Your hands find purchase on her shoulders before you swing your leg over hers as you straddle her lap. She can feel the heat of your core above her and her cock throbs as a bit of your slick drips down on her. You look her in the eyes as you slowly lower yourself, your hips softly swaying as you do, and her hands grip your waist tightly as you let out a moan.

“You're so big” you whimper, taking a moment to adjust to her size

She nuzzles against your neck to distract herself from the urge to wildly begin trusting up into you and begins to kiss and suck your soft skin. You take that as your queue to continue sinking down on her lap and you both let out a moan as your hips meet hers, letting her be fully buried inside you

“Fuck, Y/n” she moans as you begin to bounce on her lap, “You're so warm around my cock detka(baby)”

She begins to kiss and suck the soft skin around your neck, trailing her mouth down to your supple breasts until she can take one of your nipples into your mouth. You arch yourself further into her, wrapping your arms around her neck and burying your hands in her red locks and another moan slips past your lips as she hits that perfect spot inside you

“Alpha!”

Hearing her title fall from your lips while she's sheathed inside you does something to the Russian. It's like it unlocks all her hidden and buried instincts and brings them to the surface, and now there's no holding her back from her desires

Suddenly and without warning you're on your back on the mattress with Natasha hovering above you, her hips moving almost frantically as she pounds into your soaked cunt. Your nails dig into her shoulder blades and your legs wrap around her hips as you try to keep her as close as possible and the sounds you're making spur her on even more

“Ooh, Natty!” you cry out, clutching at her as you quickly feel your orgasm approaching

“You sound so pretty for me detka(baby)” she grunts, bringing her forehead to rest against yours, “On;y for me, right?”

“Yes!” you answer, nodding as best you can, “Only want you Natty”

She croons at your answer and nuzzles against your neck once more. You nuzzle against her as well, letting her scent overwhelm you and your mouth waters as you eye her scent gland. Without even thinking you give into the urge, sinking your teeth into her skin

She moans as she feels you mark her, and her knot begins to form. You feel it too and just as it slips inside you, you strike. She moans as your teeth bite into her scent gland, her cum filling you as she locks into place and she's brought back to her senses by your gentle purr

“All mine Alpha. Just as you should be”

She hums in agreement before eyeing your scent gland and she takes the opportunity to sink her teeth into you then, causing you moan as you feel her teeth break through your skin.

When she pulls away she lovingly cups your face, her eyes glistening as she looks at you, “My beautiful Omega”

You watch as a few tears spill down her cheeks, her other emotions finally catching up with her. A loving Omega that wants her, despite her abnormal Alpha behaviors and harsh past is something she never thought she’d be able to have. She never even hoped for it really, not until she met you. So now, having you claim her as your own is a dream come true

You bring your hands to cup her face, letting your thumbs brush away her tears, “I love you Natty”

“I love you too, Y/n” she admits, smiling at you, “So much. I just never knew what to say, or what to do”

You smile back at her, “I know baby, and that's ok. We have each other now and that's all that matters.”

She nods and lets her forehead rest against yours once more, “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I take care of you properly, my Omega. I promise”

“You already do Alpha. You have nothing to worry about.”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight

#natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #alpha!natasha romanoff #alpha!natasha #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #a/b/o #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o fic #a/b/o april

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 8 months

Text

A quick meal

cw: shameless smut, no use of y/n, female anatomy for reader, desk sex, dirty talk, slightly rough(-ish)? perhaps??

word count: 1,5k

eng is not my first language, please inform me if you spot any mistakes!

Viktor always knew it’s what inside that counts. And so he counted. Every rich moan escaping your mouth, every squelch of the fondly fingered pussy — it’s every prominence, fold and flexure, and, of course — exactly how much pressure you prefer on your clit. Well, at least that explanation was the only reasonably-appearing one to you, because how the hell did he know how to make you cream his fingers in coats of delicious stickiness in exactly few minutes, the stretch of them so qualitative your throbbing walls could easily accept his cock with little to no effort put into penetration. He must have used an ungodly amount of diligence to develop this specific technique just for you — his precious, lecherous sweetheart. Your whimpers are a devil on his shoulder, distracting him from being a stern, dispassionate about anything except for his research man. That little temptation invited him into the warmth of your precious core instead. It kept luring in, filling his genius mind with dreamy filth. Besides: it’s so much better to be buried within the tightness of your cunt than within the loneliness of his lab, untouched and craving you in his arms so desperately. No, he most certainly would prefer the first option.

“Relax,” sultry whisper teases your ear, while the free from fucking into you hand crawled up, preliminarily teasing the swell of each breast on its way to your throat — to be wrapped around it like a pretty collar, securely tight, not firm enough to actually hurt, but to rather keep you in place, adding to the thrill, to the longing.

He rarely fucks you like this. Viktor’s never been a huge fan of quickies — he’s a taster at heart, thorough and passionate — a sloppy kiss here, a teasing lick there — working you up even when it’s not needed anymore, for the sake of pure entertainment — more his than yours, to be completely honest, but he would never willingly admit to that.

He likes to savour you, like a fresh fruit one’s supposed to eat slowly — painfully so, even, memorising the flavour in explicit detail, letting it engrave into the taste receptors.

But there’s cyanide even in the finest peaches. Eat too many — and you’re incapable of consuming anything anymore, death plastered across your gourmand-face. It takes around fifteen peach pits to kill a curious starved soul, after all.

So tonight Viktor stays away from the cyanide. He’s had enough ravishing for now, turning a solid number of your previous intercourses into love-making. He’s eager, and he’s treating you like a quick meal — totally different from his usual ‘eat-you up-like-you’re-the main course’ demeanour. Not that you mind, of course. Dining hastily has its charms too.

“Keep your legs spread for me,” the gentle demand continues to sting your ear, and as much as you’d love to comply — you simply can’t, trembling knees doing you no favours, allowing no small mercies.

“Darling?” he repeats, the sharpness of his ‘r’ a scrumptious scratch to your brain, turning you into a mess — nearly irreparable, matching the one you’ve turned his desk into once he bent you over it, capturing tightly between his erection and the hard wooden edge, kindly depriving you off the worries about your clothes getting in the way. So thoughtful of him.

Rolled up skirt rests on your lower back, exposing the plumpness of soft hips — so grabable, they’re practically begging for his attention, but he’s reluctant to pull the long fingers out of you just yet. You’re clenching around them so perfectly, blessing him with the privilege of feeling your every twitch.

The presence of your underwear doesn’t concern you anymore — it’s wrapped around your ankles, pretty lace occasionally tickling the skin, reminding of the abrupt harshness Viktor’s sinewy hands had ripped them off you with. So brusque when it comes to fucking you from behind that a mere touch feels rougher than the deepest of thrusts. Your pussy might be able to take him without turning into a mess, but your sanity? You wish he’d left you some, just the tiniest bit to at least obey him easily.

But not all wishes were meant to be fulfilled.

You mewl something hopelessly illegible as your words drown in your own moan, lewd sounds of his fingers parting the swollen folds of an already spent cunt louder than your actual voice. And suddenly body language is not a figurative concept anymore.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the kind threat encourages hoarsely. “Or should I spread them for you?”

You can only squeeze out a nod. Viktor releases your neck with a sympathetic chuckle, and a deft hand grabs at your left calf, helping a trembling leg to step out of the damp lingerie, leaving it completely forgotten and lonely on the floor. You’ll collect it later: if only the dirty-minded inventor lets you, of course. Which was highly doubtful, since tucking your undergarments into a pocket of his dresspants started to really grow on him lately. The possibility of obstaclessly fucking you over another surface once you’re in private again is too tempting to be pushed away so fast.

You fall on his desk, cold wood a tough pillow to your flushed cheek. However the loving hand stroking at your flesh doesn’t move to proceed with complaisant ministrations on your right limb. The buckle of his belt jingles, unfastening, negligently joining your underwear on the floor. You quirk an inquisitive eyebrow, putting a rather pathetic effort into propping yourself up, searching for an explanation to his movements. But a rough palm falls on your lower back with a thump, firmly pacifying, practically smacking.

“Don’t move, dear,” he hisses, pulling his fingers out of you right before you got the chance to cum all over them. Scarily rigorous again. And vicious. But you don’t say that. It’s not like you’re able to talk coherently anyway.

Something — which you suspect to be his foot — persistently forces your legs out of the way, sprawling you more for his hungry gaze. The toe of his shoe roughly kisses each one of your heels, spreading you open, just as he’d promised.

“How rude!” you exclaim, voice dripping with fake resentment.

“Rude?” he laughs, and the next thing you feel is a caring peck on a shoulder, the sweet heat of his breath back where it belongs — teasing the shell of your ear. “Well, please excuse me this one whim, but can you really blame me? Besides, I suppose my… barbarism happened to be quite efficient.”

His tip is pressed against your entrance, slowly working its way inside, brushing a puffy labia on its way. You’re sure it’s leaking with precum for you already — it might be impossible to feel through the lavish wetness seeping out of you, but you know Viktor good enough to be certain of pearly bitterish liquid breaking out of his slit.

You don’t lack his fingers anymore — not when you’re about to be so much more palpably filled, the thickness of his cock irreplaceable with any amount of his phalanxes. An unsolved mystery for both of you. The one leading you to an embarrassingly primitive statement — whatever it is so special about him keeps you coming back for more.

“There was no need to be so ill-mannered. I could have spread my legs just perfectly fine,” you mutter a shameless lie, already expecting a protest.

“And from my expertise you weren’t exactly competent,” Viktor mocks with a tortuously handsome smirk, and you make a fatal mistake of looking over your shoulder right when his narrow hips thrust into yours, his length splitting you with a delicious burn. It takes away the remnants of your stamina. “Because trust me, I can tell when one’s incapable of standing on their own feet — let alone moving properly. Coming from an adept, figuratively speaking.”

He bends lower, warm dry lips pressed to the glistening sweat on your temple. He doesn’t rush to have his way with you anymore, hand found peace on your chin, tilting up, gently forcing a thumb into the open mouth. You greet it with a needy bite, a wordless plea to convince him to finally start pounding into you, to satisfy the body lusting for his steady thrusts.

“You’re quivering,” Viktor notes with a pensive hum. “Shall I proceed? You look like you’re in more need of a cane than I am, my darling. So wobbly.”

The plea-bite on his thumb quickly turns into a menacing one. Canine pierces the skin, earning a muffled against the mess of your hair ‘ouch’, demanding the heartily craved resumption.

“Am I pinned like this forever or are you done with the fucking drollery?”

A sultry laugh caresses your ear, and the throbbing cock inside you slips almost all the way out, leaving you clenching purely around the bulging tip.

“Save the swearing,” utters the pretty tempter.

A rough roll of his hips into yours. Ass bounces off his pelvis, the slap of skin against skin loud and resonant, mingling with your desperate gasp just perfectly. Has you seeing numerous sparks, mouth drops open in a breathless ‘yes’.

“That vocabulary is only appropriate for an orgasm.”

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

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agustdiv1ne · 10 months

Note

hii congrats on 3k you deserve it!!! i love your works so much you're one of my favorite writers here <3 can i request for the event yeonjun + howl's moving castle + fluff and smut ? love you <3

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, smսt

wc: 3.2k

details + warnings: minors + blank/ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked, yeonjun as howl (take these two pics for reference,, phew), mc as sophie (but no defining physical features are described besides silver hair), this takes place after the events of the movie aka flying castle era, light dom/sub dynamics, vv soft sex, oral (f receiving), they are so in love it's sickening honestly

notes: starting this event off strong with one of my ults paired with one of my favorite movies...*visibly quaking* and ilyt nonnie <3 you're the sweetest

humming to yourself, you amble down the cobblestone path of a town far from the one that you once considered home. your dress brushes against your legs as you continue forward, the soft fabric rustled by a cool, gentle breeze characteristic of spring. above, clouds drift about the cerulean sky, the sun's rays gentle and warm where they kiss your skin. you soon spot the door that you had first emerged from when you had set out to complete a handful of errands earlier in the afternoon.

your focus on the door falters at the mouth watering scent wafting from a nearby stall, something saccharine and warm. perhaps one more stop is in order, you find yourself thinking as you part from your original path. your feet lead you over to the older woman overseeing the small stand surrounded by other passersby nibbling at the sweets she sells. the crow's feet around her eyes appear when she smiles at you, her chin-length hair a similar silver hue to your own.

“hello, my dear,” she greets, her voice soft and worn with time. as she continues, her hands work in tandem to package some of the treats that had lured you over. “how may i help you?”

you offer her a polite smile while you request four of the small, half-moon pastries filled with molasses-rich sugar and chopped nuts. steam rises from the ones that have just finished cooking, ready to be packaged for awaiting customers. she nods at you, smiling, as she quickly wraps up and hands the fresh ones off to a woman and her two young children to your left. the youngest hums in delight once he takes a bite, and the three of them head off down the road.

“your hair is quite beautiful, dear,” she says, the twinkle in her eyes signifying the truthfulness of her words as you place the correct amount of coins into her awaiting palm. “i’ve never seen someone so young with such a shade. it suits you well.”

“oh, thank you! that is very kind of you to say,” you reply, your soft voice imbued with surprise. while most do not comment, you have witnessed firsthand the gawking and stares of judgement that your hair has garnered in your travels. the hue is a reminder of the curse you once endured, but the fond memories it brings forth far outweigh any negative reactions you have received thus far. warmth fills your chest at the compliment.

she wraps and hands you your own pastries seconds later. bowing your head slightly, you voice your gratitude before you realize she has given you one extra. you attempt to hand one back to her, the others tucked into the basket hanging off of your arm. “ma’am, i believe you may have given me one too many—”

“nonsense,” she winks, pushing your hand back towards you. “consider it a gift.”

guilt swirling in your stomach, you try to hand her another coin. however, she refuses, shooing you away from her stand with well-wishes of safe travels. with a final shallow bow and kind words in return, you depart from the stall, your steps light and springy.

embarrassingly giddy after the sweet interaction, you scurry down the street much quicker now, eager to return home. home — it is what you used to call your family's hat shop, but now...now, home is what you call yeonjun, his youthful apprentice, kai, calicfer, heen, even the witch of the waste. they are your home, and nothing could ever exceed the joy that that truth brings you.

you remove one of the pastries from your basket, unwrapping it to take a bite, eyes widening at the sweet, syrupy taste that coats your tongue. delicious is the sole word that comes to mind. the warm delicacy only serves to heighten your mood, and it is long gone before you even reach your destination. you are tempted to reach for another, but decide against it. a hand wraps around the knob and twists, and suddenly, you are no longer in the town, but soaring high above in yeonjun's — and now, too, your own — flying castle.

“i’m home!” you call as you enter, using the heel of your boot to swing the wooden door closed behind you. though he is no longer confined to the hearth, calcifer sits there anyway; it has become habit after his years bound to yeonjun.

“oh, look who’s decided to come back!” he exclaims, flames growing brighter at the sight of you. “yeonjun’s been sulkin’ in his room since ya left — i’ve been dyin’ of boredom out here!”

you breathe a laugh at calcifer’s dramatics, looking for the young boy who is usually around when you return. “where is kai?”

“out. more magical apprentice-y tasks to do, i guess,” he replies, inspecting you as you set the basket down with pursed lips. “why the long face?”

“i got him a sweet from a stall, and it’s still hot,” you hum, beginning to place the produce and other items that you purchased onto the table. “i suppose you will have to warm it up for him later.”

“do i look like some kinda servant?” he asks, indignant. he continues to ramble about his now free status and how he doesn’t need to listen to you while you continue to remove items from your basket, placing the four remaining pastries to the side.

huffing, you finally wave the firewood you had bought for him. “how about now?”

calcifer gasps at the sight, his small arms appearing to beckon you over. he scoffs, “alright, c’mon, i’ll do it. should’ve just said you had that first.”

you swiftly gather a decent amount of wood in your arms and head over to him, handing him one after another to greedily chomp down. with each one, he grows a bit larger, brighter, his glowing yellow center expanding.

“at this rate, i’ll start likin’ ya better than yeonjun,” the fire demon claims through a mouthful of lumber, snatching another piece from the now dwindling pile that you hold.

“you already do, just admit it,” you quip, grinning down at him.

“admit what?” an inimitably deeper voice asks. head whipping around, you find yeonjun leaning against the doorway, lips quirked up in a smirk with his arms folded across his broad chest. a loose, white blouse envelopes his torso and is tucked into primly tailored trousers.

“oh, nothing for you to fret over,” you tease, well aware that he likely heard the vast majority of the conversation. he tuts, striding over to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, his chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you present calcifer with the final piece of wood from your makeshift heap. the ends of his hair tickle your skin. he hums something low and quiet, pressing his soft, plump lips against your neck. calcifer, in turn, emits a nauseated heave.

“if ya gonna act all lovey dovey around me, i’ll just leave,” the ball of flame huffs, beginning to float in the air.

yeonjun chuckles, his arms pulling you tighter against him. “no need. i was meaning to steal this one away from you, anyway.”

“oh, great! just wonderful!” he sneers, sinking back down to the stone hearth and glowering at the man who leads you back towards the doorway. “spare my ears while ya at it!”

once you are alone, yeonjun wastes no time in pressing you against his silken bedsheets. he balances himself above you with a single forearm, his hips tucked between your parted thighs and hiked up dress. his lips waste no time in enveloping your own. slow, languid — he takes great care in savoring you, ensuring that you are as close as possible with his free hand cupping your cheek. his cheeky tongue slips into your mouth to curl against yours, causing you to exhale a muffled whine.

before you are able to slide your hands up his shoulders and around the back of his neck, he pulls away. staring up at him, you find chestnut eyes brimming with adoration. the sight of his disheveled hair and shiny, kiss-bruised lips sends flurries of butterflies through your stomach.

"“you taste so sweet, love,” he murmurs as he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. his words dissipate the heady fog creeping into your mind, and you reach up to grab his hand.

“the pastries!” you exclaim with wide eyes. attempting to sit up, you gently push him back onto his knees. you catch the furrow of his brow, the pout forming on his lips, and you move to explain. “i purchased pastries for us to try while i was out — the stall owner even gave me one more for free! isn’t that delightful?”

yeonjun blinks. hard. how you are whining into his mouth one moment and growing distracted by sweets the next is quite beyond him, but it nonetheless causes an endeared smile to pull at the corners of his lips.

“you should try it while they’re still hot! i’ll go fetch one for you,” you continue, mistakenly taking his grin for excitement. swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stand and begin to scurry over to his bedroom door, him rising from the bed going unnoticed.

despite your newfound goal, your lover does not allow you to stray too far, catching you by the waist and pulling you back against him. his fingers weave together against your stomach, locking you in his embrace, unable to wriggle away.

“don’t leave me,” he pleads, and though you are unable to see it from your position, his tone betrays the pout that he sports. “i feel as if we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“i’ve only been away for a few hours. you have survived much longer,” you giggle, reaching up to run your fingers through his onyx hair while he kisses up your neck, nipping the skin where you are most sensitive. you allow a quiet moan to escape, a shuddered breath following soon after when he does not halt his ministrations. attempting to pry his hands off, you say, “i’ll be just a minute, if you would let me go.”

whining in protest with his nose nuzzled against your jaw, his grip grows ironclad, the space between your bodies diminishing — and that is when you feel it: the hardness that presses snugly against your rear. heat floods your cheeks at the realization, and your struggle to escape comes to an abrupt end. “love, the pastry—”

“i’ll try it later. i’d much rather taste you at the moment,” he interrupts, voice low and breathy against your ear. the sheer desperation in his voice causes heat to pulse in your center.

he pulls you back to bed with ease, aiding you in your descent to the sheets. his hands bunching the skirt of your dress up reveals your stocking-clad legs, the fabric squeezing the meat of your thighs in a way that causes him to gulp. he slips his body between your legs, a position reminiscent of mere minutes ago, taking his time in running his hands up and down sensitive skin of your inner thighs, traveling dangerously close to your covered center. goosebumps raise beneath his fingers as a shiver slinks down your spine.

while his actions are drenched in admiration mixed with a soft sense of desire, it is too much for you to bear. overwhelmed with bashfulness, you hide your face in your hands. above you, your lover tuts, as if dissapointed with your choice. prying your hands away, he gathers your wrists and presses them into the bed above your head.

“keep your hands there,” he orders, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with need. “or else i will stop.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest at his order, but you nod nevertheless. he simpers at your obedience.

“that’s my girl.”

and suddenly the desire to melt into a puddle washes over you. the words bring you back to the first day that you had encountered him; when he had saved you from two sleazy soldiers, flew you over the town square and helped you to a balcony before disappearing. that day, you had no inkling of just how drastically your life would change. how fate has landed you here, below that very man, in love with him...you have expressed your gratitude to whatever it is above countless times.

truly, you never thought of yourself to be one for praise, but your time with yeonjun thus far has unlocked a myriad of preferences you had never given a second thought to before. as the words echo in your head, you bite your lip to muffle a tiny whine.

chuckling, he lowers himself onto his stomach so that he is eye level with your center. a finger skates over the seam of your panties, sliding up your slit to press against your awaiting bud. all the while, his plump kiss and suckle their way up your thigh until he's nosing at the crease of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds. pulling away, he helps you slip the thin, soaked fabric from you with teasing touches until you are bare from the waist down, sans your stockings.

at the sight of your glistening core, he licks his lips, taking in the way you clench around nothing. you feel terribly exposed, like a sculpture in the center of a gallery, unable to hide. he coos at your trembling state. ever so sensitive, his little doe, even after so long. holding you open, his gaze travels back up past your heaving chest to your flustered face.

“eyes on me, sweetheart. want you to watch me.” he locks his gaze with yours as he dips down to trace your folds with tongue, reveling in the way your brow furrows and your lips part, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a moment. yeonjun is nothing if not a tease, however; he continues to repeat the same movements until you are battling with the urge to snap your eyes shut and burrow your head into the sheets, until you are pleading with him for more. conceding, he dips down to your entrance only to moan at your taste. yes, this is what he has been craving all day. his tongue dips inside for a moment before he licks a bold stripe up to your clit, his eyes fluttering closed while he takes his time in working you up. you cry out as the tip of his tongue slides under the hood, toying with the tiny bundle of nerves with practiced confidence. his lips do not stray far behind, wrapping around and sucking hard, basking in the choked moan you emit in response.

but it's not enough.

he pulls away for a moment, hands squeezing your thighs. when you finally meet his gaze, he finds tears lining your bottom lashes, little dewdrops that cause your eyes to shine brighter.

“sing for me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft and hypnotizing. “as loud as you desire. when we’re in this room, no one can hear you but me.”

then, without waiting for your foggy brain to register his words, he dives back in with increased vigor, his lone goal being to make you fall apart, to cause you to let go those silly inhibitions that keep you as quiet as a mouse. he is more than pleased at the cries that follow.

while he loses himself in tasting you, you are falling apart. white-hot pleasure burns in the center of your stomach, a fire that grows hotter and brighter and causes you to grip the sheets harder with paled knuckles. it winds around you and spreads across the entirety of your being. with a mist-shrouded mind, all you can do is take what he provides, grinding against his lips. despite his warning from earlier, you reach down to thread your fingers through his hair and tug. this, evidently, sets him off; more beast than human, he devours you whole. he wants — no, needs your release. cum for me, darling, please cum for me — an unspoken plea, conveyed by his zealous tongue and lips, his grip on your thighs nearly bruising. and you listen, you listen so well despite his silence, the pleasure building and building and building and—

you shatter.

wailing, a supernova of pleasure overwhelms your body and soul, hot tears rolling streaming down your cheeks. your body no longer has a beginning nor an end — you feel as though you are floating above the bed rather than laying upon it, looking down at yourself, at the man betwixt your thighs, the care with which he extracts every drop of pleasure from your center, the patience he exudes while he delivers you back down to your true existence, back to him.

slowly, so very slowly, you return back to yourself, weary eyes fluttering open to find him hovering above you. his pupils hold profound concern, the rhythmic circling of his thumb against your cheek soothing to your mind. he's frowning, and you can see the gears spinning inside his head, wondering if he had finally gone too far.

“jjunie,” you whisper with an exhausted yet lovesick grin, pulling him close so that your foreheads press together — and with the melodic sound of your endearing nickname for him, the doubt, the guilt, festering deep in his chest vanishes. you spend a few moments gazing at each other, and you use the edge of your nail to trace his beauty marks while you bask in the presence of one another; just you and him, him and you.

leaning up, you capture his lips, something soft and sweet and unhurried that causes your heart to pound against your ribcage. the heart — it can be such a fickle thing, always changing, always setting its sights on shiny, new things. yes, it can be quite fickle, but nothing can dispute the undeniable truth of your eternal, immutable love for yeonjun, and his for you. you may change your routines and what you eat and the tunes you sing, but your love is forever frozen in time. “find me in the future,” is what you once exclaimed to him, and he had done just that — and so, so much more.

despite your exhausted mind, you find yourself craving more. the hardness of his cock presses into your thigh, and you grind slightly into him. he stares down at you, lips parted, silently inquiring if you are okay: are you sure you would like to continue? it's a wordless exchange, the way you reach down to stroke him over his trousers, the cheeky bite of your lip. with that, the mischievous grin he wore previously returns.

“you’re absolutely insatiable,” he laughs, returning his lips to your neck.

“oh, please. you were the one who wanted this in the first place,” you tease back before you’re squealing at the sound of ripping fabric. “yeonjun!”

“i shall mend it later,” he shrugs, eyes darkening as he greedily takes in your now bare bosom. “right now, however, there are much more pressing matters.”

perhaps the pastries can wait a wee bit a longer.

3k event masterlist | main masterlist

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #agust.nsfw #3k milestone celebration #💌 — jjun

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ihavemanyhusbands · 7 months

Text

The Wine of Your Blood

Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

As usual, thank you to G <3

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

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The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon.

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief.

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better.

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread.

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out.

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively.

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,” Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor.

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor.

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far.

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you.

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected.

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him.

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back.

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up.

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it.

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door.

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent.

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile.

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it.

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory.

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island.

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen.

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening.

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others.

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.”

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee.

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much.

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered.

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it.

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more.

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb.

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you.

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated.

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even.

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum.

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently.

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams. His eyes glinted in the half-dark, reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good.

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal. He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence.

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs. It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his.

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress.

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand.

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose.

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own.

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...”

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see, and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.

#midnight mass fanfiction #father paul fanfiction #father paul x reader #monsignor pruitt fanfiction #monsignor pruitt x reader #minors dni

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shogvnate · 11 months

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Wicked and white, love me in spite. bela dimitrescu x f! reader

bela dimitrescu oneshot

slightly angsty, wholesome, yearning.

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hi it's my first writing post pls treat me nicely :D, also feel free to send your requests! i write for the women (bc i'm sapphic) but if u wanna request the dudes it's alright too, just don't put too much hope on it being posted 😭

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━━ 🦇 ´ˎ˗

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Bela Dimitrescu never felt this way towards anyone.

As the oldest out of her sisters and the heiress to her family's winery business, she would take over a lot more of the dirty work than them, leaving barely any time behind to focus on herself.

She was always overworked, always pressured to be the best.

Her mother always tells her,

"Bela, you are your sisters' role model," Alcina blew smoke from her lips, unamused at the way she lost her composure over a little squabble with her younger sister, Cassandra.

"Yes, mother." Bela kept her head low, rubbing her upper arm slightly.

"Don't disappoint me."

Bela aimed to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress but still, she was never enough. She knew she wasn't. But when she saw you and how accepting you were, her walls melted like an ice sculpture by the dawn of spring.

She'd like to believe you were foolish for saving her, but deep down she knew it wasn't true. She was thankful. Thankful that despite the villagers' harsh words for saving a potential murderer of their wives and daughters, you stayed and nursed her back to health.

You were like an angel, much more than Mother Miranda would ever be, that's for sure.

As you watered your garden, she wondered to herself, could you look at her with that expression? A soft smile gracing your angelic features and eyes gleaming with nothing but love. No wonder your garden was filled to the brim with colorful flowers, even Bela can tell they were happy with you.

Could she also feel that?

Dubbed as a monster, mad, and even heartless; could someone like that feel love?

Or was it just wistful thinking?

A vampire and a human never end well anyway.

It's depressing, it's... mortifying how none of them got their happy ending; or at least as far as she's aware of.

She sighed, and when she did, you finally noticed her watching you by the wooden fences.

Molten honeyed eyes burned the sight of the way your face lit up into the depth of her mind. If you could look at her like that everyday, she's sure to become the happiest woman alive.

You approached her, still holding your watering can. She could feel her dead heart hammering against her chest for a few seconds before returning to its silence as she smirked at you. Her heart ached for you, a pain that she was so used to that she grew numb to it.

"How have you been, Bela?"

Your voice, god, your voice.

Bela can just melt into your arms right then and there, but she must stop herself. She wasn't like Cassandra who will keep anyone she's interested in near. She was the opposite, she didn't want you near, she didn't like how you made her feel this way, and yet she always found herself watching you.

Hopeless that she can never tell you how she felt without making herself feel vulnerable.

"I've been faring well." She replied, "How… How have you been?"

"I'm doing good now that you're here." You smiled.

The two of you soon fell into silence as you started to water your plants, now with her company.

It was agonizing, being by your side. Knowing full well that there are countless men and women in the village that can easily snatch you away from her. You were kind and gentle, anyone can find that charming. Heck, her sisters could even steal you away from her easily.

Cassandra was silver-tongued and shameless, she can lure anyone into her grasp as easily as she can murder them.

Daniela was unpredictable and wild, but she was loving, and she was everything Bela was not.

You noticed how she spaced out, reaching a hand out to wipe the dried blood from her lips. Your touch was gentle and it dragged her down to reality.

The reality where you told her that you'll wait for her to be sure of her feelings. You'll wait for however long it takes for her to say those three words. The reality where you belonged to her and she belonged to you despite no other promises being spoken.

She leaned into your touch, her yellow eyes refusing to look at you directly.

But she knew you understood. You understood her better than anyone, better than herself.

You guided her back to your porch where she laid her head on your lap as you sat down, her hood coming off to reveal her long, albeit a little tangled blonde locks.

You thread your fingers through it, detangling it and removing the dried blood clinging to the beautiful strands.

"Bad day?" You asked, closing your eyes.

"..." She shifted on your lap, confirming that she indeed had a bad day. You didn't ask anymore, you knew she didn't like sharing about things that bothered her and that was okay. She needed time and time you will give.

One of her flies landed on your hand, and you noticed it. You chuckled lightly as another desperately pulled your free hand towards Bela, likely her consciousness acting without her control.

You stopped threading your fingers through her locks and she had to stop herself physically from letting out a disappointed whine, you placed your hand on her waist instead and she froze.

"You can stay for however long you'd like, Bela."

You watched as she closed her eyes, another tender smile blooming across your lips, one with more affection than before. Her cold hand grabbed a hold of your warm one, squeezing it before her breathing slowed. Your fingers rubbed her knuckles silently, the contrast between your temperatures was like day and night, dead and alive; and yet you loved it.

You drifted into sleep along with her, perfectly comfortable and content now that she at least stayed and not ran off the second she showed you anything remotely close to physical touch.

Hours later you finally woke up, slowly opening your eyes and stretching your numb arms.

Your lap was absent from her cold body, but what you instead found was a stunning inflorescence of forget-me-not. Did she steal it from your garden? You chuckled.

The blues were easy on your eyes, and the meaning behind it in the flower language made you smile fondly.

‎

"Oh, Bela."

#resident evil #resident #evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #dimitrescu #x reader #reader #resident evil village x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x y/n #bela dimitrescu x you #bela resident evil #oneshot #cross posted on ao3

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thornybubbles · 1 year

Text

All I Ever Wanted: Yandere Santana x Reader

Note: I used a different method for writing this story than I normally do. I used a picker wheel to randomly choose a prompt from a list of Yandere Prompts from Tumblr and a list of JoJo characters I haven’t written for yet. The winning character was Santana and the winning prompt was “Yandere saves Darling’s life”. I may use this method again in the future.

Santana first encountered you when you snuck into the German base to aid Joseph in rescuing Speedwagon. He could not take his eyes off of you as you tended to the old man while Joseph tried to gain his attention with his buffoonery. Nothing the young Joestar said or did could pull Santana’s gaze from you as you spoke words of comfort to the frightened Speedwagon. The old man scolded you for tagging along with Joseph on such a dangerous mission, but he was relieved to have you there nonetheless. Watching you coddle the old man stirred something in Santana that he never felt before. Santana never considered humans to be especially attractive before, but there was something about you that lured him in. Maybe it was the gentle look in your eyes as you checked the old man over? Maybe it was the loving words you used as you spoke to him?

Santana found himself growing jealous over the attention the old man was getting from you. For him, affection was few and far between and usually limited to a half-hearted head pat from Kars or Esidesi whenever he did as he was told. As he got older though, they started to treat him less like kin and more like a pet. During training, he found himself unable to achieve the same kind of results that Wammu could, and Kars became increasingly frustrated with him. He once warned him that if he did not catch up with the rest of them, then he would be left behind. When he woke up thousands of years later and found himself alone, he knew that he’d been abandoned.

He fully intended to take all of his grief and anger out on every single human he came across, but seeing you, he decided to make an exception. Though anger began to simmer in him as he watched you with the old man. You hadn’t even looked at him when you came in. Did you have any idea how stupid it was to blunder into enemy territory and not be on guard? He could have killed you a thousand times over before you even made eye contact with him! Why were you wasting time with that old man when you should be paying attention to him?! Santana side-stepped Joseph, who was incessantly tapping his nose and saying ridiculous things, and began to advance on you and Speedwagon.

Your back was turned to the Pillarman. You were too busy trying to release Speedwagon from his restraints to notice as Santana drew ever closer to you. He was strangely quiet for someone so large. It wasn’t until Speedwagon’s horrified gaze locked on something behind you did you turn around and find yourself face to face with the Pillarman. You gasped and instinctively put yourself between Santana and the old man, trying to shield Speedwagon from the brute. Santana just stared down at you with an unreadable expression while Speedwagon begged for you to get away.

Slowly, Santana reached out for you, his massive hand looking like it was about to clamp down on your head.

“Don’t ignore me, you prehistoric prick!” shouted Joseph.

He placed a hand on Santana’s shoulder, trying to annoy the Pillarman enough that he would forget about whatever he was planning to do to you. When Santana didn’t react, Joseph sent a jolt of Ripple energy into the flesh of his shoulder to get the point across. It certainly worked because Santana’s eye twitched and the corner of his mouth turned up into a slight snarl. His shoulder sizzled from the attack but was already healing itself. Santana slowly turned to face Joseph who was bouncing from foot to foot holding his fists up as if he were in a boxing ring.

“That’s what you get for treating me like I’m just a mosquito flying around your ear!” Joseph said, grinning obnoxiously.

Santana was giving him a blank look but you could practically feel the rage boiling off of him. Before anything else could happen, though, the sound of several booted feet stomped up the corridor and a troop of German soldiers burst into the room. They lined up on either side of a very confused Joseph and took aim at Santana. Who the blazes were these guys? Reinforcements? From where? You thought Santana had killed all the soldiers in the base! You didn’t think much more about it because you realized that while the Germans had their guns locked on Santana, you and Speedwagon were right behind him. If they fired on the Pillarman, they would take you and the old man out, too! Joseph must have realized the same thing because he was already trying to wrestle the gun out of one of the soldiers hands. The others ignored Joseph’s antics and you heard someone yell, “FIRE!”

Thinking quickly you knocked Speedwagon out of the wheelchair and onto the floor where he would be out of range of the gunfire. Seconds later you found yourself swept up in a pair of muscular arms and held to an equally muscular chest. Thinking that it was Joseph that held you, you screamed as you felt the bullets tear into him. Over the racket you heard both Speedwagon and Joseph call your name. That’s when you realized that it wasn’t Joseph that had you in his grasp. You looked up and actually felt the blood drain from your face. Staring down at you with impassive red eyes was Santana. You felt your arms and legs draw up against your body in terror. You tried to speak, working your jaw and tongue to get words out, wanting to demand or even beg him not to kill you, but you could only manage to emit squeaks of fright.

You became vaguely aware of the sound of JoJo fighting with the soldiers and more gunfire. He was angry with them for nearly killing you and Speedwagon.

“What kind of morons just burst into a room and start shooting?!” He shouted as he kicked one of them in the back of the head, knocking off his helmet and sending the soldier to dreamland. It was only then that he spotted you in the arms of the Pillarman and froze, eyes widening in horror.

“My God! Joseph! That monster has her!” Speedwagon spoke up. He, too, only just now realized what was happening.

Seeing that JoJo had stopped attacking them, the soldiers returned their attention to Santana once more taking aim. You gasped and squinted your eyes closed, not wanting to see your demise coming. Joseph prepared to send a Hamon-fueled kick to the ground under the soldiers feet to knock them off balance but he never got the chance. Santana readjusted you so that he was cradling you with one arm. He raised his free arm upwards towards the soldiers, spreading his fingers at weird angles. Just like he had before, he used the bullets that had been absorbed into his body to return fire. Each bullet shot from his fingertips hit its mark, embedding itself into the heads of each of the soldiers. Not even the ones that Joseph knocked out were spared. Only Joseph remained unscathed. He looked around himself in confusion, wondering why he didn’t get shot, too. Santana lowered his arm, readjusting you in his hold once more. He glared at Joseph the entire time. He only spared him because he had unfinished business with the upstart primitive, but he could take care of that later. Joseph had gotten over his confusion and was now glaring back at Santana with equal ferocity.

“Put my friend down right now!” He demanded, pointing a finger at the ground as if to show exactly where he wanted Santana to place you.

The Pillarman’s lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl and he made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snake’s hiss and a dog’s growl. Joseph had the audacity to growl back at him, an action that you would have thought funny if it weren’t for the situation you were in. Santana moved slightly and Joseph seemed to know immediately what he was planning.

“Don’t you dare!” he warned the Pillarman.

Santana hissed/growled at him again, before suddenly taking off down the corridor that the German troops had just come from. The action took Joseph off guard. He was expecting the Pillarman to try to harm you in some way, not run off with you!

“JoJo! Stop him!” cried Speedwagon from where he still lay on the floor.

That was all he needed to snap out of his shocked state and into action. He took off down the corridor at full speed, desperately trying to catch up with Santana. The Pillarman’s powerful legs let him run far faster than any human though, and he was constantly maneuvering out of Joseph’s grasp as he tried to snatch you away from him. Santana went so far as to run along the walls and at some point, you even found yourself upside down as Santana began running on the very ceiling.

“Get down here, you cheater!” Joseph yelled up at him.

Joseph’s vision was suddenly obstructed as a green cloth fluttered down on top of him. During his escape from the observation lab, Santana grabbed a shirt off of one of the dead soldiers. While he and Joseph were glaring each other down, Santana had spotted a map of the base among the scattered files and papers that littered the ground after his earlier rampage. He only needed to glance at it once in order to commit it to memory. When he knew that he was coming upon an intersection, he waited for just the right moment to drop the shirt down on Joseph, obscuring his view as he darted off down the corridor that he knew led to some maintenance tunnels.

Joseph snatched the bloodstained shirt off of himself. He let out an angry shout when he realized that Santana had evaded him. That freak was a lot smarter than he seemed. There were three passages he could’ve taken: straight ahead, right, or left. He obviously didn’t keep going straight or Joseph would still be able to see him. So that left either the left or the right. Joseph debated on which way to go for a moment. In comics, the bad guys almost always take the left passage to get away from the good guys. Maybe that was the case in real life, too? He growled in frustration. He didn’t have anything else to go on, so left passage it was. He ran down the passage calling your name, hoping that the monster hadn’t hurt you. Unfortunately, real life isn’t like comic books and Santana had taken the right passage.

You were grateful when Santana began running upright again. Being upside down for so long was starting to give you a headache. You lost sight of Joseph hours ago. You tried calling out for him once, but Santana gave you such a glare that the words died on your tongue from sheer fright. But you were beginning to wonder just how long this damned corridor was. And just how long could this guy run? He’d been running for a while now and wasn’t even breathing hard!

Santana darted down a flight of stairs that seemed to lead to a basement and storage area. He slowed down to a normal walk and began searching for something. Finally he came to a set of chained up doors with a lot of writing around it. You couldn’t read German so you had no clue what it said. He pulled the doors open, snapping the chains as if they were made of paper. He then stepped inside of the room and closed the doors behind him. The lighting inside of the room was dim, but you could make out the shapes of a desk and some machines that you didn’t recognize. Santana walked to a corner of the room and plopped down on the ground, hiding in the shadows. He held you in his lap and stared at the doors, watching to see if JoJo would burst through them at any moment. After a moment, you felt him relax and he let out a quiet sigh. Then, he turned his gaze on you.

The dim light made him look especially eerie and you noted that his red eyes seemed to have a bit of a glow to them.

“Uh… hi…” you said awkwardly.

“You did not thank me.”

You blinked up at him. You had only heard him say one or two word sentences before, and usually he only seemed to repeat what others said to him. He may have said something to JoJo before, but you were too busy worrying about Speedwagon to pay much attention.

“Thank me properly.” he said. His voice was quiet and calm, but you could definitely hear the demand in it when he said that.

“I… what? W-what do you w-want me to d-do?” You stammered. “I don’t even know w-what I’m t-thanking you for.”

Santana gave you an insulted look.

“I saved your life.” he stated in a gruff, clipped tone. “The other humans would have killed you. I prevented it. Now thank me properly.”

Oh well, now you’ve made him angry.

“Thank you…?” You said lamely, not sure what he wanted.

Santana huffed and rolled his eyes. You were unfortunately as thick-skulled at any other human, in spite of your kind, gentle nature. You would have to be trained apparently. He grabbed your hand, causing you to flinch. He then guided your hand to the top of his head and moved your hand around in a motion that made it seem like you were ruffling his hair. Once or twice your palm scraped against the two small horns that jutted from his skull causing you to wince. You were surprised at how soft his hair was though. For someone that came from a time when hair care products weren’t exactly readily available yet, it seemed very healthy. After a while, he let your hand go but made sure you kept rubbing his head. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into your hand. The action caused you to blush.

Stop. Bad guys are not supposed to be cute. You mentally scolded yourself.

After a few minutes of rubbing the top of his head, you were starting to feel a little awkward.

“Okay… good Aztec Demi-God…” you said in a nervous tone and slowly pulled your hand away from his hair. When he didn’t immediately force you to start petting him again, you relaxed a little.

“I guess it’s safe to assume that you aren’t going to kill me then?” you asked, feeling a little braver.

Santana shook his head.

“No.” he said, a sleepy look in his eyes.

You glanced down at the floor longingly.

“Any chance of you putting me down?” You asked, feeling brave enough to push your luck.

Instantly, the sleepy look was gone from his eyes and he tightened his hold on you.

“NO!” he all but roared.

You cringed in his hold and didn’t say anything else.

Well it was worth a shot. You really hoped JoJo found you soon, before this situation got any more uncomfortable.

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 11 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part

Summary: Natasha is falling in love with someone she can’t be with, someone who might not even exist.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1829

Warnings: Death, mentions of blood, talk of depression, Nat is not really taking the best care of herself.

A/N: I don’t know how this one will go down. It’s a bit different to my usual style, but 3rd person and present tense felt better for this, so that’s what I’ve gone with. Please leave a comment/reblog and let me know what you think! :) (oh also the Russian is from google translate, so it may be wrong)

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Natasha had been little more than a toddler when she first heard it. The voice that comforted her on her deathbed, a figure that ebbed and flowed between invisibility, but whose presence she had always felt. They had tended to her, comforted her with the first gentle touch she had ever known, and treated her with a care the Red Room had never shown.

Natasha assumed the figure was her nurse, pulling her from the verge of death just to send her back to the torture of her training. But she saw them again, over and over through her youth, had conversations and shared jokes, talked through her days, and lived to make her friend laugh. Looking back she knew the friend, the figure whose care and comfort lured her back into life, had been no older than a child themself, just a friend that no others could see.

These days, Natasha was too old for imaginary friends. If she admitted that she still heard hers, she would be taken out of the field immediately and sent for a psych eval, which is why she didn't tell anyone. She's fine. She'll manage. She doesn't need a psychologist.

"Maybe you do," the voice says. Natasha groans, she doesn't need an imaginary voice to judge her too. "You're talking out loud," it continues, "and you're bleeding out. Again."

"And I don't need judgement when I'm at my weakest."

"That's the only time I can offer you judgement. It took a lot of energy to keep you living past 5, you know, so stop courting death."

"Maybe death wants a girlfriend," Natasha smirks, before doubling over in pain, her hand shooting to grasp the knife slash in her side. But blood still poured through her fingers, dyeing her hand the shade of crimson she was all too familiar with.

"Alright," the voice says, irritation bleeding through, "alright, fine." Before her, the figure started to form, not quite the same as in her childhood, this was someone her own age, and yet, as she studies their face, the similarities emerge. The same concerned eyes, the same teeth just visible through the same parted lips, the same gentle touch.

"You grew up," Natasha smiles, reaching out with a weak hand to grasp her friend's arm. Their greyish skin flickers at her touch, seeming more opaque the longer her hand brushes it.

"So did you," they smile back. Swiftly, they reach behind them and pull the bed sheets from their place; Natasha's hand falls to the floor and her head falls back against the wall. The figure hurries, offering Natasha a section of the sheet to bite down on, which she compliantly does, before the rest of the sheet is wrapped tightly around her waist. Natasha's pained groan is muted by the bedding, but she's been through worse, both people in the room know it. "Grow up a little more before your date with death, alright? They don't need you so young."

"We'll see how today goes before I can make that promise."

"Your friends are on their way, life isn't done with you yet."

"What about you? Are you going to go again?"

"I can never stay here long, but you hear me in your dreams, don't you? You'll find me there."

"Will you stay until they come?" Natasha pleads, but the figure before her is already fading; she can make out every detail of the cabinet that their body previously obscured. "Do you even have a name? What do I call you?"

"You may call me whatever you wish. You'll learn my true name one day."

"жизнь. Life. Because you've been saving me since I was born, and because you're not done with me yet. I won't let you be." Natasha sees Life smile, the expression seeming to linger one moment longer than the vanishing body.

The door bursts open and Natasha blinks, wiping away the last trace of her saviour from her sight. But then Clint is rushing in, and he's talking to her, asking her questions, but she's not listening. Natasha's gaze never wavers from where Life once was. Clint finally gives up and carries his friend to the jet outside, she can be treated there, her wound mended. She will live.

————————————————————————————————–

Late nights soon became the highlight of Natasha's day. She hurries to bed each night and drags herself lethargically away from it each morning. Her saviour had confirmed it, that the voice was more than just her imagination, it was her childhood friend, her guardian, her Life.

She sees them in her sleep each night, talking about things beyond her future and her past. Natasha talks about her day, her thoughts and dreams, her aspirations. Her companion says little, never telling her their name or what they are, but constantly engaging her in teasing conversations, with jokes that only come from a lifetime of friendship.

Natasha never wants to wake up. Her teammates notice this. The Black Widow, once renowned for taking any mission without complaint and finishing it no matter what, now grumbling if a mission cut into the night or, even worse, was scheduled all through the night. A lack of sleep never used to bother Natasha, but now she couldn't go a day without it.

She acts differently, but Natasha remains a spy. She hears what the others whisper about her when they think she's not around. They talk of depression and trauma, of fear and regret. They place bets on who can take her to therapy.

But Clint disagrees. "He should know," Natasha thinks. He'd seen her at her worst, when she'd just been freed from the Red Room. It should have been her happiest time, but that institute was all she'd known. Without it she had no purpose, no expectations of life, and, worst of all, she'd lost the voice of her nurse, that first saviour who taught her what it was to be kind. Natasha had fought the therapist then. She knows Clint won't try to bring her back, he already knows she doesn't need it, and she won't take it if she does.

He disagrees with the others. "No," he says, "don't you see her excitement in the evenings? That's not a lack of energy, that's love. And I'm going to find out who to." True to his word, a few days later Clint confronts Natasha, but what could she say?

"Yes, I fear I'm slowly falling in love with the disembodied voice in my head. No, I'm certain they're real because otherwise you would have entered that cabin and found me dead, not wrapped up in a bedsheet."

Nothing Natasha could say would make that sound believable, and even Clint would force her into therapy for expressing that.

"I'm falling in love," Natasha says instead, talking slowly to stop herself from slipping up on her words, "with somebody I can't have."

Clint's expression morphs into sympathy, and he opens his mouth to speak before Natasha cuts him off. "That is the last I want to speak of it, so go tell the others you were right, and forget the rest of what I said."

Clint nods, then walks off, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts. She's not sure she enjoys it anymore, Clint's pestering would have been annoying, but now she has to face her own acceptance. She said she was falling in love, but that wasn't true. Natasha knows she is already in love, and there is nothing more she can do but continue to talk to her жизнь.

————————————————————————————————–

The sky is foreboding, and the rock ahead of them looks deadly, but the return of half the population depends on Natasha and Clint climbing to the top. So climb they did. "Natasha," your voice says. The assassin startles, muttering "жизнь?" before she can catch herself. Clint turns to her and his eyes soften as he watches. Unbeknownst to Natasha, he had heard her midnight conversations, and the nickname she had given her love: ‘Life’.

"Are they here?" he asks her. Natasha nods. "No wonder you couldn't track them down. They project their voice into your head and follow us to Space's version of the middle of nowhere. That's not normal, Nat, what are they if they're capable of that?"

"You tried to find me?" The voice teases in Natasha's mind. The assassin blushes, a rare sight that has Clint turning away in fear of accidentally intruding.

"You don't speak about yourself, жизнь. I don't know what you are, I hardly remember what you look like, and you think I wouldn't try to find out more on my own?"

"The day you know will not be a good day, but I fear it is coming soon."

"It will be worth it all, anything that happens."

"Not for me," the voice says gravely, "I don't want the day to come."

Any reply Natasha could form was cut off when a spectral figure approached. The assassin's heart soars high, to begin with, convinced it is the figure she so rarely sees. It explains why their voice is so much louder on this planet after all. But the hood lowers, and a red-stained skull comes into view. It reminds Natasha of her own blood, the sight of it painting her saviour's sickly grey skin a lively shade of crimson red. One of them must jump, the spectre explains. A sacrifice. Natasha and Clint wouldn't be getting out of this together, as they had been for so many years. This time, one of them had to die.

————————————————————————————————–

"You're here," Natasha concludes out loud. This wasn't a coincidence, her saviour rarely appeared while Natasha was fully conscious, only at sleep or near death. And this time, they were louder than they had ever been.

"Yes," the voice answers, slowly, as if they don’t want to speak the rest, "and I wait at the bottom. But don't rush to meet me."

Finally, it clicks. The appearances weren't random, they followed a distinct pattern. In only one scenario was her "Life" always present, and if luck went her way, the scenario would re-enact for the final time. At that moment, she knows who they are, who she has been in love with all this time. Natasha doesn't falter, nor does she heed her saviour's advice. Natasha jumps. She falls. And she dies.

Clint sobs from above, knowing that losing in combat has cost him his best friend. But below, a whole different scene plays out. Natasha stands up, eyes instantly locking on the cloaked spectre before her. Beneath the hood, Natasha makes out a skeleton face, and boney hands peek out from the cloak's billowing sleeves. Looking closer, Natasha sees past the outfit, past the skeletal structure, and looks into your eyes, finding in them the ever-present concern that had saved her so many years ago.

“So you see me again.” They sigh, but to Natasha, their voice is a familiar comfort. “Hello, Natasha… My name is Death.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #mcu #ikan writes #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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masonmiamor · 1 year

Text

Three words…

Summary: Mason sees you before leaving on WC duty and says the long awaited three words.

Mason swallowed hard, seeing your figure walking out his bathroom. Your jeans are tight around your hips and ass, and his adored black Nike hoodie around you, your makeup is simply done, and with a slick bun on top. He followed his eyes on you as you were folding and putting away clothing into the dresser. Always wanting to help even if it was the little things.

He couldn’t begin to think how much he would miss this while he would be away. Waking up tangled in his sheets, seeing your early smile and how you blush, hiding yourself in the crook of his neck, when he notices. Sitting down in his lap while drinking coffee in the morning, or the small gentle kisses when preparing breakfast.

Midday after cleaning, sitting down, and watching Disney movies while bickering about which one is better. Then, have a snack before deciding what to make for dinner. You hadn’t yet moved in, but spending this much time with him, being this comfortable, made him want to ask in a heartbeat.

There would be times when you would be reading a book, a wine glass in your other hand, watching how you would attentively read and take sips, in your own little world, to escape reality. He knew he loved you when you came over for the first time and took care of him when he felt a bit under the weather. Making sure he would be eating correctly and his fever and cough weren't out of control. Despite him being sick, you shared your first kiss, him whispering along your lips.

“Be mine Y/n… I can’t get enough of you, and how lucky I am to have you…”

Mason knew of your last relationship, how afraid you were to fall in love, just to be treated like a plate for a second table. Afraid that you would overtalk, or express and then make them feel bored. The past was always been patient and caring, but not getting the same energy back. Them making you feel useless or pathetic at what you do, them thinking always so low of you, despite all in the end you just wanted to be cared for and loved.

Mason knew exactly how to make you happy, the small cuddles on your back, gifting you flowers anytime he came over, and making sure you had your favorite salty and sweet snack. You were unsure in the beginning, but the small kisses along your knuckles drew you in more. His brown eyes lured you into a world you never expected. But in the end, you couldn’t refuse this person who was meant for you.

Mason was very fond of you especially around his family, sharing the smallest jokes around them warmed his heart. His sister and you instantly grew very close, bonding over girly stuff. Both of you sharing whispers and giggles with his mom, meant so much more. Seeing the sight, knowing you have the courage and respect, he couldn’t be more thankful. His adored niece is already calling you “Auntie Y/n” while forcing you to make princess-shaped cookies.

Your first argument was heartbreaking, you distanced yourself, shut him out, making him suffer as you weren’t around anymore. You remember feeling hopeless when he wasn’t in shape for his match with Chelsea. Both of you cried in each other's arms after he finally came over apologizing for being a dick, promising not to repeat the mistake, and rather communicate.

The little notes left in his car, training bag, microwave, bedroom mirror, and even on his coffee machine, reminding him of how strong and handsome he is. His teammates teased him, but them being happy as they could see he had found the one.

“Mase?” his attention adverts to you, where he flushes when you walk towards him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking up and smiling when you rub your hands along his cheeks and then place a small kiss on his forehead. A small yet intimate gesture he adores. “You okay? You seem off?”

He nods then pats his lap for you to sit, which you do, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, your thumb softly rubbing his clothing. “What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”. You laughed at his concerned tone, “You make it seem like you're dying or leaving me forever,” you joked, “Since you’re asking, probably do some uni work, go workout, visit your family and mine as well, laundry, finally finished my DIY bookcase, when I get lonely in my flat come here, just to be closer to you…” you whispered.

Mason hummed, pleased with your answer, “Why do you ask?” you said wondering where the question popped all of the sudden. He sighed, he didn’t want to go, not without saying those three words, or yet, leave you in general. “Just wondering…” you rolled your eyes at his dismissive tone.

“Just tell me-”

“I love you Y/n,” he blurted out, looking up to see how your jaw hit the floor, surprised in a way. He panicked when you didn't say anything, starting to regret and become disappointed in himself, but when he saw your cheeky smile he chuckled, letting out a pant of air. “You love me?” you couldn't help but ask. “I love you, you're the best thing that has happened to me…” he leaned his forehead onto yours.

“I love you, Mason Mount, from the moon and back.”

“You love me?” he teased, smirking when you realized what he was doing. “Sometimes,” he gasped pretending to be hurt, tickling your sides, his heart warming at the sound of your giggle, and pleading to stop. “I'm going to miss you so much when you're gone,” you confessed stroking his hair back, trying your best to not cry. “But I'm so proud of you, always. Your childhood dream becoming true and doing it with the people that mean a lot to you,”

“Just hearing your support means so much. I have to admit, since it is just us two, I'm a tad bit nervous and scared… I haven't had the best start at Chelsea, and all of this is just hitting differently,” Mason revealed. “Southgate picked you because you know how to leave your mark in the England squad, he knows you have the talent and a huge passion for what you do. You’re one of a kind, not something anyone should take for granted,” you encouraged. “He knows you have the strong mindset to play in this World Cup,” you added.

He kissed your lips, deepening it more when he pulled your head closer with his left hand. Your hand rested on his bicep as you continued to kiss, and it remained there when you pulled away for air. “Make all of us proud and bring it home!” you cheered, he chuckled at your cheery tone, placing a couple of kisses along your neck and cheek.

“God, I love you Y/n, so damn much.”

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Hello, could I request a Morpheus x reader, where reader is an immortal like Hob and has been friends with Dream( and has helped him through some trouble from time to time) but through the years reader developed feelings for dream (but he doesn't know that) but can't confess (thinking they are not good enough for him) and just watch helplessly as Dream falls in love for every other being, until one day this recent lover of his was only using him to gain power, reader found out about it and confronted them (and was about to have a smackdown), until dream intervined and fought with reader. Reader tried to warn him but he didn't listen and banished reader from the dreaming, before reader leaves the dreaming for good she finally confessed to dream and was out of sight.

Soon after, Dream realized that reader was right and tried to find them and found them living with Hob (as best friends), confronted reader, they talked (realization of feelings ensues)and they got together.

Angst and fluff please, I recently read your Morpheus fic I love the subtlety and gentle showing of affection, I'm sorry also that this message is so long. Have a great day/night ✨

A/N: misread it and wrote an ending where the Corinthian tries to shoot his shot but I fixed it and all is well in the end!! The thought is still there tho

"Snooping" - Morpheus x Immortal!Reader

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.1k Sandman-inspired playlist

London, autumn of 1763

Attending a ball at your love's fiancee's home sounds like a black comedy theatre play until it becomes reality - a reality you had, unfortunately, found yourself in. To make the matter slightly worse, Morpheus was indirectly the reason for throwing the party in the first place: one of his nightmares escaped and the current plan was to lure them into a closed space and then catch or whatever it was Morpheus had in store for them. Truthfully, you felt better not knowing exactly what he was going to do with the escapee. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.

In a funny way, Morpheus treated you like a god - came to you only when he needed something but you never minded that. He was great company, always making your endless life a little more exciting as days turned into bland centuries. As a word of explanation, it should be said that through "exciting" you should understand "with consequences possibly detrimental to all of humanity". And that one fateful ball wasn't anything else:

It was fairly recently that Morpheus had learned about one of his nightmares going rogue and leaving Dreaming on their own accord. His biggest concern seemed to be the fact that no one could tell him even approximately how long the nightmare had been gone. That, in turn, suggested the existence of a whole different can of worms - it was possible to leave Dreaming without his knowledge. No one's knowledge, for that matter. There was no way Morpheus could even guess the extent of the damage his own creation had caused in the Waking World, which was partially why he was all the more unnerved that night. His patience wasn't limited, it was completely gone. As much as you disliked his tense attitude, you had to admit that his sense of responsibility was to be applauded. He had to be a good king...

"Are you sure about this?" you asked him as you inconspicuously looked around the hall. The problem with nightmares, dreams and Morpheus himself was that all of them generally looked like humans. It was impossible to just vaguely look around and point at the right person. Additionally, the more time the wanted nightmare had spent in the Waking World, the more seamlessly assimilated he'd become, making it virtually impossible to tell them apart from the regular crowd unless they had a characteristic trait in their appearance that could hardly be hidden.

"Do you not trust me?"

"You're a few centuries and near-death experiences too late to be asking this. I'm just not very fond of a rogue nightmare going berserk at a banquet for so many important people or us getting into a brawl with the wrong person. This can end in an international disaster."

"Which is why we have to be thorough and quick."

Morpheus had gotten you into many more dangerous larks throughout the years but weirdly enough, it wasn't something one could simply get used to - each adventure was filled with so much supernatural it could hardly be considered anything else than a fever dream. No matter how much you've talked to him, his domain remained a great mystery to you and so did all things connected with it. Perhaps, that was part of his charm.

"Lady Ruth and I will look on this floor. You have to go upstairs."

"You want me to do some snooping?" you said with a small grin on your face. His expression remained unmoved - your continuous effort at making him use slang wasn't amusing. "Sleuthing?"

"Infiltrate."

"One day I'll get you to say 'snooping'."

"I will not."

"We have a lot of time." Morpheus sighed at your words and was about to leave your side to join Ruth who was chatting with some of her guests but you grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to stop him for a moment. His face looked strict when he looked at you but he was far from reprimanding you. "Just be safe, alright?"

"You need not worry about me."

You let go of his jacket and Morpheus marched away to play the greatly inconspicuous role of a loving fiance. His arm shamelessly wrapped around her waist and had she not been the lady of the house, guests surely would have pointed out the social faux pas. Ruth, however, remained no less affectionate and leaned her head against him. It's vital to notice that Morpheus was not an affectionate man in any way and so such a show of intimacy felt even more serious. He stood there, among the Kingdom's elite and looked like he was in the right place: similar clothes, proud poise and seriousness characteristic of people who had a little too much to lose. The fact that he fit right in was a low blow to you, mainly because you knew you didn't. Morpheus and you belonged to completely different worlds and there was no point in disputing that. As simple and crude as it may sound, he was just the wrong person at the right time for you. Perhaps, that's all it takes for a disaster.

"Put on your adult shoes and get over with it," you whispered to yourself. The sooner you find the rogue nightmare, the sooner you can leave this place and dwell on your heartache in comfortable and befittingly pathetic loneliness.

Pushing pasts lords, counts and viscounts you made your way up the stairs. Thankfully, the string orchestra was loud enough to deafen the creaking of the wooden contraption. It was one of those rare occasions where not fitting in was a blessing in disguise - no one was paying attention to you. Should anyone ask about you, most of the guests would simply shake their heads in confusion. Being invisible was something you had grown quite used to.

Most of the rooms on the first floor were locked but it could hardly be surprising - Ruth didn't want guests wandering around her house. Despite the mild disappointment at your detective work being cut short, you were thankful that you didn't have to waste your time and possibly let the nightmare escape. Trying each pair of doors, you had finally found one that opened but what you saw inside was nowhere near your expectations.

"What in God's name is this madness?" you said to yourself as you looked around the room.

Quite obviously, there was no nightmare in sight but another horror had welcomed you. There was a giant map of the world with certain locations marked in red paint. Next to those circles were pinned articles and charcoal drawings of people you didn't recognize. In front of the map was a table littered with random items and an open leatherbound notebook.

Skimming through the book, you found yourself strapped for words. It was something like a diary but with notes on Morpheus, his habits, people he knows and every instance the author watched him use his powers. Granted, their analysis was quite thorough and proved the maniac an intelligent person.

"Wait a goddamn minute," you whispered to yourself. Reading again through the witness 'miracles' Morpheus had committed made you feel like they had something in common. Some of them you had seen yourself and if your memory wasn't failing you, there was a third person present during those events. "Ruth..."

Hurriedly, you went through the rest of the notebook, still in disbelief at your discovery. It felt almost too out of character for the Ruth you knew to do something like this. Maybe that's why her scheme had gone undetected for so long... To your own horror and utter disgust, she had even prepared notes on you:

"Sceptical. Convince Morpheus first?" "Difficult to intimidate. Try coddling up to them." "Follows him around when they're together. Friends or unrequited love?"

"Oh my, you shouldn't be here, dear." Ruth's voice made you turn around in panic. It was like a scene from a thrilling book where the hero finally stands face-to-face with the villain. Unfortunately for you, good authors rarely make such confrontations beneficial for the protagonist. "I must have forgotten to lock this room beforehand. Come on, the mare is surely not hiding in here."

"Have you ever wondered what's going to happen when he finds out?" you asked. You could feel your whole body becoming instantly warm as blood boiled in your veins. For the first time since you've met her, Ruth's stereotypical lady-like attitude irritated you beyond comprehension: you knew it was just a sleazy facade. "Because he's not stupid, although plays that role very well, I admit. If you want this masquerade to fly, I'd suggest you already start working on a sobby explanation."

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" she continued playing her role.

"Oh, drop this facade, Ruth. You and I both know your relationship with Morpheus is only transactional even if he doesn't know about that."

"You know nothing about it either." It was strange to hear her speak naturally and not in a pretend damsel in distress voice. "It's not like you have proof, do you? Those notes?" She vaguely pointed at the desk behind you. "Well, perhaps his fiancee has missed him dearly and wanted to know if she can contact him more often."

"Do you honestly think he's going to believe that?"

"Think about this yourself. Would the great Morpheus, king of Dreaming believe his soon-to-be-wife or a less-than-presentable circumstantial acquaintance who has been pining for him for centuries? What, did you think you're hiding your affections well? A blind fool could tell you love him and luckily for me, he's worse than that. Perhaps it's better for you that you've never told him. You've spared yourself utter humiliation."

You didn't quite know what Devil had possessed you but you suddenly found yourself smashing Ruth against the wall. Your fingers were digging into the expensive material of her dress, making the material stretch out and crumple. Instead of a grimace or a wince, a grin appeared on her face. You were playing right into her game.

"Did I strike a nerve? Good. Tell me, what do you bring to the table? Centuries of moping?"

"I don't give a damn why or for what you're trying to use him, you tasteless wench" you were gritting through your teeth with a mere inch separating your faces, "but be sure I will make him see you for what you really are. You worthless, lit-"

"Hold your tongue. I have seen enough."

You whipped your head around only to see Morpheus's brooding physique. His normally expressionless face was now reeking of contempt with the way his cheeks were raised.

"Oh, love! Thank the Lord you've come!" Ruth exclaimed as she got out from your clutches and run towards Morpheus. In an irritatingly protective manner, he quickly pushed her behind himself. "They threw themself on me, accusing me of all sorts of wickedness. Jealousy has made them into a monster! Yes, jealousy, my love. They've told me of their affections themself!"

"You... I have considered you a friend but you're just a treacherous beast."

"You can't be serious about this, Morpheus! Just look around!" You made a vague circular move with your arms. "It's a whole dossier on you and your power. Not something a loving wife-to-be does in her downtime, is it?" You stepped closer to him but Morpheus only further pushed Ruth behind him. "Come on, you know me like no one else. I've never lied to you, never had a reason to."

"I will hear no more of your poisonous words. You have meddled enough in my affairs. If you wish ill will on my future wife, there is no place for you by my side. I shall not see you in Dreaming either."

As much as it hurt, it was the last chance to save an ounce of your dignity and walk away without further driving a wedge between you two. In some way, you had expected that moment to come one day, when Dream has to choose between his royal duties and you. It simply would have been nicer if you had any sort of indication that this fateful day is approaching.

"My heart breaks for you Morpheus, for how blind love has made you. How you'd rather set the world aflame before a blemish fell on the one you love. I understand it. Even your harsh words that I do not deserve can not make me hate you, I can't even bear the thought of holding a grudge against you, Morpheus. Because I understand. Because I'd rather set the world aflame."

"Leave," he gritted through his teeth.

It was the last thing Morpheus has ever said to you - or so you thought.

London, winter of 2023

Hob was kind enough to let you live with him, the two of you bonding over the rollercoaster your lives had become after meeting the King of Dreams. With time, you had grown quite attached to him and ever since leaving Morpheus behind, Hob and you had spent decades pretending to be closely-knit siblings. Somehow, people never quite questioned your lack of similarities.

The inn wasn't in a busy area, so you had become used to rather moderate traffic on a daily basis. Outside of lunchtime, not many people visited the bar but it was just enough to keep the business afloat without raising any suspicions. It was the end of the day, which meant making a list of products you needed to order. Hob had a habit of sitting at a table in the corner, beside the bar counter, while preparing the said list - close enough to you to hear you counting all the ingredients he should order.

You were cleaning the counter as well as checking the shelves and cupboards for any alcohol you were close to running out of. "We're low on spiced Captain Morgan, Hob, so mark that... "your voice hung as you automatically looked towards the entrance upon hearing the bell ring," down," you finished quietly. "What are you doing here, Morpheus?"

He looked different than the day you had met him. Although he was an ageless entity, cursed to live until the end of the universe, Morpheus appeared older but more so mentally than physically. His skin was more grey than simply pale and his eyes appeared more stern and lifeless than ever before. He was wearing a long, heavy black coat - something strikingly different from the embarrassing rococo fashion of the 18th century.

"I have come to make amends," he stated.

You didn't answer right away. For a moment, you simply stared at him, perhaps partially in disbelief that this reunion was actually happening and out of his will. Despite his change in appearance, a certain tactless pragmatism still stuck to him. "You're not even going to ask?"

"Excuse me?"

"Two hundred and sixty years we haven't talked and you show up expecting me to listen and forgive you but you refuse to even ask how I've been?"

"How have you been?" Surprisingly, he didn't show defiance. The past two hundred years really must have changed him.

A scoff of disbelief left your mouth. "Awful, miserable, not good at all but Hob is a lovely person to be around. If you think that saying 'I'm sorry' is going to fix anything, you're so wrong I lack the words to express it."

"Are you angry with me?" He sounded... surprised. Maybe he really did believe that with humans 'time heals wounds'. What an awful saying that was! Time, at best, makes one forget the pain or even the existence of the wound. The scar, however, never forgets the wound it once was and it refuses to disappear simply because its owner hadn't scratched it open in a while.

"I was once. Over two hundred years ago. Now I'm just hurt and disappointed. I thought we trusted each other. Have you ever counted how many times I nearly died while helping you out?"

Morpheus stared at you in silence and you could already tell he did know. He kept count.

"I do not expect you to forgive me, although I do wish for that."

"Believe me, Morpheus, I want that too. But I have suffered enough, don't you think?"

"I was wrong."

"About?"

"About Ruth. You were right and I refused to listen. I was too blind to see through her lies and schemes. I never should have doubted your loyalty and honesty."

"And what does that enlightenment have to do with me?" For someone who explicitly came to apologize, he was very good at avoiding commitment to that resolution.

"I'm... sorry," he spat out. As a king, he wasn't quite used to making apologies but if he so desired to commune with humanity it was high time he learns to.

"I told you that this isn't going to fix anything."

Morpheus sighed heavily as if he knew what he had to do but refused to commit to it all the same. "Snooping," he murmured under his nose.

Your lips curved into a grin. "You really are desperate to be saying that." Truthfully, it was difficult for you to hold back laughter. After so much heartache and lack of closure, that was the one thing Morpheus thought would get you to forgive him. But, maybe, if he was willing to do that one thing he refused to do for many centuries he was honest and truly desired your forgiveness.

For the first time in so long, he looked you in the eye. His normally intense stare was now slightly vacant as if he was still pondering something, weighing out the chances of success of whatever it was he had on mind.

"It was either that or setting the world aflame," he finally said. "Have me back, please."

Did you... hear that right? A complete emptiness took over your mind. You remembered your confession very well as if you had spoken it no earlier than yesterday. Truthfully, you never really thought he would pay it any attention. After all, if he was happily married like you had assumed until today, why would he? Turns out, he must have thought about so many times that not a word of it slipped his mind.

As if taking advantage of your sudden moment of confusion, Morpheus reached out to grab your hand. Once he cradled your palm with his, he placed a chaste kiss on it. His confession was about as honest as an eldritch king can get.

Hob only craned his neck further to get a better look at the two of you. A smile of relief appeared on his face - he had been waiting for that moment ever since he saw Morpheus and you together.

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