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shuafiles · 3 months ago

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poison [l.dh]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and haechan have a love for drama, so when things start feeling too predictable, you both devise a plan to keep the spark alive. but as real emotions creep in, you start wondering if you’ve taken it too far.

PAIRING | boyfriend!haechan x afab!reader

CONTENT | smut with no plot, mean girl reader, billionaire haechan, some degrading insults, haechan is a loser for reader, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff! honestly just reader getting lowk insecure and haechan getting mad that she thinks he wud replace her when he's so sickeningly in love with her

WORDS | 3.9k

A/N | inspired by blaire and chuck from gossip girl !!! not totally but kinda.

spotted. lee haechan’s eyes scanning the crowd for his next target. the loud music almost deafening. sweaty bodies on the dance floor. the smell of liquor filling the air. he leaned against the bar, swirling the ice around his drink, when he locked eyes with the woman standing across from him, clad in a tight red dress that caught his attention. she seemed to have been looking at him for a while because once he finally caught her eye, her lips formed a smile, slyly sending him a wave. this was perfect.

haechan raised his glass with a slight nod, making her presence known to him. with hips swaying in confidence, she strolled over to him. she leaned against the bar, yelling out her drink order to the bartender—as if she didn’t come here for one reason only. he nearly missed how she fixed her hair as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. this was all part of her game. good thing haechan loved to play.

haechan smirked, turning his body to face her. “put her drink on my tab.” haechan spoke, loud enough for the bartender to hear, nodding at his request as he continued making her drink.

“you didn’t have to.” the woman said, tucking her hair behind her ear. she gave haechan her name, but he was too disinterested to ask her to repeat it, nodding to her words.

“haechan.” he tilted his head towards her, his eyes dancing over her frame long enough to reel her in.

“i know you.” she giggled, sliding close to him, arms nearly brushing one another. “think everyone in this room does.”

of course, they would. who wouldn't? haechan was the youngest billionaire in the city, the type of man people dreamed of being or fucking. he knew she wasn’t the first person to be drawn by his reputation, and she definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“so, you’re just here… alone?” she asked, placing a hand on haechan’s arm. a bold move. biting her lips as an invitation.

haechan raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a knowing smirk. it was almost too easy. he inched closer to her, the gap between them being dangerously close, enough to keep her hooked. “depends,” his voice low, gaze dropping to her lips. “who’s asking?”

she leaned closer, eyes flickering to his lips, sending him an invitation to take things further. “what if we went somewhere more private?” her voice low and sultry, breath fanning against his skin, her body language insinuating that she wanted more than just small conversations.

“what if i have a girlfriend?” haechan teased.

she let out a laugh as if to brush off his words. “lee haechan doesn’t do girlfriends.” she replied, a playful look on her face. her fingers sliding up his arm. tilting her head until she was close enough to his lips.

just when her lips were mere inches away from his, a loud and commanding voice sliced through the air.

“what the fuck!” there you stood, arms crossed with fire in your eyes as you stared at the scene in front of you. the woman pulled back from the sudden voice. haechan leaned back against the bar with amusement in his eyes. the game was about to get even better.

the women froze, eyes blinking. her expression shifting from flirtation to confusion. “is… something wrong?” she asked, throat dry as you marched towards them.

“yes, actually.” you spat, voice sharp but controlled, the perfect volume to make her squirm. “care to explain why your nasty hands are all over my boyfriend?”

blood drained from her face, her body stepped away from haechan. face flooding with embarrassment as she looked between you and haechan. “wait–i…i didn’t know!” she stammered, voice faltering as she tried to gather herself.

haechan, playing the part perfectly, put his hands up. “baby, i tried to tell her i have a girlfriend. i was just being polite, and she came over to me.” he said, a pleading look on his face that barely concealed his grin. you could see him trying to suppress his laughter, but you kept your angry expression, not wanting to break character.

“i’m so sorry! oh my god, i didn’t– i wouldn't have–” she stuttered,

“next time, maybe check if he’s single before you start whoring yourself at him.” you shot her a pity look; lips twitching into a sarcastic smile. you watched as her face turned crimson, bowing her head in apology. you tsked at her. “well? get your cheap perfume-smelling ass out of here!” waving your hand in exasperation.

she muttered an embarrassed apology before backing away and hastily disappearing into the crowd. the moment she was out of sight, haechan wrapped his arms around your waist, laughter escaping his lips.

“hi.” you greeted him by placing your hands on his chest, a flirty smile plastered on your face.

“hi, baby.” haechan kissed your temple. “you are way too good at this.” he murmured, eyes filled with amusement as he pulled you close.

“oh, please.” you slid your hands up to his shoulders, leaning into him. “you were practically begging for me to come and save you.”

haechan chuckled, his fingers tracing small circles on your back–a small habit of his. “maybe. but admit it, you enjoyed every second of it.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips gave your expression away. “fine. but next time, maybe don’t let them get too close.” you tilted your head. sending him a warning glare.

haechan leaned forward, lips brushing against one another.. “don’t worry, princess. you know i only want you.” his voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper. his words sending sparks to your stomach. you love it when he’s like this, so loyal and so needy for you.

this game was your very own taste of poison—a mix of jealousy, excitement, and danger. it was intoxicating, the way it made your heart race, the thrill of testing each other’s limits. but along with the thrill, there was lingering pain every time you saw haechan in the arms of another woman. but you decided to shake it off, after all, it was you who he was coming home to.

you closed the gap between your lips, savoring his taste. he reciprocated your eagerness, his grip on your waist tightening as his leg went in between your thighs. your dress nearly hiking up from the contact.

“what do you say, let’s get out of here?” haechan mumbled against your lips, his hand reaching for the hem of your dress to pull it down and avoid exposing you to the crowd. you were his, after all. no one else’s.

“hi, princess.” haechan greeted you with a quick, soft peck on the lips as you entered his penthouse. his cologne filled the air, blending with the subtle scent of leather and warm spices that filled the room. it had been a few days since you saw him, and something about the way he looked now—so comfy and domesticated—made your heart flutter, even after all this time.

“so,” haechan started as you both settled down on the couch. “there’s this new lounge downtown that opened up, i hear it's pretty popular. want to check it out? have some fun?” his lips curled into a smirk, brows wiggling slightly as his arms rested on the couch behind your back.

you tried to fight off the way your eyes nearly rolled behind your head. right. the game. it’s not like you hated it, in fact, you were the one who suggested it at first. before you met haechan he had this playboy image attached to him, a reputation for never settling down, always chasing after a girl. you heard the gossip, the way people talked about him like he was some forbidden fruit that you taste once and never again. the games, in some sick twisted way, were a way to keep him off his feet while reminding him that he belonged to you.

deep down, you couldn’t help but feel that he’ll never be satisfied with just you.

“baby?” haechan pulled you out of your trance, watching you with worried eyes. “are you okay? do you not want to?” his hand reached for the ones in your lap, caressing the skin lightly.

you tried to force a smile, shaking your head. “it’s not that.” chewing on your bottom lips as you tried to think of the words. “sometimes i just wonder… if these games are all we have.” you admitted, head low as you avoided his gaze.

haechan’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze sharpening as he watched you. “what do you mean?” his voice softened.

you took a deep breath, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i only suggested this because… because i was scared?”

“what are you scared of, princess?” with his free hand, he grasped your chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting your head to face him. his eyes flickering all over your face. cheeks burning from his intense gaze.

you stayed silent for a second, pondering of what to say. “i was scared you’d get bored of me. you had this reputation, haechan.” you started, his expression turning sour from your confession. “i-i didn’t know if i was enough to keep you interested, and i thought if we kept things exciting, you wouldn't go back to that life.”

something shifted in haechan as soon as you finished talking. his soft, warm look had vanished and got replaced by something sharp, something angry. he dropped his hand from your face, his jaw tightening as he stood up, turning away from you. you heart dropped at this state, worried you offended him.

“are you serious?” haechan ran his hands through his hair. “you think i’m only interested in you because of… because of these games?” he turned to face you.

you swallowed, a wave of regret washing over you. “i didn’t mean–“ you stood up, facing him. his frame towering over you.

“do you think that low of me?” haechan’s jaw clenched, he couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth “do you think i’d get bored and… leave you for someone else?”

“haechan, that’s not what i mean.” you reached for his hand, but his body was stiff, still, he let you hold his hand. “it’s just– i don’t know… you never really settled down before. i thought you needed something to keep things interesting.”

“after everything we’ve been through, you still think i’d leave you the second things get a little… normal?” his voice raw, the hurt evident in his tone. you have never seen him this upset, so vulnerable. you felt like shit.

haechan has never once shown you anything to make you doubt his love. it was rooted in your insecurity that you think he’d get up and leave.

“i just,” you paused, carefully studying his expression. his forehead creased from the way his eyebrows were furrowed. your thumb drew circles on the back of his hand. “didn’t want to lose you.”

“i know you’re worried because of my… past.” his voice grew softer, his other hand reaching for yours. “you know that’s not who i am anymore, y/n. you changed that. do you even realize that?” his gaze burned into you, his frustration turning into assurance. “if you think i need some damn game to stay interested, then i guess i have to remind you.”

“remind me what?” you questioned, his fingers tugging you close to him.

“of how much i love you.” haechan leaned down, his body’s warmth engulfing you. “of how you’re the only girl for me.” his lips crashed into yours. you gasped at the sudden movement before shutting your eyes and feeling him against you.

his hands grasped your hips, pulling your body close to him. his leg in between your thighs, and you were thankful you decided to wear a skirt today. his grip on your hips tightened as you moaned against his lips once he slipped his tongue past your mouth, making sure to cover every corner. you couldn’t help but grind your hips against his thigh, needing some sort of friction. he noticed you were getting needy, so he pulled away, smirking at your flustered state before grabbing you by the hand and guiding you to his bedroom.

haechan wasted no time pushing your body down on the soft mattress, yelping when he suddenly stripped your skirt and underwear off of your body in one swift motion. your bottom half completely bare as he shamelessly stared at your dripping pussy.

“hyuck!” you whined. you were half-naked, yet he was still fully clothed. he let out a chuckle before grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. his fingers grabbed the hem of your top before sliding it off you. leaving you bare and ready for him.

haechan pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he sunk to his knees, his face right in front of your glistening core. he leaned forward, taking a whiff of your scent, letting out a groan once the smell hit his nostrils. “can’t believe you think i’d exchange this for anything.” he wrapped his arms around and over your thighs, holding you steady as you squirmed underneath his touch. “guess i have to show you how much i need you, princess.” he murmured before attaching his lips to your clit.

haechan sucked on the bundle of nerves, lapping his tongue around your folds. your hand gripping his hair, pulling him close to you. he had you planned out like a map, knew all the tips and tricks to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. he darted his tongue out to your entrance, making you buck your hips upward.

“o-oh god.” you cried out, back arching against the mattress. you needed him. craved for him.

haechan hummed against your pussy, his cock growing harder with every moan you released. he loved it when you were weak from his touch—in this case, tongue. he pulled away from your cunt, a string of saliva forming. he retracted one arm from your thigh, bringing his fingers up to your clit. your legs twitching once you felt his long fingers gliding along your folds, feeling your slick mixed with his saliva. without warning, he sunk two digits into your wet hole. lewd sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“how could i–” haechan curled his fingers, making your legs close from pleasure, but his grip prevented you from doing so. “ever get bored–” he inserted another finger, relentlessly fucking your hole, stretching you out in the process. “of my sweet sweet slut–” he increased his pace, making you cry out of pleasure. “when you take my fingers this good?”

you trembled against him, stomach contracting from the immense pleasure he was giving you. he knew you were close once he felt you clench around his fingers. he took this as a sign to return his lips to your clit, sucking harshly on the bud. matching the movement of his tongue with his fingers. your grip on his hair tightened, your hips pushing down to meet his touch. his fingers effortlessly sliding in and out of your core, curling it with every thrust.

“h-hyuck, so close, please.” you moaned, your head lifting to face him. his eyes meeting yours, smirking once he saw your face twisting into pleasure. his ego growing once he saw how hungry you were for him.

“you taste so good, baby.” haechan grunted, pressing his tongue flat on your clit. desperate to bring you to your climax, he increased his pace. the sound of your pussy squelching reached your ears. “come on, baby. cum on my fingers.” with his encouragement, you came hard on his fingers. a string of curse words escaping your lips, hand gripping the sheets beneath you as you threw your head back against the bed.

haechan’s movements halted, pulling his tongue away from your clit. reclaiming his fingers that were buried in you, each digit covered in your cum. he wasted no time cleaning his fingers with his tongue, tasting your sweetness till it was no more.

he pulled his body away from you, making you frown as you tried to catch your breath. he stripped himself out of his pants and shirt, discarding them somewhere in the room. you kept your gaze on him, his tip red and angry, slapped against his stomach. you propped yourself up by your elbows, climbing higher on the bed to give him some space. he flashed you a sweet smile, climbing in between your legs. his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, getting a taste of your cum from his tongue.

“on your stomach.” he mumbled against your lips. you pulled away, your face burning with anticipation. you twisted your body, laying flat on your stomach. he grabbed one of his pillows, prompting the soft material beneath you. your ass on full display for him, making him groan. he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping his length while his free hand took a handful of your ass, squeezing the skin, pushing your hips against his hand. “my good girl.”

haechan leaned down, pressing soft wet kisses on your back, legs straddling the back of your thighs. “stick your ass up a bit for me, baby.” following his instructions, you hiked your ass up for him. “god, you’re too perfect.” he gripped his cock with one hand, lining himself up to your entrance before sinking inside you. he hissed as your pussy perfectly swallowed him like you were made for him. “jesus–how are you still so tight for me?” he shifted his hands to the swell of your ass, gripping on it.

“fuck, hyuck.” you moaned as you adjusted to his size. you seemed to always forget how big and thick his cock was. “you’re so big, baby.” your walls were burning, but soon enough, the discomfort slowly turned into pleasure as you felt every inch of his cock.

haechan almost growled, desperate to move. you turned your head to the side, catching his eye. you gave him a slight nod, signaling him to move, which he does gladly. he started to move his hips against you. “god, baby, you take my cock so fucking well.” his hands flat on your ass as he started to increase the pace of his thrusts. you lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, making him grunt. his hands moving to grip your shoulders, steadying himself as he buried his cock deep into you. you couldn't help the moans that slips past your lips as the tip of his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. “your pussy was made for me.”

haechan’s hand moved to collect your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging on it with every thrust of his hips. your breath came out in short gasps, tears welling your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“f-faster, hyuckie.” you managed to gasp out. stars clouding your vision as he increased his speed. you arched your back, pushing your hips down on his cock. his hand moving down to your throat, pulling your body flush against him.

“i’m all yours, baby.” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “never doubt my love for you again.” you grew weak at his words, legs shaking as he continued slamming his hips against yours. “lay on your back.” he pulled out of you, nearly feeling lonely from the empty feeling. following his instructions, you laid on your back—secretly loving the way he bosses you around.

he positioned himself between your legs, leaning down to attach his lips to yours. you moaned into the kiss, arms flying around his neck to pull you close to him. he aligns his cock back to your entrance, easily slipping it in. your face scrunching in pleasure as his thrusts gradually increased pace. his lips detaching from yours before trailing kisses down to your chest.

haechan’s mouth met your breast, entrapping the bud around his lips before sucking it. his hand giving your other breast all the attention by circling the sensitive nub with his fingers. your back arching from the sensation, pushing your breast further to his face. his cock pounded deeper into you as he felt you clench around him, your orgasm forming at the pit of your stomach. he released your nipple, making a popping sound in the process. “is this what you wanted?” he smirked, watching you writhe beneath him. “to remind you that you’re the only girl that gets to feel my cock?” his hand sliding down to your clit, pinching it, making you gasp. “to fuck you dumb til you can’t speak?” your mind was getting hazy, you merely nodded at his words, lips parting as he fills you up perfectly. “look at me, baby.” he commanded, your gaze meeting his. his eyes dark, filled with hunger as he stared you down. “i love you.”

the familiar knot formed in your abdomen as his fingers continued to circle your clit while simultaneously slamming his hips into yours. his thrusts in perfect rhythm as you neared your climax. he continued whispering the nastiest things in your ear, making sure to get it into your head that he belonged to you, and you only.

“i-i’m gonna cum, please, hyuckie.” you managed to whine out, tears forming your eyes.

the consistency of his thrusts getting sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up. “does my pretty little slut want me to be filled with my cum, hm?”

“yes, please.” your nails digging into his shoulders. “want your cum in me.”

haechan leaned down to kiss you once more. your release washing over you with a few more thrusts. your body trembling as you came all over his cock. your walls contracting triggering his own orgasm, his cum releasing inside you. his body collapsing on top of you as he pulled his cock from you. his cum trickling down your pussy.

your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat sticking to your bodies. haechan detached himself from you, landing on the spot next to you. he turned to face you, eyes searching yours. “this isn’t just some passing thrill for me, y/n.” he reminded you, hand reaching out to caress your cheek as you faced him with soft eyes. “you’re the person i want to build something real with. i belong to you, you belong to me.”

you could see how much he meant his words, how deeply he felt for you.

“i love you, haechan.” you whispered, leaning into his touch. he pulled your body close to him, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“i love you, too. no more games, okay? just you and me.”

just the two of you, raw and real, was more than enough.

#lee haechan #lee donghyuck #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan imagines #haechan smut #donghyuck imagines #nct imagines #donghyuck smut #nct smut #haechan x reader #nct x reader

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dickgraysonsptsd · 25 days ago

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dick grayson, money, and control

i am so obsessed with dick's relationship with money... the more post-crisis comics i read the more i believe that dick sees offers of money, especially from the rich or powerful, as an attempt to exert control over him. in part because bruce, intentionally or not, had dick in a position where dick was entirely dependent on him for housing and money for most of his life, and has directly used giving or taking away resources to punish or control dick before.

disclaimer: i'm using a LOT of chuck dixon comics here because of his heavy involvement in building out dick's personal history in the 90s/00s. as a reminder chuck dixon is an alt-right homophobic qanon creep and deserves no respect

early days as robin

in robin (1992) annual #4 (dixon's version of the dick's origin story), dick is taken in by bruce but almost immediately feels out of place and unwanted in bruce's home. he thinks of himself as bruce's "christmas puppy" and is certain that as soon as his parents' killer is caught, bruce will send him back:

dick doesn't feel any sense of permanence in bruce's life early on. that's understandable given the multiple traumas he's been through, and the impermanence itself isn't what i want to focus on here—for our purposes, the way dick's sense of instability is framed here is as an adopted pet. a christmas puppy. an animal, an impulse buy.

even at age 8, dick understands there's a massive gulf in power between himself and bruce—bruce has a giant home, while dick doesn't see the manor as "home" because he's always expecting to be sent back into the system. bruce is the person adopting a puppy, while dick is the puppy. their power imbalance is implicitly tied to bruce's immense wealth and dick's complete lack of status outside of being bruce's ward.

in robin: year one #3 (also by dixon), leslie and dick talk about how bruce doesn't mind giving handouts, but neither of them want to go to him for them:

Leslie: That's why I had you come to General for tests. They have equipment I just can't afford yet. And I'm not about to go to Bruce for another handout Dick: He wouldn't mind. Leslie: That doesn't make it any easier. Dick: Yeah. I know what you mean.

leslie says another handout, meaning that bruce has already funded her here, and dick too has received financial support from bruce as robin and as his ward. but they both don't want to go back for more money, despite knowing that bruce "wouldn't mind"—there's a deeper issue here than whether or not bruce minds it or can afford it. it's not "easy" for leslie or dick to accept bruce's money, even though it's easy for bruce to give it.

to me, this means dick still doesn't see his new level of wealth (or, more accurately, his new access to bruce's level of wealth) as a normal, secure part of his life. i don't know if he ever really does, though eventually he'll come to rely on a line of credit from bruce in his teen titan days.

the firing (nightwing: year one version)

in nightwing (1996) #101, the first issue of dixon's nightwing: year one arc, bruce fires dick as robin. in #102, dick goes to clark for advice, and clark is shocked at the news:

Clark: How can he fire you? Dick: He said, "you're fired." Clark: It's not a job. Dick: It is to Bruce. His cave. His car. His rules. He pays the bills, Clark. And in his eyes I screwed up.

i think we can trace some of dick's intense dislike for taking money from the rich to this version of the firing—in dick's eyes, by accepting bruce's cave, car, and money to pay the bills, dick gave bruce the power to then take those things away from him. bruce was able to fire dick from robin because bruce's resources enabled robin. if dick had been funding robin himself, if it had been dick's cave and car, bruce couldn't have taken it away from him. (when he later moves to blüdhaven, dick takes the first possible opportunity to establish a lair in his apartment and build his own car, rebuilding these resources on his own terms.)

notably, at the end of the actual firing issue (#101), bruce orders dick to leave behind the new robin suit alfred made for him, connecting the firing directly to bruce taking back something given to dick:

here dick gets a very memorable lesson that gifts of financial support and equipment—or workplace resources, if you look at it from the "robin is a job" perspective that bruce takes in this story—can be given with good intentions, but later used as leverage to punish and control.

moving to blüdhaven

nightwing (1996) #3 by chuck dixon was written years before dixon wrote nightwing: year one (above), so it's not totally consistent with it, but dixon was clearly already thinking about dick's relationship with bruce's money when he wrote dick moving to blüdhaven:

Operator: I'm not showing a credit history, Mr. Grayson. Date of birth? A man your age and there's nothing on my screen. You'll need to send us a certified check for one thousand dollars before we can approve electrical service. Dick: I'll get one to you this afternoon.

Dick: Everyone wants cash because Dick Grayson doesn't exist. I guess they're right. Seems like I hardly know him. Kory or Alfred always handled this stuff for me. And for years I've had to rely on a line of credit paid for by Bruce. Seems like I've been on fast forward since the night my parents died.

dick moves to blüdhaven without a credit history and without any financial records in his name at all, as far as i can tell. "dick grayson doesn't exist." he's been reliant on other people financially, either to manage his money or for the money itself, and now he's establishing independence as a solo operation by starting to handle all of that himself. and he's establishing that independence as dick grayson, not just as nightwing.

(also, "on fast forward since the night my parents died"—really juicy to me that dick's lack of financial independence gets linked to how quickly he grows up after his parents' deaths!!)

soon dick gets a job bartending and grins thinking about "the look on bruce's face":

Dick: I actually have a job. Can't wait to see the look on Bruce's face.

which is a fun moment of "just moved out of my parent's place and i finally got my first job!!" freedom to me (though he's been out of the manor for years at this point).

dick and team funding

we now jump forward to 2003. in titans/young justice: graduation day #1, megacorp optitron offers a massive amount of funding to the titans and young justice. dick is immediately skeptical and assumes that optitron will gradually start to use their financial leverage over the titans to "[get] us fighting their own little wars"—it's clear that he's tying together receiving money with being controlled.

Roy: Think of what we could accomplish— Dick: With a gigantic pile of money? No thanks. It begins with them just funding us. Then they've got us fighting their own little wars. I'm sure there's some land rights issue in Asia that they'd love for us to tackle.

donna makes it clear that she's well aware of dick's feelings about the rich, and implies that his bias against them is affecting his decisions around optitron:

Donna: You have a chip on your shoulder about the rich. That and corporations. Dick: What do you mean by that? Donna: What do you think I mean by that?

and all that evidence of dick's view of money-as-control aside... dick wasn't wrong to be skeptical about ulterior motives!! in outsiders (2003) #21, it's revealed that the offer of funding from optitron in titans/young justice: graduation day was at bruce's behest:

so the entire funding offer in graduation day was part of an elaborate deception by bruce to pay for dick's team without letting dick find out about it. bruce later says he meant well by doing this, but dick is so angry about it that there's clearly a deeper issue here for dick:

Narration: And those who know [that Optitron is owned by Batman] are having a very hard time buying the "hands-off approach." Dick: I'll kill him. Roy: Settle down. Dick: Don't tell me to settle down, Roy. He did this again. He always does this.

"he did this again. he always does this." 👀👀👀

in one of my favorite scenes ever, dick confronts bruce in an explosive rage about his ownership of optitron and specifically calls out bruce being deceptive and manipulative (outsiders [2003] #21):

Dick: What exactly is your compulsion, your burning desire to deceive, lie, and manipulate the only people who give a good god damn about you!?

you should really read this issue if you haven't, it's amazing!! i can't summarize the complex weird conversation bruce and dick have here, it has so many layers, but the point is that dick IMMEDIATELY and VERY EMOTIONALLY takes bruce forcing his money on dick('s team) as bruce being a manipulative control freak.

and like, yeah, we know dick can and does overreact to bruce, but the way he overreacts to bruce here... i am immediately connecting this on the red string board in my mind back to bruce firing dick and dick establishing independence from him in nightwing (1996)!! dick worked hard for that independence!! and then bruce made dick take his money even though dick didn't want to, even though dick has these well-established issues around bruce's money, and he brewed up this whole deception around it because he knew dick didn't want it!! of COURSE dick sees that as bruce being willfully a huge fucking controlling bastard to him!!! GOD!!!!!

#dick grayson #no thoughtful conclusion to this post btw i'm just thinking about bruce and dick now #dgptsd talking

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jessicalprice · 1 year ago

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I think the thing that most Christian atheists who are rebelling against authoritarian Christian backgrounds don't get is why Jews remain Jewish.

Like, I get it, you engaged in your practices because you were told that God would punish you if you didn't, because you're told you're supposed to fear God.

(Incidentally, we don't even use the same language about this. The term that gets translated in most English bibles as "fear" is, like many classical Hebrew words, a lot more multivalent than the English term, and has more of a connotation of "awe." (See, for example, the Gilgamesh dream sequence: "Why am I trembling? No god passed this way." A god is something in whose wake one trembles.) It's what one feels when one is faced with something bigger than oneself, something overwhelming. For some people that may be fear of being harmed. For others it may be wonder or even ecstasy, standing outside oneself.)

But in 2023, Jews have the option (and, indeed, still the cultural pressure) to completely abandon Judaism. Very easily. We can, in fact, do it quite passively. If we're not actively trying to engage with it, it will very much drift away from us.

And it's not fear of divine punishment keeping most of us engaged.

The thing is, if you proved to me tomorrow that God doesn't exist, I'm not sure anything about my life or my practice would change. (I'm already agnostic, so *shrug*. I don't believe in a God-person. Sometimes I believe in a unity to reality, a life and a direction to it. Sometimes I don't. I just don't have the arrogance to think I understand definitively the way the universe does or doesn't work.) I still would celebrate Shabbat, I still wouldn't eat pork, I still would have a mezuzah on my doorway.

I do all that stuff because I'm Jewish, not because I think God will get mad if I don't. I do all that stuff because it's part of a cultural system that I see as wise and life-giving and therapeutic and worth maintaining.

And the thing is, the cultural system that Christian antitheists want us to assimilate into, under the guise of "getting rid of religion", is very much a white Protestant culture. It's not culturally neutral. It has practices, and it has a particular worldview, and it has cultural norms that are just as irrational as any other culture's.

It's also very telling that Christian antitheists purport to be harmed by Jews continuing to be Jewish. Why? We don't impose our norms on anyone else, and we overwhelmingly vote (and organize, and engage in activism) against the imposition of Christian "religious" norms, such as the curtailing of reproductive freedom, blue laws, etc.

So you're only "harmed" by our continued existence in the same way Christians purport to be harmed by it: by claiming that the very existence of a group that doesn't share your worldview and practices is somehow an act of oppression against you.

Which is, you know, white supremacist logic.

You're still upholding the logic of Jesus's genocidal, colonial Great Commission even though you supposedly don't believe in the god that ordered it anymore.

That's gotta be one of the saddest things I encounter among my fellow humans.

You took down all the crosses in the church of your mind and chucked them out the window, but you still refuse to step foot outside the church building, contenting yourself with claiming it's not a church, and firing out the windows at the synagogue and mosque down the road, the same way you used to.

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blueberrylemontea-fanfic · 6 months ago

Text

Just a little distraction

Pairing: JJ x Pope x fem!reader

Summary: You admit that you can't get into oral because you always overthink it. JJ suggests you might just need to be distracted.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, oral (male & female receiving), threesome

Based on Oral Exam by drcjsnider.

JJ put the joint between your parted lips.

"Beer me, Pope" he hooted, too loudly, at Pope who was sitting in the lounge chair next to the beer cooler on the porch of the Chateau.

Pope tossed both you and JJ a beer.

You had been lounging on the porch of the Chateau all morning, slowly getting stoned and slowly getting drunk. Once again, you guys had landed on your favourite topic of conversation: your sex lives. Or, lately, sadly, the lack thereof.

You took a long drag from the joint and sighed "God, I just really wanna get laid..."

Immediately you felt JJ scooch closer to you. "Y'know..."

"In your dreams, Maybank," you laughed.

"And it's not just getting laid, really, I mean that's the easy part..."

"Speak for yourself," Pope interrupted with a pained grin.

You and JJ giggled. "... it's finding a guy that can get me to cum that's harder."

Pope coughed out the smoke he was trying to inhale rolled over onto his stomach. JJ just grinned. "Oooh, we're getting to the good stuff now. All those mainlanders weren't up to the task, huh?"

"Not a single one of them."

"Wait so you never..." Pope trailed of at the end of his sentence.

"Not with anyone else present," you rolled your eyes.

"That's really hot," JJ smirked.

"And really sad," Pope added.

"Isn't it?" You sighed.

"So, like, none of these tools could get you to cum? Not even from oral?"

You grimaced "Nope. And I don't really like oral anyways."

"What?! Okay, how can you not like someone going down on you? It's like the best thing in the world?"

"Yeah, like you'd know." JJ chucked an empty beer can at Pope.

"I don't know. I just can't relax, y'know? I can't turn my brain off. I'm just constantly overthinking everything. I, like, need someone there to relax me or something."

"Looks like you were wrong JJ, now we're getting to the good stuff," Pope smirked.

You laughed. "I didn't mean it like that," you hit Pope on the arm playfully, "then again... It might not be the worst idea. If it means I finally get an orgasm, I'm all for it."

"Y'know..." JJ's fingers traced over your stomach. You tried to hide how his touch made your breath catch in your throat. "JJ..." You sighed. "I'm serious, Y/n. You not being able to enjoy someone going down on you is a travesty. It must be remedied at all costs, right Pope?"

"I hate to admit it, but JJ does have a point."

"Okay, so what exactly are you suggesting? You saying that you two could give me an orgasm?"

"I mean, we're two able and very willing young men, aren't we Pope? I think we're up to the task."

It was Pope's hand on your knee that did it.

You were crazy for even considering it, you knew that. But Pope's fingers softly grazing your knee while JJ's were still tracing circles on your stomach set your insides on fire. They'd finally made you an offer you couldn't refuse.

"Are you two sure about this?"

Their eyes widened briefly, surprised that you'd actually agree to this, then they both nodded faster than lightning.

You turned to JJ, slowly pulling him in by the collar of his shirt and pressing your lips against his. JJ's arm was firm against your back, holding you close as he kissed you back. He kissed you like he spent his whole life waiting to, deeply, passionately, all in.

You pulled away from JJ and took Pope's hand, letting him pull you up to your feet so your bodies were touching. Running your hand along the side of his face before finally, achingly slowly, you leaned in and let your lips fall against his. Pope kissed you like he'd spent his life dreaming about you, drawn out and featherlight, sending shivers down your spine.

"Let's go inside," you smiled as you peeled yourself off of Pope, taking both boys by the hand and guiding them into the Chateau. As soon as you were inside, JJ tugged you against him again, his mouth heavily on yours. You let go of Pope's hand to instinctively tangle your hands in JJ's hair. JJ tapped the back of your thighs and you hopped up into his arm, your legs wrapping around his waist.

While JJ was all over you, you noticed that Pope had drawn back a little, always more hesitant than his best friend. You tossed your hair over your shoulder and beckoned for Pope to come closer. "Don't be shy."

You held out your hand. Pope took it and let you guide him closer to you. You put his hand on your waist and then tapped the crook of your neck slightly. "I want you to touch me, Pope." JJ groaned at your words and reclaimed your mouth with his as Pope's lips slowly touched your neck.

You nodded your head at their movements, spurring them on. Pope's lips made their way along your neck, his chest pressed up against your back. He was sucking at the tender spot below your ear as his hands started roaming over your hips. JJ's fingers were trailing patterns up the back of your thigh, his tongue exploring the insides of your mouth. It all felt incredible.

You let out a soft, whimpering moan and felt both their mouths quirk up into a smirk against your skin. JJ's hand hesitated slightly. You pulled back from his kiss and whispered against his lips. "It's okay, JJ, you can touch me." His hands moved to cup your ass. JJ gave you a squeeze. "God, do you know how many times I've wanted to grab that great ass of yours?" He groaned.

You suddenly noticed that Pope's hand was stroking the side of your stomach, his hand travelling down until he reached the top of your shorts. "May I?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded vigorously and his hand dipped into your pants. Pope's fingers trailed down to your folds, stroking you lightly. You moaned loudly as he started rubbing slow circles on your clit.

"JJ?" His questioning baby blue eyes immediately met yours. You snapped the strap of your bikini top. "Untie this, will you?"

He looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he pulled the strings of your swimsuit and watched as it dropped to the floor. For a brief moment, both boys stood staring at you in awe.

"Christ, you're gorgeous, Y/n." JJ cursed as he kissed his way down your neck. You let your head fall back on Pope's shoulder, who captured your lips again in an instant. Every doubt you'd had, had already faded away into the background. Your two best friends were already making you feel better than anyone else ever had.

Slowly, JJ put you down on the couch. Both him and Pope started trailing kisses down your body, covering every inch of you. JJ slipped your shorts down your legs as they kissed down your inner thighs. Instinctively, you pushed your knees together, not used to this much exposure.

"You alright?" Two soft pairs of concerned eyes met yours. God, how you loved them...

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Just, feel a little exposed, that's all." You felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

JJ looked between himself and his friend. "Pope and I are a little behind in that department. Want us to catch up?"

You nodded gladly. "Yes, please."

You'd seen them in next to no clothes so often, and yet your breath hitched in your throat as they stripped down to their underwear. You didn't appreciate it often enough how fine these boys really were.

You reached out your hands and ran them down their torsos. When you reached their boxers you gave both bands a snap, a tentative question in your smile. True to character, JJ pushed his shorts down with an almost obnoxious speed, while Pope was a lot shyer about it. Not that he had any reason to.

"You guys are gorgeous, you know that, right?" The sight of them practically had you salivating. "Look who's talking," JJ chuckled. "Yeah, Y/n... We're nothing compared to you," Pope's hungry look made your stomach twist. "Strongly disagree," you smiled. "Now, will someone please touch me again?"

You did not have to ask twice.

JJ's hands tangled in your hair as he pressed his lips down on yours. Pope's eyes caught yours as his fingers traced over the top of your underwear. You nodded and Pope slipped the fabric down your legs.

JJ's lips were once again making their way down your neck as Pope's were softly trailing up your thighs. You were all throaty moans as you squirmed underneath them. Pope's fingers found their way back to your clit, making you gasp.

You noticed that JJ had made his way down your body, now kneeling next to Pope. Wordlessly, Pope moved aside to let JJ take his place. Pope took over the assault on your neck and torso as JJ caught your eye, not unlike Pope had done mere minutes ago. Once again you nodded. JJ winked at you before he hooked your leg over his shoulder and flattened his tongue against your core.

Like always, your body tensed. This already felt so much better than it did with others, probably because you trusted JJ with your life, but even so, the sensation felt strange.

JJ's palms smoothed over your legs as he gave you some time to adjust to the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

"You sure you're good with this, Y/n? We can stop anytime you want to," he said when the tension didn't ease.

You shook your head quickly "I don't want you to stop."

JJ's smile could light up the entire cut. "Well, then you gotta relax, Y/n. Try not to be in your head so much. Don't focus on me or what I'm doing, just focus on Pope while I take care of you."

You nodded. Maybe he was right. You beckoned for Pope to come closer to you and pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. You felt JJ's tongue on you again, but tried to focus on Pope fully. While he was great kisser, it wasn't enough to keep your attention away from JJ.

You pulled back from the kiss slowly. You reached out your hand and ran your fingers down his body, pausing at his upper thigh. "Can I?" Pope nodded eagerly. You wrapped your hand around his base, focusing on the movement of your hand as you stroked him. The small whimpers that Pope let out at your touch made you wanna clench your thighs together, hadn't it been for JJ's head in between them.

After some slow strokes, you licked your hand and started pumping him for real. You worked your hand over his length, suddenly aware of the sensation between your own legs, where JJ's tongue was expertly lapping away at you.

Involuntarily, your free hand tangled into the blonde's hair as a low moan escaped you.

The three of you looked at each other in pleasant surprise before JJ's smug smile disappeared between your legs again.

You genuinely felt good now, and it spurred you on. You wanted to make Pope feel just as good as JJ was making you feel.

You leant up on your elbow and slowly ran your tongue underneath Pope's base before sucking his length into your mouth. Pope moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he desperately tried to keep his composure.

You let go of Pope with a pop. "Pope?" His eyes were one wide-eyed question. "Would you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Stop holding back." You gave him a quick kiss on his upper thigh before taking him back into your mouth.

Pope let out a surprised groan that made your chest flutter.

"That's it, Pope, I wanna hear you."

Pope smiled as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck. His thumb stroked your cheek as you let your hollowed out cheeks glide along Pope's length. You were so focused on Pope that you'd stopped worrying about JJ's tongue against you. His thumb circling your clit was hard to miss though. You let out a yelp as your back arched off the bed.

" 's that good?" JJ asked. You nodded furiously. JJ's touch made it increasingly harder for you to focus on Pope. It wasn't long before you had to replace your mouth with your hand. You did your best to keep stroking Pope as you threw your head back. One hand was still tugging on JJ's hair as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"I'm so close, JJ," you moaned out. Your hand movements were becoming more erratic, and eventually you let go of Pope entirely. You recognized the familiar coiling in your stomach, but it felt so different from when you were on your own.

"Fuck, JJ!" You screamed as you came, back arched off the bed, one hand tangled in JJ's hair, the other gripping Pope's hand. You rode out your orgasm on JJ's tongue, before falling back onto the bed.

"Holy shit," you panted. "That was..."

"The hottest thing to ever happen in the history of the universe?" JJ finished your sentence.

Pope nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

You pulled JJ in for a kiss. "Thanks, JJ."

"You are so, so welcome, sunshine," he smiled widely.

"And you..." You gave Pope another kiss, too. "Best distraction ever," you winked. "But, um, I don't think I'm done with you."

"Oh no, Y/n, you don't have to. This whole thing was about you. It's okay."

You pulled Pope down so he was sitting on the bed next to you. "As someone who knows all too well what it feels like when a sexual partner leaves you unsatisfied, I have absolutely no intention of being that person. So, unless you don't want me to, I'd love to finish what I've started."

Pope swallowed harshly before he nodded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered quickly. "If you want to."

You sank down onto your knees, eyeing Pope as you did. "Trust me, Pope, I want to."

You sank your lips back down onto Pope. You bobbed your head, your hand wrapped around his base. You were giving him your full attention now, able to set a much faster pace than you did earlier.

"Shit, Y/n," Pope groaned as he tangled his hand in your hair. "That feels so good." You smiled around him.

When you heard another moan, you pulled off of Pope with a pop, working your hand down his length while you talked. "Pope?" You asked. "Is JJ jacking off behind you?"

Pope nodded.

"JJ?"

"Yeah, sunshine?" JJ's small voice sounded from behind Pope.

"Don't you dare finish yourself off."

"Jesus Christ," JJ groaned. "Don't go saying shit like that and expect me not to cum, that's no fair."

You chuckled. "Well, I'm just saying, JJ, if you don't want me to touch you, by all means, make yourself cum."

"Fuck, alright."

With that confirmation, you sank back down onto Pope. "Oh fuck, Y/n, please keep going. I'm so close." Pope's breathing was getting erratic. You picked up your pace until Pope's fingers tightened in your hair. "Fuck," Pope moaned out as he came.

Slowly, you moved your hand along him, coaxing him through his orgasm. You swallowed his load and then kitten licked his tip until he was completely fucked out.

"Holy shit, Y/n, that was fucking fantastic," Pope panted. Pope pulled you up onto the bed again and kissed you deeply.

"Wow," the word left you involuntarily.

"Yeah..." Pope smiled. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I think JJ's about to combust."

You chuckled. "How about we fix that, huh?" You rolled over on the bed so you were facing JJ. "You wanna come over here?"

He nodded eagerly as he scooted closer to you. You nestled yourself in between his legs. "Fuck, you're gorgeous... Can't wait to taste you."

JJ's head fell back onto the mattress. "You're trying to kill me, right, that's what's happening here? Oh, fuck!" You couldn't wait any longer, so you wrapped your tongue around JJ's head instead.

JJ sat up on his arms, taking in your every movement. You worked him slowly, teasing him until he was panting shallowly. You stopped rubbing his base with your hand, digging your fingers into his thighs as you took all of him.

Instantly, JJ's hand fisted your hair, his hips bucking into you.

You looked up at him through your lashes, devious smirk on your lips as your nose brushed against his stomach. You pulled back slightly.

"You want to fuck my face, don't you?" You smirked.

"I..." JJ seemed flustered, guilty almost.

"Go on then," you winked.

JJ's hips jutted into action, slowly, torn between keeping his composure and giving into his desire. His fingers were tangled in your hair, holding you in place as he bucked his hips up into you. He rolled his hips over and over again, but his pace was still so incredibly measured. You could see the tense muscles in his thighs.

You cast your eyes upwards, instantly being met with his. You smiled and gave him a reassuring nod, silently begging him to let himself go.

Finally, JJ seemed to flip a switch. He picked up his pace, bucking into you faster. You were soon salivating around him as he occupied your throat. He bobbed your head to match his pace, his thumb softly caressing your cheek.

After just a minute, JJ was letting out the most gorgeous little moans, a string of lewd, uninhibited, guttural sounds that he couldn't hold back if he tried. His hips started faltering, his breathing rapid and shallow.

"Fuck, Y/n, you feel so fucking good," JJ whined. " 'm so close..." His hips jerked desperately, chasing his high.

Suddenly, he held your head still, pushing his hips up as far as they would go. He came into your mouth, holding your gaze as he did.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He pulled you up after his orgasm had crashed through him, holding you close to him and kissing you so fondly your head spun. "That was fucking incredible. You're fucking incredible."

"I think we've proven today that we're all pretty damn incredible."

You reached out for Pope, pulling him down on the other side of you.

"I still can't believe you made me cum," you said after a while.

JJ smiled cockily. "I knew I would. Best skills on the cut."

God, he was gonna lord this over you forever...

"Well, I don't know, JJ, maybe it's just really not that hard when I've got someone else to occupy my mind with. Guess Pope's gotta try it next time, then we'll know for sure."

Pope's breath quickened in your ear. "Next time?"

You shrugged. "Figured we can't uncross this line, might as well take advantage. If you guys want to, that is," you added hastily.

The way Pope whispered 'of course' in your ear had you clenching your legs again, starting to imagine exactly what that next time might look like.

"We will forever be at your service, ma'am," JJ grinned.

"Ma'am, huh?" You repeated suggestively, "don't mind if I do..."

JJ's smile dropped into his throat. "Seriously?"

You looked between the two of them, hanging on your lips, practically salivating at the thought and you shook your head laughing.

"Jesus Christ, I'm kidding!"

Both boys instantly deflated.

"Tease," JJ hit you with a pillow.

You shrugged, a pensive look crossing your face. "Then again..."

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank x pope heyward #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #jj x pope #jj x pope x reader #pope obx #pope heyward #pope x reader #pope x jj #jj maybank smut #jj x pope smut #jj x pope x reader smut #pope x reader smut #jj maybank fanfiction #pope heyward fanfiction

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safination · 7 months ago

Text

The Second Time Around

|Masterlist|

Alastor shakes his head, chucking a little. Each puff of his laughter cranes your head up and down. “Mother would strangle me if she learned what I’m doing with you,” he says. “Oh, she would go bonkers and grab my ears, telling me I was raised better than this.” “What exactly are you doing to me besides lulling me into sleep after filling my belly with the most exquisite food.” “We’re living together.” You pull away, looking at him to motion to the house. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’ve been living together for the past two years. Well, ten if you count our life up top,” you say with a snicker. “Living together is the least sinful thing we’ve done together!” Alastor shakes his head, pushing you up to your feet. TLDR: Alastor prides himself in being a gentleman, yet here he is now, living with his not-really wife but still his wife without rings around your fingers. It’s time he changed that.

Just a small little fic. I'm working on some requests right now, so to those who requested, I didn't forget about you, don't worry <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor adjusts his hold, securing your body with a firm hold as he carries you on his back. The pads of his thumb go up and down the skin of your leg, and each movement lulls you deeper into him.

Strands of his hair brush your cheek when you rest your chin on his shoulder. They caress your skin every time Alastor takes a step, humming a song as he walks down the street. It’s a familiar tune.

Night-time air blows cold, even in Hell. Despite already wearing Alastor’s coat, the breeze forces you to sink deeper into his back. It’s warm—he’s warm.

The pads of your fingers draw circles on his dress-shirt as you press yourself into him. Closer…the desire to be closer never ends. It’s like a never-ending fire that consumes you with every touch. How unfair of Alastor to hold this kind of power over you.

It's funny—hilarious, even.

The same scent of detergent emanates from your clothes, but there’s this undertone in Alastor’s coat. It’s a whole mix of different scents but to you, it’s just Alastor. Nothing less and nothing more. How can the same batch of laundry produce such a different smell?

There’s a metaphor somewhere there that Alastor can probably find. Your clothes. His clothes. The same smell of laundry detergent, but each piece holds a different whiff.

You tighten your grip on Alastor’s shoulders, steading yourself to lean back and stare at the sky.

The sudden shift of weight causes Alastor to stumble back. His leg shoots out to keep your bodies stable. Still, you lean your head back to watch the reddened sky. Clouds filter across its red canvas, prompted by the cooled winds of Hell.

“Dearest…if we fall, I will blame you.” Alastor scowls, and the faintest of static emits due to his annoyance. It’s something he’s still learning to control, and you let this offense pass…for now.

“We?” you echo, smiling into his shoulder. “Does this mean you would fall into the ground with me, my love?”

“Perhaps…,” Alastor begins, keeping his eyes ahead, “…I…I should skip a few steps and drop you right now. Oh, that would be quite the hilarious sight! Just the thing to end the night.”

A laugh escapes into the air and echoes across the dirty streets. You crash your weight forward, pressing your chest against his back.

Alastor stumbles forward, catching himself just in time to keep your bodies from falling. “I will actually drop you if you continue this childish behavior of yours.”

You settle yourself on Alastor’s back and press a small kiss on his shoulder. “My feet are starting to feel better. You don’t need to carry me,” you begin but wrap your arms around his neck, “my darling…my sweetest, sweetheart.”

“It’s you who insisted on wearing these blasted shoes. I told you to wear practical ones.” Alastor makes a face, pointing his nose into the air…but still, he presses his lips down on the skin of your arm. “I would say, ‘It paints me to tell you so’ but we both know that isn’t true.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“Dearest.”

“Yes?”

“I told you so,” Alastor says, and despite him looking away, you can practically see the smile on his face. “It doesn’t pain me to do so at all. Actually, it brings me great joy knowing I was correct.”

“I hate you.” The words are mumbled into his back.

“Now, now,” Alastor says. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Al…I love you.”

“I know,” he tells you, pressing another kiss on your arm. “I love you.”

“That’s sweet but if you truly loved me, you would have told me we’d be dancing after dinner,” you say, banging your forehead on his back with a small huff. It’s a poor attempt to hide your shy smile. “Go on then, drop me if carrying your wife bothers you so much.”

Alastor keeps his eyes ahead as he walks, angling his head to connect with you. “That’s quite the ridiculous notion, considering we’re already home.”

You try to slip out of Alastor’s hold.

“Dearest, we’re still at the gate,” he says, shaking your body to force you to wrap around his neck tightly. “We haven’t reached the door yet—sit still.”

“Al, I can walk the rest of the way,” you tell him but still…you settle back into his hold. “The door is right there.”

Alastor keeps silent, intent on walking to the entrance of your home with you on his back.

He struts past the garden, and walks straight up the porch, landing you gently on the rocking chair. The pads of his fingers trail down your leg until they catch the soles of your shoes. Alastor slips them off your feet, revealing the red spots that mark your skin.

Alastor kneels before you, one leg propped up like a stool for your foot. Ha! It’s quite the sight to see the Radio Demon on his knees for his wife.

The pressure he uses to massage your feet brings instant relief to the buzzing of pinched nerves. His thumb glides over a particular aching spot that forces a hum of delight out your lips.

Maybe wearing the wrong shoes wasn't such a bad thing…and maybe, you should wear the wrong shoes more often.

With Alastor’s gentle attention, your feet stop aching.

Alastor takes your hand, pulling you to stand off the rocking chair. He takes the seat from you, but before you can begin to huff, Alastor pulls you on top of his lap. Your legs lean against the arm rest as you curl between his legs and into his hold, pressing deeper into his chest.

You flick the ends of his bowtie, and take the monocle resting on his face. The round glass connects to a chain. “Do you actually need this?”

“Sometimes.” Alastor rests his chin on your head.

The monocle distorts your vision as you bring it closer and farther to check the grade. “You didn’t need this when you were alive.”

“That’s because I had glasses.” Alastor snatches his monocle, and places it back on his face. “You smudge it.”

“I liked those glasses,” you say. “They were very handsome, and suited you very, very, handsomely.”

Alastor hums, rocking the chair to bring you into a lull. The breeze of the night forces you to pull his coat closer around your shoulders, eyes drooping as you settle between Alastor’s legs. This moment will pass, and soon Alastor will force you to your feet and into proper clothes then into a proper bed.

That’s later…this is now.

And right now, you’ll inhale the soft scent of sulfur from Hell’s air while chasing that precious mix of Alastor’s scent. And right now, you’ll lean into the heavy hand that soothes your back, grounding you into his arms.

Alastor presses a kiss on your forehead. “My dearest.”

“Hmmm?” you say, letting the lull take hold.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” He brushes a palm across your head, patting the strands that stick out. “I need to know if you had fun.”

“It was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“What exactly are you doing to me besides lulling me into sleep after filling my belly with the most exquisite food.”

“We’re living together.”

You pull away, looking at him to motion to the house. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’ve been living together for the past two years. Well, ten if you count our life up top,” you say with a snicker. “Living together is the least sinful thing we’ve done together!”

Alastor shakes his head, pushing you up to your feet.

He presses a kiss on your ring finger, letting his lips linger across the skin. “I am a gentleman,” Alastor tells you, and each word brushes your skin. “My mother raised me to act with honor…yet, here I am living in our house, sharing a bed with you, all without being married.”

“Alastor, we are married,” you say. “Was tonight’s dinner not meant to celebrate our anniversary?”

“You’re forgetting that our vows ended with, ‘till death do us part’,” Alastor says, wagging his finger at you. “I died…and so did you. Death parted us, yet it also brought me to you once more.”

Alastor lowers to his knees, your hand still secured around his own.

There’s a smile on your lips that you don’t remember smiling, and the words tumble out on their own. “Yes.”

“My dear,” Alastor starts, sighing. “I haven’t even said anything. The ring isn’t even in my hands yet.”

“Okay…okay,” you say, laughing into the air. “Sorry—go on, please. I won’t interrupt you.”

“Let me finish.” Alastor reaches into his pocket, bringing out a small box. It’s just the right size to hold a ring. “Will you—”

“Yes.”

“—let me finish?”

You flash your most innocent smile. “I’m sorry. I promise to stay silent.”

“From this day on, I never wish to be parted from you,” Alastor tells you. “Death or no death. I am to be your husband, and stay in this house until eternity ends.”

You squeeze his hand. “Yes.”

“Dearest…,” Alastor says with a warning tone, but squeezes your hand back. “Will you do me the honor of re-marrying me?”

“Yes,” you say once again. “Always…I will always say yes to you.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, allowing his lips to linger for what seems like a lifetime—the same lifetime you’ll spend together once more.

The next kiss lands on your other cheek.

A kiss to the forehead.

A kiss on the edges of your lips.

Alastor runs his thumb over the soft skin of your mouth. Breaths mix together with small huffs. The intoxication of his nose trailing up your face consumes your very being.

The back of his fingers caresses your face until they reach to tuck a strand behind your ear. His touch shifts to cup your face as the pads of his thumb swipe across your cheek. It’s over…you’ve fully lost yourself into him.

His lips brush above your own, torturing you slowly.

The hold on the back of your neck brings you closer until your noses crash into one another, and your forehead presses against each other. His mouth grazes yours, but never fully connects. Inches of breath separate your kiss, and every exhale only pulls you deeper into madness.

The lids of your eyes flutter to a close when he finally kisses you. Kiss after kiss after kiss. Your arms snake around his chest, pulling him closer into a hug.

The kisses he blesses you with are slow, as if he savors each and every one. Alastor kisses you like there’s no place he would rather be than pulling flush against his body like he was carved to fit you into his space.

Alastor slips the ring around your finger.

You’ve said ‘Yes’ once before, and you’ve said ‘Yes’, this second time around. The answer will always be the same throughout any lifetime or any world.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Tell me what you think! I quite like this short one. It's sweet and just hits the feels for me. School has been killing me. BUT DON'T WORRY I REALLY HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOUR REQUESTS. THEY'RE DRAFTED AND WILL BE COMPLETED

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife!reader #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x wife reader #human alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel imagines

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theroundbartable · 8 months ago

Text

Now I want more awkward crush Arthur.

Merlin *about to retire*: is that all, Sire?

Arthur *suddenly captivated by the fire dancing in Merlin's eyes*: uh... Of course. Yes. Always, as you said.

Merlin: what?

Arthur: what?

...

After a long, awkward dream, during a game of never have I ever:

Gwaine: have you ever had gay dreams?

Arthur: *chokes on drink from last round*

Gwaine: you okay, mate?

Arthur *coughing* who'd ever have dreams about THAT? With Merlin? Don't be ridiculous, Gwaine.

Gwaine: I never mentioned Merlin?

Arthur: *blanks* but it was implied

Gwaine: noo... I'm pretty sure I would not imply such a thing if I knew it made you so flustered.

Arthur: well, anyways. I'm not going to drink on it because this never happened. *Chucks a whole glass of wine*

...

Lancelot suggesting at an inn that Merlin and Arthur share a room.

Arthur: what? No, we - this is inappropriate!

Lancelot: *jesting* Merlin is not a fair maiden. You don't have to protect his virtue

Arthur: that- but he's - i didn't mean - he couldn't have-

Merlin: Arthur, are you alright?

Arthur: did you? Lose your virtue?

Merlin: when I was 16. Jeez, Arthur, what the hell are you on about? We can share a bloody room, don't be a prat! Unless you have any virtue we need to protect?

Arthur: *sputtering nonsensically* maybe a little?

Lancelot: what do you mean, a little?

...

*Merlin dressing as a noble to fool some bandits. He and Arthur exchanged clothes and now Arthur is wearing Merlin's tight jacket that smells like him, while Merlin looks like a regal King. He even walks like one*

Gwaine: Oi, princess, you good?

Arthur: *in a daze* uhu

Gwaine: *waves hand in front of Arthur's unmoving eyes* I think we broke him

...

Princess: *trying to flirt with Arthur* maybe we should go somewhere else? to talk?

Arthur: *watching Merlin from afar* hmm? No, I'm good

Princess: you, eh - *follows gaze* oh my. That servant of yours is quite attractive, isn't he?

Arthur: yeah. *Realizes what he said* eh - what? Sorry, I wasn't listening. What were you saying?

Princess: I believe I've lost this battle, my Lord. *Leaves*

Arthur: uh - what?

...

Arthur: *undressing for bed*

Merlin: *stares*

Arthur: what is it, Merlin? Would you like to request a painting, it'll last longer.

Merlin: hmm... Would you do a nude for me?

Arthur: *voice breaking* now?

Merlin: i was - joking

Arthur: oh *chuckles awkwardly* yes, of course. Sure. ...

Merlin: go on - get ready for bed

Arthur: yes, sure, sure, of course *sweats*

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #arthur #concept #pining Arthur #I think it's funny

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whore-ibly-hot · 2 months ago

Text

"Special Delivery."

Yan!Boarding school stoner (Tyler) x Fem reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: P in V sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, drugging, mentions of weed, class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, general yanderes, mention of drugs, taking advantage.

"Come on, it'll be funny!" Tyler whines through the door, and all you can do is sigh. The schools premiere culinary student and local pothead is standing in the hallway just outside your dorm, boxed up thing of greasy breadsticks, chicken parm, and an oven fired pizza in hand. Hand brushing back his hair, he knocks his forehead lightly against the door. "Cmonnnnnnnn, if you don't let me in now, Carters gonna chase me off n' we won't be able to hang out at all, even without this-"

He's taken aback as the door swings open, revealing you in your late night garb, prepped for movie night. He's thrilled to see you, and immediately enters the spiel he had prepared. Dropping the pizza box a little lower over his crotch playfully, he raises his voice a bit so you have to let him in your room. "Hey, pizza delivery," he coos, "got an order for DORM 113!" He yells over his shoulder, prompting you to drag him in with an embarrassed groan. "Somebody called in for an extra large sausage?"

"Gross, keep it down!" You scold, letting him in as you shake your head. "What is wrong with you?" He shuffles in and sets down the food.

"What? Am I not good enough, you specifically asked for the Italian place to send their sexiest delivery guy."

"Oh, was he off tonight?" You ask, and Tyler slaps his hand over his chest in mock offense. Flopping onto your bed, feeling the worn, school-provided material squeak and rustle below your weight. You roll over to face him. "Well, despite you being fuckin gross, I'm sure the food is good. What did you bring?"

"Got some Chicken Parm, some soggy-ass buttery breadsticks, and my Tyler special." He proudly holds up the box.

"A new special? Seems like everytime we talk you've got a new signature special dish."

"Nah, this one is definetly the best my-my genius science man brain has come up with, dude!" He assures, flipping open the box. The smell of warm baked cheese and pizza wafts to your nose.

Smiling, you both take some bites of the pizza, topped with all sorts of odd things. It's nice, admittedly, it does taste good. "Thanks for coming over, Tyler. This food does all look amazing."

"Course, man. Anything for my favorite newbie." He assures. The pair of you tuck in to the food, gorging yourself on the delicious food.

"Where's Pez?" You ask curiously as you lean back on your bed, having chucked a paper plate away and cleaned up a bit. You don't want any clutter on Harrisons side of the dorm.

"Where do you think, man?" Tyler groans, scooting back. "He's got detention again. He wanted to smoke a fat one before class but I was like 'Nah, let's just take one of my bomb-ass pot brownies, cause I knew he'd get caught cause this grass he's been using lately has a crazy sce-"

"Tyler." You giggle, looking at him and he shrugs, putting his hands up.

"My bad, sorry, back on track. Anyways, like I said, he totally got caught, and now he doesn't get to chow down. Shoulda listened to me, man." He brags. After a moment, he sits back up and glances away. "So, listen, we've eaten and stuff, what do you wanna do now?" He asks, though you can see him tilting a head back to his bag. "Dessert?" He suggests.

"You didn't-" You say, as he gets a small baggie from his backpack and gives it to him. "I told you, Pez wanted to have that blunt, so I had some extra edibles, you know?" He explains. "Okay, I promise I put some good shit in here, some new strain I bought. Were gonna get kinda sleepy, but to be fair it could just be the pasta." You take one and do a silly little cheers motion before taking a bright of the dense, moist brownie.

"Its great." And it is. For a bit. After the brownie settles in your stomach, a new feeling begins settling in there too. Something warm, tingling. "Mhmm, uh, Tyler? Are you feeling okay?" Glancing at him, his tan skin is flushed, eyelids a little droopy.

"I dunno, man. I feel kinda funky, and not like, in a bad way?" He's laying down on your bed, chest fast against your pillows.

"Maybe something was off with that weed?" You ask, shaking your head and woozy standing. The room spins a bit, and the pleasurable throb in your waist continues. "Let's go to the nurse. We can lie and say we just ate something bad."

Tyler doesn't get up to follow you. "N-nah, I'm sure it's just the food settling, probably. Let's stay here." He whines.

"No, cmon, Tyler. We could get really sick-" You tug on his limp arm to get him to sit up, only to figure out why he was so hesitant. "Oh!" You immediately drop him.

"Told you. Don't think it's 'bad weed' doing this. Sorry." He admits, looking down.

"So we're like, on those gas station sex pills or something? You said this was supposed to be a relaxing strain!" You exclaim. "That it'd help us sleep!"

"I thought it would! You know, keep up all warm and fuzzy till we drifted off... the label said 'bed fever'." He trails off, and you immediately freeze.

"Tyler, that's not-"

"Aw, shit!" He smacks his forehead and drops his face into his hands. He's clearly embarrassed and still sporting an erection which he tries to hide as best he can in his loose shorts. "I wasn't even thinking, that isn't what that means at all, is it?" You shake your head. "Feel like such a perv. I'm sorry man, I ruined this. Uh, maybe there's a way online to reverse it."

You shake your head and sit next to him. "No, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to, and to be fair you were probably high when you bought this." He nods, brown eyes sad and wide as he looks at the floor. You gently brush his long black hair behind his ear, rubbing his arm. "Its okay, it really is. We... I know harrisons out for a game, we can hunker down in here 5ill it passes."

"I know what to do." Tyler perks up, smacking his knee as he does it with courage. He seems determined. "Let me make it up to you."

"What?" You exclaim. It's your turn to flush, cheeks reddening as you swallow. "I don't know what you mean-"

"Its not gonna go away, you said so yourself. And if Harrison isn't coming back, you shouldn't have to suffer cause I accidentally laced your shit." He grabs your hand and squeezes it with his soft but callous ones. Another goes to your head. "See, you're burning up just like me, man-"

"I'm really fine." You lie. If the weed wasn't having an effect, his desperate and caring words paired with his big hands on you certainly was.

"Nah. I know it's having an effect, I'm hard as a rock right now, never seen my dick this mad. I know you've gotta be jonesing for some friction right now, babe." He puts a hand just over your inner thigh, but doesn't go further. "We don't have to, but if you'd let me I'd focusing on making it good for you. Making it up to you for my mistake; no reason you should have to be sitting there with a wet fucking kitty between those legs aching for something good cause of my mistake and me not giving it to-"

"Okay!" You yell. "Okay, just stop talking like that, we can have sex. Just keep it down." You've never heard him speak that bluntly about sex, he's more of an innuendo guy, but the weed clearly is having an effect. Still, it's sweet he seems so worried about your pleasure right now.

"You won't regret it. I'm gonna make this good for both of us, I promise. Gonna out-" He pauses and laughs as he slips of his shorts, making you raise a brow. "Gonna put this extra large sausage to good use."

You scoff and smack his chest. "I'll just touch myself if you're gonna be corny while we do this." You warn as you undress, dropping panties down of your legs and kicking them across the room.

"I'm not against seeing that either, but this is about me making it up to you." He reminds you. You both don't even bother with your stops, your pussy is throbbing in a way that makes your legs shake, and Tyler's still attentive even in his state of arousal. "Lay down man, no reason to be sitting. Gonna wear out those pretty thighs before we even get down to it." He adjusts some pillows behind you so they can properly cradle you to look at him without straining you. He wraps your legs up around his waist, the very ends of his hair tickling your feet. His touch is firm, but he's clearly taking in the scene in a calculated way. You've only seen him focus this hard on his passion for cooking, though you suppose this moment has plenty of 'passion' too.

"How do you wanna play this?" He asks, and you tilt your head, confused and resisting just humping away at his front for any kind of stimulation. "I mean, I know I'm aching to get my dick in you, but this is about you. You want it slow, o-or fast, or I can even just eat you out, I hadn't thought about you not wanting me in-" He's rambling now, his focus melting to anxiety. You press a single finger to his lips, and it seems to calm himself a bit. He sighs and looks down sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I want you in. Not too fast, but set a good pace. I'll let you know what feels good. I'm not used to what I like when I'm on weird horny-weed."

He laughs, one hand adjusting his meaty tip against your folds. Just the feeling makes you twitch, and as much as you would usually like taking your time with something as... impressive as his cock, you're both enduring the full brunt of the aphrodisiac now. You let out a slight hiss at the sudden stretch as he pushes in, but the drug has ensured your well lubricated.

"Shit..." He groans, sinking further to sheathe himself in your heat. "God, you feel so wet, so fucking wet. Holy shit- i-is this okay?" Through his own pleasure, he's resisting the urge to just start pounding away to make sure he's not going to deep to quick.

"No, s' good." You confirm, let the feeling of his hot member getting settled in you wash over you. "You can move, maybe just... angle a bit? Up?" You grumble.

He nods, adjusting his angle as he begins to roll his hips in and out of your limp form. You moan, feeling his weeping tip almost immediately brush an electric spot deep within you. "Fuck, god, yeah, there. Mm, right up there. You're really good at this."

He smiles, sweetly burying his head against your neck as he instinctively kisses a tender spot. His hands steady your hips as he thrusts away. "I'm good at following instructions, man." He groans. "S' why I'm such a good cook."

You snort, he can't seem to stop cracking jokes, even when he's balls deep in you. It's not long before the knot in your stomach grows tighter.

"Tyler, baby-" You feel his length twitch at the pet name. "Think it's happening, think I'm about to finish-" he nods his head rapidly along to each of your words.

"Lemme cum too, yeah? Not inside, but lemme cum with you, please, please man-" He's begging. "You're just fucking gripping down on my shit, and I-"

"Its okay, I'm on the pill." The idea of finishing inside is what sends him over the edge. His hips pick up the pace, cock eagerly seeking out the spongy spot inside you that makes you cry out as he spurts one, then two hot streams of cum.

"Fuck, fuck yeah, right there-" You're ability to keep quiet for fear of nearby dorm students hearing you disappears as the knot inside you zaps away into a red-hot pulsing in your womb. Groaning, you both ride out the high till he collapses just over you, continuing to nibble and kiss at your neck as a string of curses and praises leaves his loose lips.

After a moment, when the weed and the sex high seem to have worn off, he grabs some napkins that came with the food, rather unceremoniously dabbing you clean before chucking them. "Water for the lady," he hands you a cup, and you smile weakly from where you've wallowed in your sheets.

He grabs his boxers and slides them back on before finishing the food clean up you had begun. "No, Tyler, let me help with that." You try to stand, but he just gently pushes you back down. "Nah. I brought it, I'll clean up. Besides, I'm sure you've never had a guy rail your guts like that before, and you need to rest." He puts his hands up with a cheeky grin. "I appreciate the compliment. Huffing, you just roll over.

"Just..." You pause. He turns from where he was at your door, trash bag in hand and tilts his head. "Just come lay down when you're done." Another smile adorns his face. "Of course, man." He smiles.

In the hallway, there's a small 'ping' from his phone that gets his attention. A contact with a rather childish photo of Pez holding up a middle finger pops up. He looks at the message.

"How'd it go?" The message reads. Tyler types back.

"Fine. We had a good time, she's real fucking sweet. A total babe, keeps a cute room."

Another 'ping'. "You know what I meant. The weed, I told you it was intense, I tried it once." The text reads. "Thought my dick would fall off. You didn't use too much, right?" Pez asks.

"Course not." Tyler responds, typing with one hand as he chucks a trash bag into the chute. "I'm good at following instructions."

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #fem reader #yandere stoner #yandere boarding school x reader #yandere boarding school #oc tyler #oc tyler x reader

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warping-realities · 1 month ago

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All For The Family - Part 2

“Ryan… Ryan… bro… wake up!”

Brian didn’t wanna wake up; that dream was where he wanted to be. No worries about work, no competition with his brother… brother? What brother…?

“Ryan, brother, get up… NOW!!!” Someone yelled, chucking a pillow at him, waking him up with a start.

Br-Ryan shot up, “WTF? What’s with the pillow, RJ?”

“We’re late for work, you dumbass! Dad’s gonna skin us alive if we take too long. Get your act together!” The muscular guy in front of him said. Ryan still remembered the dream, envying the other guy’s body. Could he ever reach that size? Wait, why would he want to be that big? Something felt off… that dream… and…

“Dude! Get up right now or I’m dragging your skinny ass outta there!”

“Okay, okay, just let me take a shower and brush my teeth!” Ryan replied, getting up and deciding to worry about strange dreams during his downtime. Easier said than done, because as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, a surprise awaited him.

“What The Fuck!” he exclaimed, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The skinny physique he was used to had been replaced by a toned body, like he actually lifted weights, either at the gym or on the job. The physique in front of him was the same as in that dream… had it really been a dream? Maybe it was a memory… but how could he remember something he never lived? Or had he lived it? While he tried to process that info, he was interrupted by RJ, standing in all his muscular glory at the bathroom door. Had he gotten even bigger in the last few minutes? No way, that’d be impossible!

“Bro, you’re playing with fire! I know you’ve made some sick gains since you started working here, but now’s not the time to be admiring yourself!” said the muscle giant, though he sounded more satisfied than scolding. More importantly, that explanation made sense in Ryan's confused mind, causing a smile to spread across his face as golden sparks surrounded him.

“Okay bro, just a minute. I really gotta pee.” He said while sniffing his armpit, finding the smell acceptable; even if it wasn’t, he knew the shower would have to wait. After a long pee, he grabbed his clothes tossed by the bed—a worn-out pair of jeans, a tank top, and work boots—and headed for the kitchen, following the familiar path he had taken for months. The first thing he noticed was the delicious aroma of Mrs. Abernathy’s cooking. Following that scent, he found her chatting with Debra, lunch already well underway. The two didn’t even seem to notice his entrance into the cozy farmhouse kitchen; they were so caught up in their lively conversation. For some reason, Mrs. Abernathy looked more radiant today, as if the weight of a few years had been lifted from her, and even Debra seemed to glow. It must be the joy they were sharing at that moment, Ryan thought.

Not wanting to interrupt, he turned to the table where the two biggest guys he’d ever known were seated, Mr. Abernathy, Roy, and Roy Jr., RJ. They both smiled at him, taking up the whole kitchen with their massive frames.

“Jesus, Ryan. You took your sweet time, son. Sit down and eat a good meal; today’s gonna be busy, so even though we’re late, I don’t wanna risk seeing you hit the floor from lack of fuel!” Roy said, still smiling, but that last part made something click in Ryan’s mind, something about…

“And what about my car?”

“Oh bro, don’t sweat it, we’ll check it out at some point today, either after lunch or later in the afternoon. Now, do what Dad said and stuff your face!” RJ replied. Realizing he was starving, Ryan sat at the table and began piling food onto his plate, way more than he’d ever eaten in his life… or had he? He had the distinct feeling that this was the usual routine every morning since he started working here… so why did it feel so… new? He was trying to wrap his head around that incongruity when a loud burp next to him made him turn to RJ, who was laughing openly.

“Damn, that was a big one! Come on, Ryan, show us what you got!”

“I… I don’t know if… I should!”

“Come on, son, better out than in, and with all you’ve eaten, your stomach must be bubbling.” Roy encouraged as Ryan realized what he was saying was true; he was stuffed, and something was pushing up from his stomach with high pressure until “Burrrrrp.” Ryan let out an even bigger burp than RJ’s. It sent all the guys at the table into fits of laughter, while Mrs. Abernathy shot them a disapproving glance.

“Boys, have some manners at the table!” she said with a serious expression.

“Marisa, leave the boys alone; boys will be boys, right?”

“Then let them be far away from my kitchen!”

“Alright, alright! Time to get to work, boys… and Ryan, I’m really proud of you; you’re showing yourself to be the right kind of man!”

Hearing that made Ryan beam, golden sparks erupting around him once again.

After that, the real work began. Harvesting was tough. The more experienced Roy and RJ took turns driving the combine and the truck that collected the grains, while Ryan helped guide the flow of seeds to make sure they didn’t fall in the wrong spot. Every grain counted, given the family’s tight financial situation. Ryan wondered how they managed without him? Having been there for a year, arriving shortly after the last harvest, he now understood why the family treated him with such care; the work must have gotten a lot easier with him around. After they finished the hearty lunch delivered by Debra in generous portions, without even leaving their vehicles, Roy called for a break. There were only a few acres left to harvest, which could be done the next day. So if the boys wanted, they could work on Ryan’s old Mustang.

As they arrived at the barn, laughing and chatting like the good friends they were, RJ asked Ryan to wait while he grabbed the tools for the car repair. Still chuckling at a story RJ had just told him, Ryan sat down on an old bench. This was the first moment he’d been alone for more than a few seconds since he arrived at the Abernathy home… from where? Didn’t his car have a problem? But his car was currently covered by an old tarp in one corner of the barn and looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting dust. He was sure he had been working for Roy for a year now, but where had he worked before that? The answer that popped into his mind was a bank? But that didn’t make sense; why would he work at a bank? Those were the thoughts racing through the young man’s mind, with light brown hair and well-toned muscles, until he was interrupted by a persistent voice.

“Ry… Ry… RY!!! What’s up, bro? You look like you’re on another planet!”

Ryan looked up to see RJ holding a wrench, his work tank top discarded somewhere along the way, and a worried expression on his face.

“Hey… b-bro… do you remember where I worked before I came here… was it at a bank? I can’t seem to recall what I did after college…”

“Ry… this is a joke, right? Someone like you could never work at a bank! And college? Guys like us don’t do that!”

“Guys like us…?”

“Yeah, man, guys of the land, manual labor, real men. Like me, like you!” RJ replied, smiling.

“You think I’m like you?”

“Of course, you’re exactly like me!”

Hearing that sparked a fire of acceptance in Ry’s chest, which somehow led to another wave of golden sparks surrounding him as a smile spread across his face.

“Now let’s get to work on what you’ve been itching to do, let’s fix your car, bro!”

“Hell yeahh!”

Hours passed as the two worked on Ryan’s red Mustang; there was a lot to do, but luckily they both knew their way around cars. Right after leaving school, Ry had jumped from city to city taking on various jobs, the longest being at a mechanic shop, where he had coincidentally acquired the car they were now trying to fix.

“Man, I’ve always been obsessed with cars. To me, the American Muscle Car is the pinnacle of automotive achievement!” an excited RJ said.

“Dude, I totally agree with you. I needed to have this beauty here. I knew with the right work, it’d be perfect! I don’t get why my brother got so mad at me!” Ry replied, stopping immediately after that comment. Did he have a brother?? Then why couldn’t he remember his face or even his name? He wondered, an expression of anguish creeping his bearded man's face as his defined muscles involuntarily tensed in discomfort.

“Shit…” RJ muttered quietly before quickly recovering. “Your brother? Bro, I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a brother, and I’d never criticize you for buying a badass car like this! It’s like you haven’t learned in all these years we’ve known each other that I’ll support you even in your cra ziest ideas, just like you support me in mine, and buying the Mustang isn’t even close to being as wild as some of the things I’ve done!”

“Years…?”

“Now you’re really worrying me, brother! Dude, we’ve known each other since we were kids! My greatest joy was when you came to work with us right after we graduated. Can you imagine? Working with my best bro!”

“Best bro? I… I’m your best bro?”

“Of course you are, Ty! You and I are best bros for life!”

“Best bros…” Ty repeated, a smile breaking across his face as the biggest wave of golden sparks enveloped him, his strong, toned muscles relaxing as he looked at his lifelong best friend.

“Sorry, man, I’m feeling kinda weird today.”

RJ, sensing that the thinh they are doing was coming to a close, went for the final push while discreetly notifying Roy that their plan was nearing its climax.

“Chill out, man, I know just the thing to help! How about we take a break here and really work out? My muscles are aching for a pump, and even though you’re not a skinny twig anymore, you still have a ways to go to catch up to me.”

“This is definition, bro!”

“No, this is malnourishment, Ty! Let’s head to the back right now.”

The two moved toward the back of the barn, where there was a separate room that, to Ty’s surprise, was basically a fully-equipped old-school gym.

“Wow man, this is sick as hell!”

“Ty, bro! You talk like you don’t live here with me and haven’t used Dad’s gym since we were kids, even though you still seem like a little weakling to me.” RJ said, grinning.

“Shut up, asshole!” Ty shot back, mirroring RJ’s smile. But that quickly faded as he sat down, lost in thought.

“But it’s true, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. It feels like something’s off with me. You’ve spent the whole day reminding me of things I already know; I feel fine for a while, and then everything gets muddled again. Am I going crazy?” he questioned RJ who was standing right in front of him, wearing nothing but some extremely short shorts that showcased his massive muscles.

“Ty, bro, you need to stop worrying about that. Now it’s time to work out and try to get close to this!” he said, flexing his powerful chest and arms.

“I… work... out? Yes! But… I… don’t remember… that’s what I’m telling you… there’s something… missing…”

Before RJ could respond, a deep voice interrupted them.

“Can I know what’s going on here?” Asked Roy Abernathy in his work clothes with a serious expression.

“Roy… Mr. Abernathy… I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I wasn’t feeling well, and RJ wanted to cheer me up…”

“I know, son. What I want to know is why you didn’t say anything. You’re like a son to me, TJ. I expected you to see me as a father too!”

“Like a… father?”

“Of course, boy! I’ve watched you play with RJ in these fields since you could fit in the palm of my hand. I’ve followed your football games from Pop Warner all the way to the state championship semifinals in high school. You’ve brought me as much pride as my own son, boy.” Said the bigger man with a smile.

That seemed to trigger the golden sparks once again.

As the trademark smile spread across TJ’s face, knowing how little time they had left before their work was finished, Roy quickly stripped down, donning only some shorts that were just as tight and short as his son’s. His muscular body was less defined but much larger in mass and power.

“Let’s go, kid, take off those pants and show me what you’ve got! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll match this!” he said, flexing his arm and grinning.

“I think that’s pretty unlikely, Roy, but let’s see what I can do!” TJ replied, smiling.

“Start with the warm-up, son! How about some squats?” Roy suggested as the younger man positioned himself.

“And, TJ?”

“Yes?” TJ answered, starting the exercise.

“My friends call me Roy. My sons call me Dad! Show me who you really are, son!”

That phrase, amidst his concentration on the exercise, ignited a new wave of golden sparks. As TJ squatted down and pushed up, his mind flooded with various memories: childhood days playing with his twin brother, who was just a few minutes older, under their father’s watchful eye. The two brothers, inseparable best friends, taking care of the farm chores together. The football games that had led them to the semifinals of the state championship. The decision to stay on the farm to help their parents with the work. Finally, the gaps in his memory were filled. He finally knew who he was. With one final push upward, Tyler James Abernathy finished his warm-up set, smiling at his father and his brother.

“Warm-up done, old man; how about we move on to something real?”

“Not before you do what I asked; show me what you’re capable of. Flex for me, son!”

“Dad, come on!” TJ replied, a bit exasperated.

“Hey, are you gonna let an old man outdo you?”

Smiling at his dad, who despite being frustrating was still his greatest role model, TJ flexed his massive muscles as a grin spread across his face.

…..

As the sun set that day, the twins walked home, chatting animatedly after making significant progress on the Mustang’s repairs. However, they stopped dead in their tracks when they encountered an unexpected scene that made their cheerfull expressions turn serious.

Their father was standing with his arms crossed, staring at someone with his imposing physique blocking their view. But both knew their dad’s posture well enough, even from behind, to tell he was fuming. And a very angry Roy Abernathy was exactly what the other man was seeing.

“I already told you I haven’t seen the guy you’re looking for, officer!” Roy said, his voice steady but firm.

“I don’t want to doubt your word, Mr. Abernathy; I’m just asking to take a look around your property. The last I heard, my brother was supposed to come here yesterday. Brian is many things I don’t approve of, but irresponsible isn’t one of them,” the man said, stepping into the twins’ line of sight.

“Hey, you two, I’m Officer Lucas Harding. Have either of you seen my brother Brian?”

“Fuck!” exclaimed a startled RJ.

Just as Debra and Marisa Abernathy emerged from the house, and Roy turned to his sons. All eyes were fixed on TJ, who stood frozen in place while the same question ran through the minds of the rest of the family, what had gone wrong? Worse than that: what else could happen?

Continue....

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #musclegrowth #my story

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 months ago

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THE BATH- J. WASHINGTON

pairing: bf!josh x fem! reader

word count: who knows. small drabble

summary: you keep trying to have a bath at the lodge to warm up, but your golden retriever boyfriend josh keeps trying to come in and talk while you relax

warnings: none! nudity and light drinking, but all fluff

not proof read sorry for any mistakes!

not inspired by any song, but i listened to she calls me back by noah kahan while i wrote this, if people like music for vibes<3

got inspired for this drabble by none other then my cat, who keeps pushing the bathroom door open while im in the bath, and then leaves, and then when its shut he meows like crazy. yes josh is like a clingy cat.

it had been a long day, and the clock hadn't even struck ten yet. from hauling suitcases (josh hauling suitcases) and hours of (josh) driving, you had finally found yourself at blackwood mountain.

it was a relief, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the place, despite the dust and creepy noises from the old pipes. everyone had already arrived by the time josh rushed in to start a fire for you, after he sae you shiver.

he had rushed you up to the doors, wrapping you in his coat and sticking his beanie on your head, making his pretty dark hair all tossled. you smiled at the thought that had happened a few hours prior, the pepper of kisses all over your face as he rushed you inside, wrapping you in fresh blankets- leaving the mothcovered ones for mike and chris.

it was weird in a way, to be here this year.

this was the first time you were here as a couple. before this, it had been years of slight touches and teasing, drunk forehead kisses and praises. but finally- finally you had gotten your wish. and apparently, josh had too.

a little knock sounded at the door, and you poked your eye open towards the door, neck rolling lazily from where it rest on the side of the bath.

"mike if you come in here right now i will chuck this candle at you." you called. the door poked open a creak, and a familiar eye peered over at you. "am i immune to candle throwing?" josh asked, making you giggle.

"you're in the clear." you smirked, water sloshing as you adjusted yourself so your elbows perched on the edge towards him. "hi handsome. whats up?"

"i missed you." he shrugged crouching down to be at your height, a soft smile on his face. "i think its been.. like twenty? twenty mintues maybe?" you teased, making him roll his eyes.

"i also wanted to take advantage of this whole, bathroom thing. you know how many times i wanted to come in before? now i can. boyfriend access only." he smirked, hand coming up to brush your warm cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. his hand lingered and you leaned to kiss his inner wrist, savouring the softness of his skin.

"i think you're just a pervert. and clingy."

josh rolled his eyes. "god forbid men have hobbies. can i not be both?"

you laughed, kissing him again.

"i just wanted to come in to see if you needed anything. and cause i missed you, and chris is drunk and trying to get me to play president with him and matt."

he nearly became asshole in that game everytime. he was terrible at cards.

"what, you dont wanna be asshole again?"

"something like that. i like your ass though."

your eyebrow raised. "don't we all." you teased. "but hey, if you're offerring me something... maybe.. a glass of wine?"

he stood quickly, giving you a firm salute. he drank with you enough times to know exactly what kind you wanted without needing to ask. "godspeed pilgrim!" he ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open as he left.

"HEY! DOOR?! CLOSED PLEASE? IM NAKED!" you yelled out.

"OOOH NAKED?" you heard sam call out from the main room, making you roll your eyes. now you had them all riled up.

two seconds later, josh reappeared, glass of white in hand, water in the other. "thank you honey, but maybe next time shut the door? i almost had an audience." you cringed, taking the chilled wine glass from his hands. you took a sip, the sweet, dry liquid coating your throat.

"i get front row next time." he shrugged, planting a kiss on the top of your head before he snagged your towel.

"kay i'll leave you be baby. but im taking this so you have to come find me naked to dry off." he smirked, dangling the fabric in your direction before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

before you had time to protest, he was gone. you closed your eyes, sighing as you took another sip. he was such a tease. but thats what you loved about him. he never failed to make you laugh, he was so quick and witty.

it also meant he liked to get on your nerves, lovingly.

no longer then five minutes later, a knock was on your door. "yes?"

"its me again." josh murmered from behind the oak. you smiled, laughing softly.

"come in joshy." he sheeplishly smiled, sliding his large body through the doorway, firmly shutting it behind him. a deck of cards was in his hands as he approached you, sitting down on the tile floor next to the tub.

"can you play president with me?" he asked, starting to take the cards out of the paper box.

"baby, you can't play with two people."

he frowned. "well, can you teach me how to do this again? so i can kick everyones ass?"

you smiled. "of course baby. my sore, sore loser."

#until dawn josh #joshua washington #josh washington #josh washington x you #josh washington imagines #josh washington x reader #josh washington fluff #josh washington smut #josh until dawn #until dawn #until dawn remake #until dawn remaster #until dawn fanfics #rami malek x reader #rami malek #josh and sam #sam x josh

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.

Word count: 8.3k.

Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.

It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.

He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.

And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.

This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.

There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.

Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.

“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”

You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.

He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.

Not with me, the realisation follows.

And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.

But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.

All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.

“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”

Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”

“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”

“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”

“We didn’t—”

“Did you think of me?”

“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”

You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.

“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”

You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.

For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”

You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.

Now you’re laughing.

It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.

“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”

He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”

“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”

“No—”

“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”

“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”

No.

You will not.

You can’t.

You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.

You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.

“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”

“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”

“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”

“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”

You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”

“Y/N—”

“Go!”

Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.

He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.

But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.

“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”

You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.

His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.

“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.

The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”

“Send Cassian next time.”

He doesn’t deign to reply.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.

He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.

Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.

A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.

He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.

He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.

But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.

“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”

Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”

“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”

Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.

This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.

And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.

But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.

Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.

“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”

“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”

A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.

But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.

Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”

Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.

And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.

But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.

“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”

“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.

Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.

“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”

Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.

“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.

“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”

Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.

“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”

“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”

“I’ve never known any different.”

Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”

No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.

But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.

“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”

Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”

Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”

“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”

Bold, bold words.

Azriel finds himself stunned silent.

“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”

This is…bizarre, Az thinks.

He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.

Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.

Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.

And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.

“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.

Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.

“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”

Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”

“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”

And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.

Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.

Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.

It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.

He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.

“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”

Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”

“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”

Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.

But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.

Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.

“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.

A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”

“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”

“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”

In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.

He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.

And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.

Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.

But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?

“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”

Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”

“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”

Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”

Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.

He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.

“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”

Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”

Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.

When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.

But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.

And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.

Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.

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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.

She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.

He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.

It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.

“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”

Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.

Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”

“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”

It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.

But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.

“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.

“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”

“I have.”

“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”

Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”

Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.

But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.

“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”

“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”

“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”

“You—”

“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”

Azriel studies her.

Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.

So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”

“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”

“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”

“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”

“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”

Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”

“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”

The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.

But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”

“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”

Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.

But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”

There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.

Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”

His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.

Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.

And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.

This one feels like…like a ploy.

“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.

He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”

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The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.

At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.

Fuck. Him.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.

And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.

You’re sick of caring.

Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?

And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.

And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—

You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.

How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—

The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.

He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”

“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”

“Shove them up your ass.”

“I’d really rather not.�� He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”

Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.

“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”

Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.

“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”

“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.

Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”

“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”

“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”

“Cass—”

“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”

You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.

“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”

In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.

His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.

“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.

“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”

You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”

He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”

Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.

You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.

He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.

“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”

You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”

In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.

You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.

His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier. Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.

Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”

With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.

Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”

Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”

So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.

“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”

“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”

“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”

His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.

He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.

And then he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.

“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”

“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”

“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”

A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”

And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.

You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.

“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”

You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.

And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.

“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”

“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”

It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.

You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.

But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.

Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”

Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.

“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.

Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.

“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

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goldenempyrean · 7 months ago

Note

Do you think you could write a fic where we’re sick and our work place makes us show up to work, knowing fully well we are sick because we tried to call in but they denied us. Anyways Nat ends up wondering where we are because she came back from a mission and sees that their are utensils and tupperware around and medication bottles and just in general clues that we weren’t feeling well, so she goes to find us because she wants to see us and make sure we’re fine. Only to walk in on one of our managers yelling at us (in a public area) because we were slacking off at “our job” (a task that they told us to do for them but it’s not in our job description) when we were simply putting our head in our hands for a few minutes because we didn’t feel well. Anyways Nat swoops in, saves the day, and the manager miraculously gets fired, and we somehow have a better job.

If you write this thank you :) and if you don’t it’s fine

Too Good To Me

〚 Notes - Hey anon! God, let's not talk about how long this was sitting in my inbox. I wrote this while rewatching supergirl so I may start getting some of my old Alex requests done soon! :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Your boss wont let you take a sick day from work. Natasha isn't going to be happy when she finds out. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1620 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“Sorry Y/N, there’s nothing we can do. You’re just going have to suck it up and get yourself into work I’m afraid. We can’t afford any missing staff.”

“But I-“ Your hoarse objection was rudely cut off by the call clicking off. You stared at your phone in disbelief, a sinking feeling of dread settling in your stomach. The fever was making you lightheaded, and every muscle in your body ached, but you had no choice. You had to go to work today.

It was ridiculous honestly. Your boss knew you were sick, in fact the whole office was slowly coming down with whatever virus had been circulating. But it was coming to the end on the month meaning deadlines were approaching and it seemed meeting targets was more of a priority than employee wellbeing.

Dragging yourself out of bed felt like an insurmountable task, but you managed to get dressed and somehow make your way to the office - the only thing keeping you upright was several more doses of DayQuil then the recommended standard. Even though it was short the walk from the parking lot to the front door left you breathless, and by the time you sat down at your desk, a cold sweat had broken out across your forehead.

“Damn, you look awful.” One of your colleagues looked up over their desk at the sound of a series of sneezes you couldn’t quite hold back. They gave you a sympathetic glance and pulled out a packet of tissues and chucked them over.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, catching the tissues clumsily. You wiped your nose and tried to focus on your computer screen, but the words blurred together, and your head throbbed with each keystroke.

Meanwhile, Natasha had been having a fairly good day. Her mission had ended significantly earlier than she’d been expecting meaning she’d get to see you sooner. Of course, the two of you always kept in close contact whenever possible when she had to go on missions, but facetime was nowhere near as good as seeing you in person.

Nat couldn't wait to surprise you. She had picked up some of your favourite takeout and decided to swing by the apartment. However, as soon as she stepped inside, her smile faded.

The place was a mess. Not just a few stray cups or plates strewn about. The sink was piled up with unwashed pots. In the living room, the curtains were still pulled closed clouding the room in a dull haze. Meanwhile tissues and cough drop wrappers littered the coffee table amongst several half-empty medicine bottles.

Nat felt her heart melt a little at the thought of you being sick and alone. Keeping her movements a little quieter now, she crept towards your shared room, pulling open the door carefully. Natasha had expected to see you curled up beneath the blankets, but she frowned and flicked on the light in surprise when all she saw was an empty, unmade bed.

What the- wait, if you weren’t here then where were you?

Hunched over, coughing miserably at your desk. That was where. Around midday, your manager approached you with a stack of papers, slamming them in front of you. “I need you to handle these reports. They need to be done by the end of the day,” He ordered, barely sparing a glance to look at you.

“Sir, I’m really not feeling well,” You began, but he cut you off with a dismissive wave.

“Not my problem. Just get it done.” He walked off, not willing to waste another moment on you.

You stared blankly at the stack of papers, the text blurring in and out of focus. As time dragged on, you couldn’t stop yourself drifting in and out of a feverish haze, your productivity taking a swan dive.

Every so often, you caught your colleagues shooting you concerned glances, but no one dared to speak up. Everyone was aware of the hostile nature of your manager, and no one dared to speak up incase that temper of his was thrown their way.

Once an hour had passed, you could hardly keep your eyes open. You rested your head in your hands for just a moment, hoping to stave off the waves of dizziness. It was then that your manager reappeared, his face twisted with anger.

“What do you think you’re doing? Slacking off again?” he barked, drawing the attention of the entire office. Heads turned, and conversations halted as everyone watched the scene unfold.

“I-I’m just not feeling well,” you stammered, lifting your head to meet his furious gaze. Your vision swam, and you had to blink several times to focus.

“Excuses! Always excuses with you! If you can’t handle the workload, maybe you should find another job!”

“Excuse me, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Natasha’s stern voice cut through the room like a knife. Everyone turned to see her standing in the centre of the room, her posture radiating quiet fury.

“Scolding an incompetent employee,” Your manager blinked, momentarily taken aback. “And just who do you think you are?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” She kept a quick pace as she walked towards him, her eyes narrowing, “The Black Widow, Superhero, Avenger and Wife.”

Your manager's face drained of colour as Natasha's words sank in. He opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out. The entire office watched in stunned silence as she closed the distance between them.

Nat’s voice remained cold and steady. "If you have a problem with my spouse, you'll answer to me." She turned her attention to you when you ducked into your elbow was a stifled sneeze.

“Bless you sweetheart,” She murmured softly, swiping a tissue from a box on a nearby desk and handing it to you, “Come on, get your things, we’re going home.”

You stood shakily, relieved and grateful, but still a bit dazed at how Nat could even be here. The redhead wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you as you stumbled. "Lean on me baby," She murmured gently.

Nobody else said a word as the two of you made your way out the building. Once outside the fresh air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling slightly more grounded. Natasha led you to her car, helping you into the passenger seat before getting in herself.

"Thank you," You murmured, leaning back against the headrest before curling into your side with a harsh cough.

"Don't mention it sweetheart,” She replied as starting the engine, but you didn’t miss the way her brow crinkled as at the sound of you, “I'm sorry your boss is such a dick. How are you feeling?”

"Terrible," You mumbled, closing your eyes as you let your head rest against the cool glass window, “I’ve had a fever all day…. But you- you’re meant to be on a mission-“ Your voice was hoarse and cracked as you spoke.

“I’m not surprised,” Nat raised a hand to your forehead before gently cupping your cheek, “And I finished my mission early, I swung by the apartment and well, you can guess the rest.” She kept one hand on the wheel and the other lightly resting on your knee as she drove.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet, Nat didn’t want to force you to talk, and it was obvious from the way your head kept periodically bobbing forward that you were exhausted. 

By the time she’d pulled up to the parking lot, you had dozed off against the window, small stuffy snores letting her know you were out for the count. Of course, it would’ve been easier to wake you, but she just didn’t have the heart. Instead, Nat carefully made her way to the passenger door, unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you safely up into her arms.

Trying her best to jostle you, Natasha carried you up towards the apartment, opening the door with ease and stepping inside. “Mm?” You gave a groggy mumble as you slowly blinked awake.

“Shh, we’re home sweetheart.” Nat soothed you quietly, keeping her arm around your waist as she lowered you to be standing up by yourself.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the light in the room, and you made an audibly confused noise as you took in the surroundings. The place was spotless. The pots from earlier washed and stacked away. The stacks of tissues and wrappers had been thrown in the trash, the whole apartment looked fresh and clean - nothing compared to the absolute mess it had been several hours ago.

“You cleaned? You didn’t have to-“ You began but

Natasha cut you off with a gentle smile, her fingers brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “I wanted to,” she said softly. “You’ve been working hard and dealing with that jerk of a boss while feeling awful. You deserve to come home to a clean space.”

You leaned into her touch, feeling a wave of gratitude and relief. "Thank you," You murmured again, your voice still raspy as you sniffled quietly.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Nat led you to the bedroom, her arm still securely around your waist. She helped you sit down on the edge of the bed, then knelt to untie your shoes, “Now you best believe I’ll have your manager fired for how he behaved earlier.”

“You’re too good to me,” You murmured, watching her with tired eyes as you tried to hold back a yawn.

“You’re my world Y/N,” she replied simply, slipping off your shoes and guiding you to lie down. She pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in with care. “Now get some rest, you need it.”

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