#✨blazing answers

[blazingstarship]

🎫 Here’s a gush pass! Feel free to gush about whichever f/o you want, however much you want! \o/

HIIII!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH HUN!!💖💖💖

I am glad to see you again! I missed you!🫂🫂💖

Where to begin🙈 Well Yu.sei is still on my mind, I can hardly believe it’s almost six years ago since I fell in love with me.

Uhmmm….I have so many ideas for commissions to ask for spaceship but I am too shy or too afraid that people I am not familiar with are…very judgy?

Anyway! I am still not over dad Yu.sei I mean… HE IS SO HANDSOME I CANT KAKDKDKKDKD JUST😭😭😭

Also I got new merch! I will post it in another post but like I have a map of Yus! I can put my 5ds cards in them😭😭

[lm-tomatito]

DEAR LUM, For my birthday all I want is some ship art.

LOVE, Seaweed

UuU

Aw, so sweet! ;u; Well, I had promised a bit of shadaze✨ but I can always draw some other ships for you, so feel free to ask for them if you want uvu

[sunbitternb]

@outromoony bitch please my corfort charcters are three dragons and a transmasc dada teahcer

you cant fucking stop me

If your comfort character isn't dead, traumatized, gay, or a mass murderer... are they really your comfort character?

[bumblesimagines]

The Pup and The Cub

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While (Y/N) is eager to spend time with and help an old friend, he can't stand to be around his adoptive daughter. Until one night changes things.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Witcher warnings, sexual content, added a little bit of ✨spice✨, mentions of blood, accidental blood kink?? OOPS, virginity loss on both sides

I would've finished days ago if the universe hadn't decided to say fuck you each time I tried working on it

~~~

Summer was at its peak and (Y/N) wished for nothing more than to lay in the soft grass like a snake eager to bask in the sun rays peering down at them from the vibrant and cloudless sky. The baby blue of daytime was fading into a familiar shade of orange that reminded him of flames, mixing and swirling with a soft pink as the blazing sun slowly descended behind the trees.

His nose tickled when he inhaled the fresh air, and the comforting floral scents wafting from the wildflowers scattered around the expanding fields surrounding them reached him. Their vibrant colors splashed against the green sea and he watched them dance with the gentle breezes that blew by, a sense of serenity settling on his chest.

It felt nice to take a break, he admitted to himself. His childhood and early teen years were spent cooped up in Kaer Morhen with Vesemir, and while the mountain blossomed with life during spring and summer, it was nothing compared to the beauty around him now. He felt as if he could sit and stare out into the wilderness for hours without the startling howling winds of the mountain or Vesemir's grumbling.

His father had been reluctant to let him go so far from Kaer Morhen, but Geralt needed him now more than ever, even if it meant dealing with his adoptive daughter, the vexing Cub of Cintra. 

In all his years, (Y/N) had only ever seen Geralt smile and laugh so freely with his brethren, with his real family. Those rumbling laughs where he'd tilt his head back and find a fleeting moment of relaxation untypical of the usually guarded witcher were reserved for them, not for the girl.

Ciri was only around because of one stupid mistake Geralt had made years prior: taunting destiny and facing the consequences in the form of a spoilt little royal. He found victory in the knowledge Geralt had pointedly ignored her existence until she needed his protection.

He remembered the cold winter day he met her when he strode into Kaer Morhen with Eskel, eager to escape the chilling winds and reunite with his family, only to take note of the figure bundled up in furs giggling into her cup like the little girl she was (yes, (Y/N) only had two years on her, but that hardly mattered in his opinion) and flaunting her title of princess before them when questioned. Chin tilted up and brow arched challengingly, she made his skin prickle.

"Who brought the girl up here?" He'd asked in disbelief. It was against their code to reveal the secret location of the keep to anyone other than their brethren, so he naturally looked toward Lambert and Coen for an explanation, assuming it was all another prank from them that Vesemir was begrudgingly ignoring for the sake of their long-awaited reunion.

Instead, she answered, lips almost pulled into a scowl and speaking words that had him turning toward Geralt with furrowed brows. "The girl is Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I'm with Geralt."

(Y/N) scoffed just thinking about it. 

Yennefer, he could tolerate. Geralt loved her, that much he knew well, and he knew how much it ate at the older witcher with her betrayal still aching like a wound refusing to heal. She'd groveled for days and weeks, practically begging for his forgiveness in different ways, begging him to speak at least one word that wasn't related to their next destination, but Geralt was a notoriously stubborn man.

He was strong, stronger than (Y/N), at least. He wasn't sure how long he'd last if he were on the receiving end of her pretty violet eyes and velvety words.

Yennefer was humorous, too, with her snark and sharp wit that often left him grinning from ear to ear and Geralt quietly scoffing as if nobody saw the brief smirk that always flashed over his rough features before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at her. She was a spitfire with a kind heart, effortlessly dancing between aloofness and warmth. He gave it another week before Geralt's resolve vanished.

With Geralt and Yennefer watching over Ciri as if she were a precious little jewel and not a princess who by all means should've died when her kingdom had been sacked and lit ablaze by Nilfgaard, it was up to (Y/N) to watch their backs for them. And Ciri, too, he supposed. He'd still happily watch her slip off her horse and faceplant into the dirt, though. Hell, it'd probably make his day brighter.

Death followed her like a plague, she'd said so herself. It was better to keep his distance than risk being one of the many casualties left in her wake. Besides, he'd never forget how close she'd managed to get to killing both him and Vesemir while possessed by Voleth Meir.. nor the lives taken that day.

The sound of laughter drew his attention away from the scenery before him, his eyes immediately locking on Ciri and Geralt as they shared laughter, smiles, and words forgotten in the breeze. They were supposed to be feeding Roach and Desert to ensure the horses were ready in case they had to make a last-minute escape. (Y/N) huffed. She was such a distraction.

It irked him just how much she looked like Geralt too, how easily she could pass as his, and he despised all of it: from her ashen-gray hair verging on nearly being a pale blonde, her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds when the light directly hit them, her pale skin that easily flushed red when she grew embarrassed or frustrated to the way she bristled like an enraged kitten and never allowed herself to back down from his comments.

His stomach twisted just staring at her scrawny figure. Witchers weren't supposed to meddle in human business nor their stupid politics. It was part of their code to remain neutral, to remain free from the clutches of politics, and to avoid falling into loyalties with ruling governments. Geralt rarely, if ever, broke their code willingly, and now he did it without thinking twice for a measly human.

She was going to get him killed. She was going to get all of them killed. And for what? A kingdom that no longer belonged to her family?

"You could've saved yourself a lot of trouble by not coming." Yennefer's voice rang clear behind him and she entered his peripheral, her raven locks clashing with the greenery around them and naturally demanding attention. Everything about her demanded attention; that was simply the way of a mage like her. Deadly beautiful and with a bite stronger than her bark. "I've seen you pout more times than I've heard you speak."

(Y/N) felt his skin warm. "You know better than anyone how obnoxious nobles are. They love prancing around enacting their power over others. They're ungrateful and-"

"Ciri is but a girl and you are but a boy. You have both lived vastly different lives and been raised by vastly different people." Her brows lifted in a manner that reminded him of Vesemir, and he felt a lesson inbound. She placed her hand over his shoulder and brushed her fingernails over his cheek delicately, tittering on affectionately. "Ciri is a princess, yes, but she's not ungrateful, and you know it. She believes you are cruel and a bully, but I know you're more sensitive than you let on. Perhaps you will find more in common if you give her a chance."

"Unlikely." 

"Don't be so sure." Yennefer squeezed him lightly, the hint of a smile on her face. "Come inside, supper is ready."

Despite the fact they were on the run, the past couple of weeks had been the best (Y/N) had ever eaten. He often settled for simple meals he could create from things he bought at the market or meat he caught cooked over a fire, but the food they ate now was made with much gentler care. Mixed with herbs and spices, he practically inhaled the rabbit stew, savoring it and listening to the idle chatter between Geralt and Ciri. 

He thought about Vesemir and how he was doing. If he was well after the chaos that'd erupted in Kaer Morhen, after losing half the men he helped raise from boys and parting ways with the child he took in as a babe. They'd parted ways plenty of times before; it was simply how the life of a witcher went. But this time felt different, and they'd both sensed it in the air, as if something big was on its way.

"Well," Yennefer exhaled, dabbing her lips with a napkin and rising from the table. "I believe we should check the perimeters, ensure nothing is amiss."

Geralt grunted. "(Y/N)-"

"I will go with you, Geralt." Yennefer interrupted swiftly and his golden eyes cut to her, narrowing with confusion and then squinting with suspicion. She stared at him, seemingly communicating whatever was going on in her head with her eyes alone and leaving (Y/N) and Ciri to try and decipher what was going on.

Geralt took in a deep breath and stood up, his hand curling around the sheath of his sword. "Fine." He nodded, his silver strands bouncing off his cheeks where he'd begun growing stubble. His eyes darted to (Y/N) and the intensity in them softened, the corner of his lip lifting. "Be good to Ciri, Pup."

(Y/N) recalled a time he watched a mother usher her child to another boy, quietly insisting that the two needed to get along before she plastered on a smile and claimed it'd been her son's idea to share his toys despite the clear reluctance on his face. He concluded Yennefer was the mother, him the son, and Ciri the other child completely oblivious to the plan in action. (Y/N) would rather choke than play along.

Ciri lingered near the window, peering out of it as if she'd be able to see anything through the pitch darkness enveloping the cottage. The moon remained hidden by the towering trees, and he doubted the two wouldn't be back before it reached the top of the sky. They'd never leave Ciri for that long, no matter how much they trusted him to take care of her.

"Do you think they're going to make up?" She asked, her fingers busying themselves with undoing her braid.

The tableware clattered when he propped his feet up. "I don't know."

Surely she could hear the irritation in his voice, his lack of interest in speaking with her. He liked pretending as if she were just another noble with a head full of air, but he'd seen the different ways her brain worked, how quickly she managed to adapt to her surroundings. 

She suckled her bottom lip into her mouth and dug her teeth into it. Was she nervous? He couldn't really tell, even if she almost constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve for the world to see. Her eyes always spoke before her mouth did.

"It's about time they do, don't you think?" She raked her hand through her hair and undid the small knots that'd formed before pushing her hair over her shoulder to rest along her back.

"I don't know." 

Ciri scowled. "Do you have anything else to say other than 'I don't know'?"

He smirked and her eyes narrowed. "I don't know."

She made a noise in the back of her throat akin to a low, irritated groan and finally peeled herself away from the window to collect the plates on the table, taking them to the sink where she gave the sleeves of her tunic a hard tug and began scrubbing the plates. If she scrubbed them any harder, they'd probably crack and break into pieces.

He chuckled under his breath at her annoyance and reached down to his hips, unclasping his holster and setting it over the table before freeing his dagger from its sheath and inspecting the blade. His fingers ran along the cool metal, eyes tracking the distorted reflection staring back at him. He swore his eyes glimmered a different color and felt his chest tighten. 

The loud sound of clattering brought his gaze upward at Ciri, catching her bracing herself against the counter while her wet hand rubbed against her pantleg hard enough to leave a streak of pink that slowly faded. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, voice nearing a frustrated hiss. "What have I done to you?" 

"Exist, for starters." (Y/N) muttered immediately, uncaringly, his attention returning to the dagger as he pressed his thumb into the chestnut brown hilt. "You strolled into Kaer Morhen, my home, and proceeded to paint the fucking floors with the blood of my brothers. You damn near painted it with my blood, too, and my father's."

The frustration on her face faded and her nostrils flared with a deep inhale. The guilt was heavy in her eyes, her fingers curling and uncurling to hide the way they trembled. "I-I didn't-" Her voice cracked and she looked away, her lips pressing tightly together. "I didn't want to. I-I didn't even realize what I was doing. You know that. She had me trapped in a dream. I would have never done that-"

"But you did.. and half the men who helped raise me are dead, Princess." (Y/N) tossed his dagger aside and dragged his feet off the table, planting themselves on the floor with thumps. His arms moved to rest over his thighs, fingers lacing together as his mind conjured up the most venomous thing he could think of.

Years of harassment from ungrateful humans taught him plenty of where to aim where it truly hurt.

"If one can still call you that. To be a princess you need lands, a castle, a royal family. All those things turned to ashes while you were busy running from your kingdom like a coward."

A spark ignited in the green of her eyes and she darted forward with quick steps, snatching the dagger from the table and squeezing the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white. She pointed the blade at him, her jaw clenching and eyes bright with threat yet her hand trembled ever so slightly.

"Fuck you." She spat, inching the blade closer until it almost poked at his forehead. "Didn't your mother turn to ashes? I know that's what happens to bru-"

Ciri barely had the chance to gasp before he grabbed her wrists and shot up from his chair, the force causing it to topple backward onto the floor with a hard thud. He backed her up into the nearest wall, slamming her wrists into it and forcing her to drop the dagger at their feet with a wince. She blinked at him, soft breaths escaping her parted lips that he felt against his skin. He could see the different shades of green in her eyes more clearly, see the way her eyes flickered around different parts of his face.

"You're a real piece of work, Cirilla." 

He released her wrists and leaned back, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes were drawn to the red around the skin of her wrists from his tightened hold and grimaced, a begrudged apology forming on his tongue because his job was to protect not hurt, but before he could get a single word out, Ciri lunged forward. 

His nerves flared immediately with alert, only for his instincts to protect himself to short circuit when- instead of being shoved or slapped or even punched for touching her so roughly- he felt soft clumsy lips placed over his.

One of Ciri's arms curled around his shoulders as her chest pressed against his, holding onto him as he staggered backward from surprise. His hands grabbed onto her hips, his mind torn between the tantalizing urge to kiss her back and the possibility of Geralt walking in and seeing the sight of the girl he considered his daughter kissing someone. 

He pressed his forehead against hers to break the kiss and sucked in a breath of air. "Ciri-"

"I don't care." She panted softly. "I've been thinking about this for weeks."

The revelation flicked something in him, something in his chest. The heated emotion that always spread through his body whenever he lied eyes on her, the constant need to poke at her until she diverted her attention to him with a scowl, the willingness to put himself between her and danger; he assumed it was complicated hate, his need to protect and his dislike for her constantly battling. Had it been something else? Something so foreign to him he'd mistaken it for loathing?

He watched the desperation swirl in her eyes before he squeezed his shut and pressed his lips against hers, swallowing the shaky exhale she released and darting his tongue past her parted lips. She shivered and wriggled in his grasp, her lack of experience surging in how intensely she reacted to him just grazing his hands over her thighs before he heaved her up fully into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist and the bottom of her boots pressed into the heels, pushing until they fell from her feet. 

Twisting around toward the table, he set her down on it and crept his up toward her sleeveless leather vest where he worked on untying the laces until it grew loose enough to discard onto the floor. Her white tunic sagged without the vest and he slipped his hand underneath it, palms roaming over the smooth skin of her abdomen and hips free of any scars unlike his. Her breath quickened when his hand moved higher, and her hold on his tightened when he delicately ran his fingers over her breast.

(Y/N) pulled away, leaving butterfly kisses over her cheek and down to the side of her throat. She drew him in closer and dipped her own hands underneath his tunic to feel along the muscle and scars he'd obtained throughout the years, whispering soft pleas for more into his ear, but his mind focused on the warmth of her skin.

If he listened hard enough he could hear the blood flowing through her veins, the rapid beat of her heart dancing in her chest. His tongue darted out to lick a long line along her skin and she tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. 

An alarm blared in his head; his witcher upbringing clashing with the animalistic instinct embedded in his genes in a turbulent fight. Vesemir's voice echoed in his head and urged him to stop, to put an end to the heated moment before it could become gruesome and deadly for them both. He was always so careful but Ciri was such a distraction. If only Vesemir could see him, speak to him.

Vesemir was roughly shoved out of his head in favor of hooking his fingers into the belt buckles of Ciri's worn pants and tugging down roughly enough to drag them to her thighs without unbuttoning them. Her hands were clumsy as she pushed on them, legs kicking wildly until they slumped down onto the floor to be forgotten with the rest of the mess they left in their wake.

He hugged her close to his body and lifted her into his arms again, letting his feet lead him to the room he typically shared with Geralt so the girls could sleep separately from them. 

She slipped from his arms and onto the bed, a laugh knocking out of her chest when she collided with the mattress. She curled her fingers around the hem of her tunic and tugged it downward as she pressed her thighs together, the flush on her face burning harder under his eyes and spreading when he took his own clothes off. 

His arms curled around her thighs and she gave a light squeak when he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as his knees met the floorboard and his hands pried open her legs. His face buried in the mound and a long curse dragged out of her throat in response, her hips threatening to buck and quiver as he began lapping at her like a starved dog, the bridge of his nose occasionally brushing against half-curled hairs the same color as the hair on her head.

He hardly knew what he was doing; he'd never had the same urges as his fellow brothers, his mind focused on the monsters over the brothels whenever he visited towns. But, he'd heard plenty of tales and recountings told over food by drunken men (some likely more fabricated than the rest) to have some idea of what he was supposed to be doing, even though he barely paid any mind to precision and focus. He licked and suckled until her quivering thighs caged around his head.

"(Y/N)!" Ciri abruptly cried out, her ankles digging into his back and pushing his face further against her as she flooded his mouth with her juices. 

"That was fast." He exhaled, the fleeting humanity managing to grasp onto the reins for a moment, and he wiped at his mouth and chin with his forearm. He dragged his arms from her thighs and traced the lingering imprints before carefully rising from the floor to hover over her and study her features. 

Her chest heaved with deep inhales and exhales, her parted lips red and nearly raw from their kissing. He thumbed at the trickle of drool threatening to slide down her cheek and felt her lean into his touch, her trembling hands slowly dragging over his arms and shoulders and tugging him down. She pressed her cheek against his, almost nuzzling into him, and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

There was a line in front of him, one he could cross and face multiple different consequences: they could risk the chance of Geralt's reaction, whether it was disapproving or angered, or risk the chance of a secret being exposed through an accidental pregnancy.

He was no true witcher. Unlike his brothers who lost their fertility upon becoming mutants, he had the chance of knocking someone up, a fact Vesemir consistently reminded him of. He was already a hybrid, a creature made up of the blood of human and monster. Could he inflict that on someone else?

But when she tightened her legs around him and purposefully grinded against him, he decided to cross the line regardless. 

Ciri's gummy walls resisted the intrusion, and he still had enough clarity to remind himself she was still considered a princess, one who still had the chance of marrying some prickly noble who'd expect his bride to be a virgin pure. "Ciri, are you-" 

"Yes." She whined with a tremble, sounding out of breath.

He pushed forward and nearly pressed his full weight down on her when the faint yet familiar scent of blood reached his nose. In most circumstances, it hardly ever phased him, but he usually never allowed the untamed monster side of him to rear its head for longer than a few seconds.

He pressed his face into the sheets and held on tighter to her, his mind escaping him and returning to the chilly mountain Kaer Morhen resided upon until the ringing in his ears ceased and he could move without Ciri wincing. 

Part of him desired nothing more than to give in to the creature he kept buried but this was Ciri and he knew better than risking potentially hurting her. He dragged out of her slowly enough for her to whine, only to plunge back in with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs.

The room quickly filled with the smell of sweat and sex and the subtle hint of blood that still urged him to fall into a state of delirium, choked words and moans filling his ears and keeping him grounded enough to keep his wits. 

Ciri's nails raked down his back feverishly, clawing at him as if she were trying to cut him open. The long marks healed seconds after they were made, something Ciri barely noticed in her hazy state of pleasure.

His lips pressed into her collarbone and they parted with the overwhelming urge to bite, but he had half a mind to tilt his head to the side and dig the sharp row of teeth that'd grown into his bicep instead. Blood immediately spilled into his mouth, not the blood he wanted but good enough to sedate the urges. 

Almost instantaneously, his hips stuttered and his body threatened to give out on him, his high crashing into him like a tidal wave. His hips continued to move, thrusting into Ciri until she cried out again, practically milking every last drop of his release with her squeezing around him like a vice. She panted into his ear, sounding as if she'd just ran miles upon miles, before her palms slapped against his shoulders and shoved him upward. 

"You're bleeding- did you bite yourself?" She blinked wildly at him, eyes darting back and forth between the blood coating his lips and the blood smeared across his bicep.

The row of punctures wounds had healed the moment he'd taken his teeth out of the muscle but the sight still looked like he'd taken a chunk out of himself. Droplets of blood ran down his forearm, dripping onto the bed and turning frizzy strands of her hair into a crimson color.

"It was either you-" He gulped down a breath of air and swiped his tongue over his lips. "-or me." 

Gently, Ciri ran her fingers over the blood on his face, her lips twisting into a frown. "I knew a bruxa once. She had a lover she fed on and- and they were fine for a while. Maybe if you-" 

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled them both, and they were hardly given enough time to process what that meant before Yennefer and Geralt appeared in the doorway, their panicked and concerned faces plunging through several differing emotions at the sight of them tangled up together. Geralt quickly turned his back on them and Yennefer released a long, somewhat amused sigh.

"This is not what I meant when I said you should give her a chance. Get dressed. We obviously need to have a chat."

[starmocha]

Neglecting my 373829927299 wips, my tasks, my errands, my fucked up sleep schedule, my life in general, because I am obsessed with this new wip I have:

More tribal warrior!Sylus, but make it childhood friends/arranged marriage/soulmates AU-flavored. This is my new ✨need✨, please enable me, I'd already written 4.6K words and that's only like 1/3 of the story I'd envisioned

(other things in the story to consider: light breeding kink, definite pregnancy kink, body worship.....just worshiping in general, because my other current obsession is Sylus being grossly in love with you and this fic is lowkey just him being "my wife ❤ I will worship the ground my wife walks on ❤ I will worship the air she breathes ❤ she can kick my ass idgaf because she does it so prettily ❤")

As you returned to the village, nightfall had already descended. You and Sylus had ridden back in silence, the awkward atmosphere only worsening with each passing minute. Sylus had kept an arm protectively around your waist the entire time while his other hand held the rein. You looked down, eyes following the horse’s hooves as he trotted back. “We’re almost back,” Sylus’ soft voice broke through the tensed atmosphere. You looked up, seeing the huts that lined the outskirt of the village and your mare quietly grazing in the distance. You wriggled a little, but that only made Sylus tightened his hold. You looked down at his arm around you and you said softly, “Let me down. I can walk back.” “No,” he answered. “Sylus—" He suddenly yanked the rein, forcing the horse to turn around in a different direction. “Sylus?!” you looked up panicked, not expecting this sudden change in pacing. Sylus’ sight remained ahead, and your heart sped up at the sight of seeing his handsome face from this angle, bathed only in moonlight. Sylus commanded his horse skillfully and you both rode atop the stallion at a brisk pace. The cool night breeze brushed against your cheeks, drying your earlier tears. You even found yourself starting to smile and laugh, the adrenaline taking over. Eventually, Sylus took you back to the village once he had seen that you had calmed down. The horses were returned to their stable. You turned just as Sylus handed you the saddlebag. You looked up surprised. “They mean nothing to me,” he said resolutely, “Burn them.” “I’m not going to…” He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “I’d never meant to make you upset or have you cried like that, nor did I mean to make you jealous…” “I wasn’t jea—” He leaned down and kissed your lips, silencing you. You dropped the saddlebag, the pouches spilling out on the ground. “Sy—” He lifted you into his arms and you looked up in surprise. “What are you—" He carried you out of the stable before letting you down again. You looked at him exasperatedly. “You always do what you want—this is not fair…” “What’s not fair?” “It’s not fair…how…I’m the only one…feeling insecure…” In the village square, you could hear the celebration dying down as people started making their way home. The bonfire in the center still blazed brightly. “You are right,” Sylus responded, “I don’t feel insecure.” Your shoulders slumped and you kept your eyes lowered. You suddenly felt Sylus’ finger under your chin, tilting it up so your eyes met his. “You were promised to me,” he said, hushed, “And I to you.” He kissed you. “We are meant to be, and were we not, I would rewrite the stars, to change the course of destiny and weave a new tapestry of fate to make you mine.” His forehead pressed to yours. “My love,” he held his gaze with yours, “There is only you…no one else.” He kissed you again, and the last remnants of your jealousy and hurt faded away. Just you.

[rowdydevs]

+18 Minor DNI

I Can't Stop - Rafe Cameron Blurb

A little blurb from my short story Please Please Please

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

✨spoilers✨

800 words

Smut warning 💕 <- swearing, kissing, fingering, pet names, unprotected sex

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

Can I ride you?"

"You wanna ride me, sweetheart?" He groans, wrapping his hands around the back of your neck, pulling you toward him.

"Here, princess? You sure?" He asks as his smile stretches along your lips.

"Mmm... Please," you mumble before sucking and biting his lip.

Rafe's mouth crashes into yours, kissing you as you rise a little higher, taking hold of his length.

You brush Rafe's cock through your soaked silk, swirling slowly around your entrance. Your mouth parts with his as you widen your thighs, feeling him start to stretch you out. You take all of him, whimpering as you sit flat on his lap, feeling like he's splitting you in two. "Fucking hell, y/n," he groans in pleasure.

Rafe's eyes fall shut, head falling back as you clench your walls around him, hugging him tight. "Pussy feels too good, sweetheart. Are you okay?"

Rafe's beautiful blue eyes lock on your. His focus sending shivers down your spine; your tears, slip down your cheeks.

Rate pulls back slightly as you drag back up, letting out a drawn-out moan as he sees his cock a mess with you. "Feels so good, baby," you mewl.

"You're doing so good for me. Taking me so well," he hums, gliding his thumbs along your cheeks, catching your tears.

"You'll never need anyone else, I swear princess. I gotchu."

He's got me.

You feel a surge of emotion coursing through you, more tears start to build, not just tears of pleasure, tears of overwhelming joy. A choked cry trips from your lips as you go to respond. "I don't want anyone else, baby."

Rafe grabs your hips, pulling you close, breathing rapidly against your lips. "What's goin' on, princess?"

"I'm really, really happy, Rafe... I'm sorry," you sniffle.

"Why are you sorry, baby?" He chuckles nervously, his voice breathless as he tries to get you to calm down.

You take a gasping breath, his beautiful loving eyes doing nothing but pulling out more emotion from you. "I'm so thankful for everything you've done for me. I can't believe what you did for me-"

"You're my girl, baby. You are all that matters to me. I keep you safe. You keep me grounded. I love you. You love me. Don't be sorry. This is the happiest day of my life." You smile blissfully, hearing his sweet words, throwing your head back to blink back tears. "We have to stop, princess."

Your stomach falls, eyes widening; cheeks blazing with embarrassment. You pull back quickly, matching his gaze.

"Wha-What? Why?" You stammer, feeling your heart shatter.

“Don't get upset, baby. Please," Rafe soothes as he tucks your hair back, looking at you with adoring eyes. "I just - I want to take you out tonight, share a bottle of wine, some dessert, bring you back to the penthouse, and make love to you on our bed. I don't want our first time havin' sex to be in a champagne room at your ex's strip club. You mean too much to me."

"You mean so much to me," you whimper, cleaning your tears with the back of your hand. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his lips.

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you, Rafe."

"I know you do, baby."

"Our bed?" You whisper through a soft smile.

"Our bed, princess." Rafe's hands drift down your body, resting on your hips again. He squeezes them a little tighter; tension building again. Rafe guides you to grind your hips, urging you to ride his fat cock before reluctantly rocking you to a lull.

"Are you sure you want to stop," you ask through a sniffled giggle.

"No," he answers flatly, making you laugh. "I can't believe I'm sayin' any of this shit. You broke me."

You chuckle and smile, cockwarming him as you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes fall lower, studying the shape of your body in his, catching the way the wetness of your pussy pools at the base of his throbbing dick, thinking about just how messy he could get you.

"Fuckk... Maybe just a little more," Rafe breathes as he holds your hips a little firmer. You let out a flighty laugh, unable to fight your happiness as you see just how insatiable he is for you, following his lead as he works you on his hard dick, hitting the perfect spot each stroke. You meet his thrusts, grinding to the beat of the song. Your wetness slicks his cock, dripping down his balls and making him shiver. "I - Fuckin' hell," he mutters. "Mmpfh. We have to stop," he chides, his movements still keeping time with yours, the man doing anything but stopping. "Bounce, baby."

His groans and praise fill your ear— cologne and sex fill your nose. You steady yourself on his muscular chest, nails digging in slightly as Rate watches your body move, eyes trained on you like you're the only thing he sees. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth, brows pinched together.

"St-Stop," he stutters, making you giggle devilishly again. He slaps your ass as playfully as punishment for exposing his weakness. You.

"Rafe!" You squeal with delight as he manhandles you to your back, your pretty pussy still stuffed full of his cock. He rolls his toned hips, skin striking skin as he fucks in and out.

"Fuck, princess," he moans loudly, "What are you doin' to me. Huh? Y'gotta stop makin' this so hard." His ruddy head brushes against your g-spot; body pressing and grinding against your puffy, sensitive clit. Your back arches off the leather seat, stopping Rafe in his tracks.

"Enough..." He grumbles, rolling his eyes, fighting off every primal urge to continue as he scolds himself. The muscles in his neck, arms, and chest flex above you as he physically fights himself back. "M'gonna-" he growls in frustration, letting his words trail off. "I'm going to have you screamin' all night princess. I'm gonna fuck you to sleep. Then I'm gonna eat you awake. I swear to god," he groans as he buries his body in yours, pouting pathetically.

Rafe pulls back and you grab his cheeks, kissing him deeply; expelling a breath as he pulls out. You gasp as he stuffs two fingers deep instead, curling them slightly. "Yes," you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut. Rafe ramps to your tempo again. Your little whimpers and cries become more frequent and breathless by the second. "Mmm... Rafe. J-Just like that," you beg.

He lowers himself to your neck, kissing you wetly as his big fingers rut in and out. "Mmm... Princess, you're that close. Huh? Almost came on my cock. Didn'tchu? You're so damn wet. So... Fuckin'... Soaked..." He grunts, punctuating each word with a push of his hand, letting his large palm clap against your clit, his digits bullying your g-spot again and again. "Gettin' so tight around me, princess? Are you gonna cum," he hums, his old money drawl thick as he thrust his body against you with each movement too. You open your eyes, pouting your lip, consumed fully with pleasure as blissful tears fall this time. "Cum for me-"

[macbethsymphony]

charlou my love! I'm about to invade your askbox with all my horny thoughts. Dont' you dare answer them all at the same time, I know you're busy <3

Ok so! As you know I'm rewatching Wano and you know that gif of Marco's mouth? (sent it to you I don't know how many times). Anyways it sent my mind spiraling into what if Marco was angry with you and it just made him snap? My pretty usually composed bird just losing it? I bet he'd fuck good hehe

love ya! -M✨

Millie bb!!!!! I was gonna keep this one really short but you made it spiral out into something almost complete!!!! How dare you?! (jk love you for it)

It's this gif, right? ngl it sends my mind spiraling into unholy territory too

You're infuriating

Marco x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re angry at Marco and he’s angry at you and you fuck. It’s that simple ;)

tw: MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough-ish angry sex, fingering, p in v sex

wc: 3.2k

It was a well-known fact that the first commander of the Whitebeard Pirates was nearly impossible to anger, notoriously difficult to rile up. Countless people had tried and failed to provoke him. But you? You didn’t even have to try, didn’t have to lift a single finger to bring him to the edge of madness.

"Do you even realize the risk you took back there, yoi?" Marco's voice thundered through the narrow corridor leading to the infirmary, every word laced with barely contained fury.

The stomps of your footsteps against the wooden floor echoed loudly, matching the volume of your voices and punctuating the escalating tension between you. Each of your step left a small imprint of blood, the pain in your leg raging but ignored as wrath blinded your senses.

"I had everything under control," you shot back, your own tone rising in defiance. "Until you—" Abruptly, you halted, turning around and jabbing your index finger into his chest with force. "Until YOU decided to fucking swoop in."

Marco's eyes blazed, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched visibly. "Under control? You call that under control?" he retorted, his voice dangerously low. "You were inches away from becoming sea king feed, and you think that's control?"

The infirmary doors loomed ahead, your destination within reach but forgotten, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "I sure as hell didn't need your heroics," you spat, words dripping with bitterness. "I had it perfectly laid out, and you ruined it."

“Ruined it?” Marco scoffed, his expression darkening. "Your plan nearly got you killed. Again." His statement hung heavy in the air, the weight of his frustration palpable. “When are you going to learn to fucking listen to me, yoi?”

Listen to him? That made you see red. "Listen to you, Marco?" You stepped closer, and he instinctively stepped back, his eyes widening at the pure rage in yours. "You are not MY commander. Ace is." You looked him up and down, a sneer twisting your lips. "I don’t have to listen to a single word you say, pretty bird." The usually playful nickname was now laced with venom as you spat it out.

He regained his footing, stepping forward as you stepped back, the anger in his gaze blazing harsher than you'd ever seen. He started to speak, but you turned on your heel, determined to make your point, your quick steps leading you toward the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Oi, get back here," he yelled after you. "I’m not done, yoi."

"Oh, fuck you, Marco." You shouted. "As I said, I don’t have to listen to you."

Marco's frustration boiled over. With a swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to face him. The sudden movement brought you chest to chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he growled, his voice low and threatening, his breath hot against your lips.

You laughed in his face, a rich, bitter sound. Fucking asshole. With your free hand, you unclasped the holster at your side, expertly cocking one of your guns and pointing it right at his face.

“Unhand me right now, pretty bird, or I swear I’ll fucking shoot.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. A manic smile broke on his lips. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, his voice a mix of challenge and something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you didn’t pull it. He took a step forward, then another, and another, until he had you flush against the wall. His free hand shot over your shoulder, and he leaned close, effectively trapping you in.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger and something you’d never admit to.

Fucking asshole.

The adrenaline still surged through your veins, the proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity in his eyes—it all combined to create a heady, intoxicating tension that made it hard to breathe.

“You think you can intimidate me, first commander?” you whispered, your voice full of insolence. You cocked your head back, looking down at him from your low vantage point. You slid the nozzle of your gun against his neck, across his chest, pointing it at his crotch. “It’s your last warning, pretty bird.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the air between you charged and electric. Then, with a sudden, desperate urgency, he crashed his lips against yours.

It was a violent collision of emotions, a raw, unfiltered exchange that left you breathless. Marco's lips were demanding, his grip on your wrist unyielding as he poured all his pent-up anger and passion into you. And you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own, all teeth and tongue, clashing and almost snarling into it.

For a moment, everything else drifted away—the battle, your argument, the constant push and pull between you. Your hand fell to your side, gun forgotten and all that remained was the heat of his body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips, and the desperate need to assert your own power in the midst of his.

But you were nothing if not defiant. With a sharp twist, you broke free of his grip, shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble. Your eyes were blazing as you leveled the gun at him once more, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Don't think for a second that you can just kiss me to shut me up," you snapped, your voice trembling with fury.

Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a wild, dangerous light in them, a reflection of your own intensity. "And don't think for a second that I won't do it again, yoi," he shot back, his voice low and rough, a deadly promise that shattered the careful balance between the two of you. Slowly he stepped towards you.

Fucking asshole.

You retreated, each step a painful reminder of the battle that had just ensued, leaving smears of blood on the wooden floor that turned into dark smudges on the sterile tiles of the infirmary. Marco's deliberate footsteps echoed behind you as he closed the door, the latch clicking ominously in the small, quiet space.

Locked in a silent standoff, your eyes defiantly held his, the air thick with a volatile mix of anger and desire that pulsed between you. You leaned heavily against the cool surface of a nearby medical cabinet, swallowing hard against the rising tide of pain. The throbbing ache in your wounded leg grew more insistent, a stark contrast to the adrenaline high still coursing through your veins.

Gun held steady, your aim unwavering over his heart, Marco advanced with a dangerous calmness that belied the tension in the room.

“Put the gun down, yoi,” Marco growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble that ignited a primal response deep within you. “I know you won’t shoot.”

Your narrowed gaze bore into his, finger twitching with a tantalizing urge to prove him wrong.

“Not a fucking chance, pretty bird,” you shot back, words edged with defiance. “Not until you fuck off.”

As the barrel of your gun hit his chest, you could see light blue flames grazing his skin.

You scoffed.

Fucking asshole.

He wasn’t taking any chances, huh?

“You won’t shoot, yoi,” he commanded this time. There was an unusual sharpness in his gaze, condescension thick in his tone as he emphasized each word. 

And you hated it.

"You don’t get to order me around." Your finger tensed against the trigger, and as his hand moved to the barrel to push your gun away, you squeezed it.

It all blurred together. Bullets streaked through the air, passing through the haze of blue flames, burying themselves in the wall behind. In a swift motion, he disarmed you, gun falling with a loud clang on the tile. His grip on your wrist was so tight you felt the bruises forming, his other hand tangled in your hair, wrenching you back, your own fingers shooting to his forearm to keep your balance. Your body arched against the cabinet, and he closed in, looming over you, his ragged breaths brushing against your brazen smile.

Fucking asshole.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the chaos of your mind as Marco pinned you against the medical cabinet with a ferocity that you didn’t know he possessed. You liked that look in his eyes. Unbridled fury suited him well.

“You fucking shot me, yoi,” he shouted in your face in bewilderment.

“I wish they’d been seastone bullets, you asshole,” you snarled.

He didn’t flinch at the harshness of your tone. Instead his lips curled into a predatory smile. As the shock subsided, amusement and lust swirled and mixed with the anger plaguing his features.

His tongue met your lower lip, then his teeth, taking all the time in the world, relishing the power he held over you in the moment.

His hand in your hair gripped harder, pulling you back further, nails dragging against your scalp. He wasn’t kind and the pain made you gasp, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. Your eyes fluttered close as his lips found yours and his tongue darted in, dominating yours.

The heat of his mouth melded with the anger still simmering beneath your skin, igniting a firestorm of desire that you fought to suppress. But resistance proved futile against the raw intensity of his touch, the taste of him searing into your senses.

Fuck.

Your legs felt weak and not because of the gaping wound on your thigh. The familiar dizziness of lust was starting to overtake the edges of your mind. A muffled groan escaped your throat, half defiance, half surrender as he deepened the kiss, devouring your response with a relentless hunger. His body pressed into yours, every line and angle hard against your own, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.

His hand left your wrist, and slid down your side, hairs rising in the trail of his touch. You struggled against the overwhelming pull of him, the magnetic force that drew you closer even as you fought to regain your composure. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, tracing upwards with a deliberate slowness that set your nerves alight.

As his touch grazed the curve of your breast, you let out a low, involuntary moan, the sound mingling with your ragged breaths. Your hands, no longer restrained, buried themselves in his open shirt, nails digging into fabric, pulling him somehow closer still.

He moved your head back, exposing your throat and his lips trailed along your skin. His hand roamed down to your hip, then to the front of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the buttons. He stopped at the lace of your underwear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, a plea whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. The grip on your hair loosened and you slacked against him slightly. "Tell me to stop, yoi, and I will."

“Oh, fuck you, Marco,” you mewled into him, words muffled as your lips found his again. 

With a growl of approval, he pressed himself closer, his hand slipping past the edge of your underwear. You bucked against his touch, a dangerous need driving you forward.

He took his time, tips of his fingers dragging up your slit, gathering your arousal. He teased and relished the desperation slowly etching on your features.

As you opened your mouth to complain, his fingers found their mark, and you let out a broken cry, the sensation sending shockwaves through you. Marco's touch was skilled, knowing exactly how to unravel you with each deliberate movement.

"Fuck, Marco," you gasped against his lips, your hips moving in time with his rhythm. You felt his fingers enter you, his palm delightfully dragging along your clit. 

Oh gods. You felt your legs start to shake, the sweet promise of rapture so near.

He drank in your whines and mewls, lips moving lazily against yours, his focus entirely on you, fingers working you closer and closer to the edge. His gaze seared in the image of pleasure twisting your features into his mind. So pretty under him. 

The world suddenly ceased to exist, the only reality the heat and intensity of his touch, the way he made you feel alive and on fire all at once. A sharp cry escaped you as you came, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

He quickly turned you around, the edge of the cabinet digging uncomfortably into your abdomen. You dimly heard the rattle of glass bottles and whatever instruments were locked in there, but it didn’t matter. He rolled his hips against yours and you could feel how hard he was against your rear. Suddenly you were ready to go at it again, craving to feel him inside you and you needed it now.

"Fuck me already," you demanded, impatience lacing your voice as you turned to face him. The sight that greeted you made you instantly regret it. His lazy grin of victory made your legs into jelly, and the satisfaction in his eyes ignited a desperate longing within you, making you want to moan his name.

Marco's grin widened, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so impatient, yoi,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

You glared at him, trying to maintain your defiance despite the tremor in your legs and the pool of arousal he’d just left in your underwear. "Just shut up and do it already," you snapped, words wavering slightly.

He hummed, considering.

His hand trailed up and down your back, dragging your shirt, fingers brushing over your skin with deliberate slowness. Every touch sent a growing need to your core, heightening your anticipation. You let out a frustrated growl, your body aching for more. "I swear, Marco, if you don't—"

“If I don’t what?” His hands played with the waistband of your pants, still stuck against the curve of your hips.  He let them pool at your feet and as he dragged down your lacy underwear, his lips traveled along your neck. “There’s nothing you can do to me little feather.”

You weren’t aware of when he’d undone his own trousers, but you could feel his tip against your folds, your slick coating his length. Your hand shot to the edge of the cabinet for balance, a shaky moan escaping your lips as he pressed against your clit, against your entrance. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see him, but he felt so big between your thighs and so frustratingly good.

You tried to back into him but he stopped you with a bruising hold on your hip. “Didn’t say ya could do that, did I?” he said as his hand tangled in your hair once again, pushing you forward, lifting your hips until you stood on tippy toes.

“I can do whatever I fuckin—” he started to enter you tortuously slowly. “Ah,” you gasped, he was stretching you so fucking much. “F-fuck.” Your thighs trembled and your knuckles went white as you gripped the edge of the cabinet with all your might. It was so fucking much.

“Ya can take it,” he grunted in your ear the strain of restraint evident in his voice. “Fuck that’s it. Be good for me, yoi.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he stopped, recentering himself.

You could barely hear the soft unsteady laugh that escaped his lips through your own pants. His hand trailed from your ass to the curve of your spine, firing an electric shock to your core and your cunt twitching around him.

“So fucking wet, and warm and tight.” You could feel the satisfaction in his voice. “Who knew you could be so obedient, yoi?” He punctuated his statement with a slap to your ass that sent you positively keening under him.

You felt some of your slick drip down your thigh and your cheeks heated. You ached to feel him move. “Just fuck me already, Marco,” you pleaded.

He leisurely slid out of you, teasingly unhurried and you felt the absence of him, the growing need to feel him fill you again. He let out a low chuckle as he sensed you spasm against his tip, your body telling all you stubbornly kept to yourself, begging for him in your stead.

“Look at you, yoi.” He palmed your ass roughly, making you wait. “You’re dripping to the floor.”

He slowly pushed back in, the friction against your walls making the world around you go blurry. You were grateful for his hold on you as his pace gradually picked up, entirely unable to trust your own legs. You shook beneath him, completely claimed, your moans sticking at the back of your throat, but he still frustratingly teetered right at the edge, never enough to allow your orgasm to build.

“Please, Marco,” you keened, your voice a high pitch cry you didn’t recognize. “More.”

He snapped his hips at your demand, turning his pace hard and brutal and it was suddenly too much. Every drag of his cock made you see stars, shattered your breath. You sobbed out his name in a desperate plea but instead he brought his fingers to your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene, only enhanced by the squelching noises and Marco’s forceful grunts. You were certain that something had broken in the cabinet, the sound of glass loud but it was evident neither of you cared as he somehow increased his pace.

Your body sought to curl upon itself but you were trapped and it was all too much. You were aware he was almost just as close as you, his erratic thrusts and the way he bit into your shoulder clear indicators.

The world seemed to fade around you and you were suddenly lost in the moment. Every sensation was amplified, the intensity of the waves of pleasure washing over you consuming you. As the tension built to a breaking point, you cried out his name, your body trembling with rapture.

Marco followed soon after, his own climax a fierce, shuddering release that left him breathless and spent. He held you close, his forehead resting against the damp skin of your neck, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Marco muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder before backing off. You whined as you felt him pull out, felt his seed along your thigh. Your legs gave out and he quickly pulled you into his arms before you could hit the floor.

“Real infuriating, yoi,” he repeated, bringing you to one of the infirmary beds.

You smiled as he sat you down and as he made to retreat, you dragged him to you by his shirt. "Right back at you, pretty bird," you replied as you kissed him softly.

It was tender this time around and he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing soothing circles.

“Let me clean that for you,” he murmured, eyes looking at the wound on your thigh. “Wouldn’t want it to get infected, yoi.”

Masterlist

[hexite-dissolving]

snowflakes in my stomach when we're kissin'

Gift for @weltraum-vaquero ! Jayce Talis x GN!Reader Summary: Does Jayce like the winter? No. But will that stop him from taking advantage of its holiday traditions to steal a few extra kisses? Absolutely not. Word Count: 1,042 Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Mistletoe, I'm feeling ✨festive✨, My First Arcane Fic, the title is from the xmas version of nonsense by sabrina carpenter but shhhh y'all don't see that, Jayce is a Sweetheart, Jayce Talis is a lover boy SFW

Jayce doesn’t like the winter, a fact you became aware of rather quickly when you first got to know him. After narrowly avoiding death as a child at winter’s hands, he can’t stand this time of year- not to mention all the sickness floating around and the textural nightmare of bundling up to go outside. You can’t blame him, you aren’t the fondest of it either, which is why you take so many extra measures to ensure he stays comfy cozy until spring returns with its warmth. Despite his hatred for the gloomy cold months, though, is how much he enjoys the season’s holidays and festivities. Jayce adores bringing you home to his mother, or joining you and your loved ones for dinner and exchanging gifts. 

Jayce has so much love for the people in his life it is hard to keep it in, so you suppose that the holidays are just a convenient excuse for him to shower you in affection- or ask for it. 

His favorite excuse by far was mistletoe. Any opportunity to kiss you was one he’d take, and during the holiday season there were just too many to pass up. Every outing took nearly twice as long because Jayce would pull you under every sprig you came across for a kiss. 

The scent of something herbal and fresh greeted you as you opened the door to  the sight of your beloved. It wasn’t uncommon to see him waiting for you to return home if he wasn’t caught up in the lab- in fact it was strange for him not to. But there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as you shucked off your coat that immediately made you suspicious. 

“What's with the look, hm?” you ask, toeing off your boots and scooting them next to his with your foot. 

Jayce grins in a way that only serves to strengthen your suspicion. He’s definitely up to something. “What look?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about, babe. Oh- you should look up, by the way.” He barely contains a boyish giggle as he directs you, one that makes your heart swell. 

Curious as to what it is he’s set up, you do, and see a cluster of mistletoe taped to the lightswitch dangling over your head. That must have been what you smelled when you walked in. When you pull it down to take a whiff, sure enough, it’s exactly that. You look back over to Jayce, who looks awfully proud of himself, as you set it down on the table next to your keys.

“C’mere, pretty boy,” you beckon, curling your finger in a come hither motion. 

He scurries forward like an excited puppy and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a dizzying kiss. Warm, soft, sweet like the rest of him, and just as desperate too, like he’ll never get to kiss you again. He melts into you when you tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. Every hum and sigh reignites the blaze in your chest, and it isn’t until your lungs begin to burn that you pull away. He smiles, winded, and leans in to pepper your face and neck in more of his affections. 

“Miss me much?” you joke, but you already know the answer. 

His voice is honey-sweet muffled against your neck. “Always.” 

When he finally breaks away, the two of you settle into your normal evening routines. You tell each other about your day, prepare for dinner, and you fondly listen as he recounts the progress he and Viktor made today with hextech. A while after dinner, your stomachs full and warm, you lay with Jayce’s head in your lap while you read, combing your fingers through his hair. He turns into your stomach and weaves his arms around you, and what you thought was just him getting comfortable turns into something else when you feel his hand rooting around behind you. You cock an eyebrow as his hand slips between the cushions supporting your back. 

He rolls over, gazing up at you and producing yet another cluster of leaves and red ribbon, dangling it between your eyes. The playful grin he’s sporting makes your heart stutter in its tracks. Good gods, he’s so precious it may actually kill you.   

“Really?” You can’t stop the snorting laughter that escapes your lips. You lean down and peck his lips, savoring how he chases after you when you pull back. “You’re pretty needy tonight, puppy. What’s next, am I gonna find some in your pants too?”

Jayce’s eyes widen as his cheeks dust red. Cute. He coughs into his free hand before he collects himself, and gives you a coy smile. The same one he always whips out when he wants something, but won’t outright ask you for it for one reason or another. “I mean, you can find out for yourself. You know, if you want to.”

You grant him another small smooch, drifting your hand down his chest and stomach, toying with the hem of his shirt. His breath hitches against your lips, and you retract from him like the cruel lover you are. “Later, baby.”

He whines, and you almost go back on your word right then and there.  

The exhaustion of the day you’d had finally slams into you as you cross the threshold of your shared bedroom at some late hour of night. You collapse into bed with a sigh, burrowing into the soft blankets like a cozy ferret. Jayce follows suit, nice and toasty when he snuggles up beside you. He calls your name softly, pulling you out of sleep’s slowly strengthening hold. He taps the headboard with a shit eating grin. You crane your head up to look behind you- lo and behold, one last mistletoe is tied around the wooden bedpost. You snicker softly and lean over him, your breath ghosting over his lips. 

“My god, you are insatiable, y'know that?” You nuzzle into the strong palm cupping your jaw, pressing your lips to the calloused skin. 

“You love it, though.”

You close the distance between you, the stressors of your day and the late December chill outside long forgotten.

[dontknowwhatyouheard]

Sweet ★

Pairing✨: Southern Natasha Romanoff x fem reader

Summary✨: You and Natasha have been known eachother for five years. It wasn't until recently that you've been having some not-so-innocent thoughts.

Warnings ✨: 18+ series

Texas heat was nothing new to Nat. You have been living in Texas for around five years now, and yet you still can’t seem to take the blazing heat. Natasha always said city folk ain’t tough for nothing. And as you lay on her couch in extra short, shorts and a crop top she bought you when you first moved out here, you’re starting to think she was right. 

“Nat, I think your AC is broken!” You shout down the hall. 

It takes a while for Nat to answer, so you get ready to get up and see where she is. As you turn to put your feet on the ground, you hear Natasha’s feet patting towards you. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” She states this calmly as she enters the foyer, focusing on the tools in her hands. 

You don’t bother looking up; you could never make eye contact with her when she calls you that; instead, you try and give your most convincing damsel in distress performance in hopes that she will take pity on you. “Natasha, it’s sooo hot, and I don’t think I'll survive this time. That’s why I need you to fix the AC, so you don’t have a criminal charge on your hands.” And just for good luck, flick some sweat off your brow for the extra dramatics. 

Nat laughs you off and walks to the kitchen for a drink of water. “I already told you I’m not turning the AC on. That's extra I don’t need to spend. Besides, it's only like 75 degrees right now; that's not bad.” She waits for your response, when she hears nothing, she continues. “And your mother would probably kill me before they even got the chance to charge me.”

“But there's nothing to do, Nat.” You whine out like a child. At this point, Natasha had found her way in front of you. You look up and see her with that cocky smirk of hers, and it almost makes you wanna look away. But the glass of water in her hand is too enticing. 

You quickly reach for the glass in her hand, not caring if it is for you or not. Before she can speak, you throw your head back, moaning in delight as the ice water slowly slides down your throat. 

Natasha stared in awe. She opened her mouth to speak but immediately shut it; suddenly, she was entrapped by your beauty. Her eyes traced a line from your lips to your throat. No matter how hard she tried to look away, her mind seemed to betray her. Without her permission, her breath followed the bob in your throat as you drank. At this point, Natasha wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. You have been teasing her like this for all of 5 years, even if you weren’t aware. 

-

When you and Natasha first met, it was when your car broke down during the last stretch of your 26-hour road trip from New York to Texas. It was the middle of the night, and she was taking a joy ride in her all-black Cadillac Escalade, and suddenly she saw you all alone at the side of the road, with your hood popped. She did not let you go any farther alone that night. And since then, you’ve been friends. 

-

Finishing off the water, you look back towards Natasha. And when you look into her eyes, it's like a switch goes off in her. Her eyes dilate as she watches you swallow. She retraces the same line she traced with her eyes going down. Slowly, they go from your throat to your lips to your eyes. When they reach their destination, it's like her mouth moves on autopilot.

“Let me take you on a date, sweetness.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @badbitchbecs @simpforlizzie @dorabledewdroop

[self-made-purgatories]

*Record Scratch* "Yep, that's me. Up to my tits in Star Trek. You might be wondering how I got here. Let's start at the very beginning.

Friend: You should try Star Trek TOS Me: Sure whatever I'll check it out

Me (watching The Man Trap):

"That's Captain Kirk? He's not at all what I expected."

Me (watching Charlie X):

"okay but why he kinda..."

"wow those red tights are really something I can see his whole—"

"Really? You NEED him, Kirk? Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Me (watching Where No Man Has Gone Before):

"What the fuck did they do to Spock"

"uhh (nervous laughter), would you look at that, nice homoerotic tension you've got here, you'd better cool it or people are gonna think you're a—"

Me (watching The Naked Time):

"put your glove back on white boy"

...And Then All Hell Breaks Loose

"wh... what is spock wearing? do i, um... do i want to fuck spock? (brain short circuits)"

<SIDEQUEST: TOPLESS SWASHBUCKLING GEORGE TAKEI.jpg>

(audible gasp)

Me: "ohh, same, buddy... wait... am i... Am I Spock?"

Spock: "When I feel friendship for you, I'm ashamed." Me: (INCOHERENT SCREAMING)

*gay love confession answered with a slap across the face* (another audible gasp) I wish I didn't know how that feels but I do (not that I ever got literally physically slapped by my crush but)

✨ queer angst ✨

wait a second. I AM SPOCK

Spock: *intense eyefuck*

Me: HOLY SHIT SPOCK WANTS TO FUCK KIRK AND I WANT TO FUCK SPOCK BUT ALSO I AM SPOCK AND I WANT TO FUCK KIRK WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

(falling action: why is that skinny old Southern guy hot. why the hell did he rip kirk's shirt when they can shoot the shot through fabric. what in blue blazes is going on here)

Later that evening:

watches the "I am in control of my emotions" scene and the "I'm ashamed" scene about 765 more times on YouTube

googles "is spock in love with kirk"

oh.

ohhhhh.

A few weeks later:

Sixty years of fanfiction? SIXTY YEARS OF FANFICTION.

"I've got so many Tumblr tabs open in my browser I really might have to actually join Tumblr for the very first time in the Year of Our Lord 2024 just so I have somewhere to put all this shit and process all these feelings"

spock's hands spock's voice spock's cheekbones

THE AUTISM OF IT ALL

WHY do I want to TAKE a BITE out of Captain Kirk

"Why, Mr. Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles." (MORE INCOHERENT SCREAMING)

Amok Time (lays facedown on the rug).

sweet Scotty in a kilt save me WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE IS MISSING A FINGER

"SURPRISE so it turns out THAT ⬇️ move is the Vulcan version of a passionate eat-me-alive fuck-me-now kiss"

A few months later:

"this simple feeling" (MORE INCOHERENT SCREAMING)

It's not that I don't understand the meaning of the word "microblogging," it's just that I love infodumping and I have THEORIES (mostly about late Season 3 Spirk)

"Mr. Spock Mr. Spock Mr. Spock Spock Spock"

"here is a link to the Fanlore page on Vulcan genitalia. if you still have questions after that come find me"

Three cheers for Touch His Tit Tuesday!

puts a first edition of Killing Time in a glass collector's box and hangs it on the wall

"Is this anything?"

Unification short film (uncontrollable sobbing)

goes to visit to a commemorative plaque where Leonard Nimoy once pissed on the wall behind a dumpster (yes, that is a thing)

"holy shit my post was just reblogged by Wil Wheaton via Diane Duane I think I just... won Trek Tumblr?"

And now, today:

3,000-POST TUMBLR MILESTONE!

BRAIN: NOTHING BUT STAR TREK ALL DAY EVERY DAY FROM NOW UNTIL FOREVER!!!!!!!!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part five! here we meet again. Thank you for everyone who is reading this mess! 🤍✨

warning: lots of past trauma, Illyrian camp kind of trauma, anxiety, kids because some of you said it was a warning, same old things.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Azriel's eyes were burning. It truly felt as if someone had dumped a bag of sand into his head and given it a little shake. But he didn't regret it. He wouldn't have done it any other way. As heartbreaking as the situation was, he didn't want to be anywhere doing anything else. That had frightened him when the late hours of the night first struck, and Azriel was the only one awake. It had clawed at his soul, urging him to flee like he was used to. Before it all got too real. All got too personal. Before Azriel started... to feel.

He was the one who had gone down to look for Zofie. You were barely standing on your own two feet. Swaying and cold as the snowflakes that Azriel had dreamed of the previous night. No, he told himself as he walked down the corridor; no one was dying here today. He wouldn't let it. He would bargain with fate if he had to. But would he? Yes, he was protective of his family. But he had known Cassian and Rhys for almost all of his life. Loving their mates came in the package. It was an honor to protect them. Loving Elain... Azriel realized that the thought of her, the thought of whatever had been happening or more of what Azriel hoped had been happening, hadn't crossed his mind as much lately. Was he forgetting Elain already? Was it never as serious as he had claimed?

Azriel found Zofie sitting on one of the stone steps in the communal. There were several females next to her, talking to her. But the girl sat firm as stone herself, arms folded over her chest, rosy cheeks damp with the tears she had wept. Only now did Azriel realize that he had never asked if the two kids were related. Siblings? Same family tree? Or were they just brought here and fallen in love with each other by destiny?

Her eyes found him almost immediately. Azriel could tell that she was fighting the urge to do what she always did when he was around—hide. But the flame that blazed within her kept her put. She was no bigger than Azriel's forearm, yet she stared him down as if she would find a way to escape him if she had to. Azriel folded his wings behind him, once again trying to appear smaller and once again realizing that there was not much he could do about it.

"You must eat, and sitting here won't change anything", one of the females stated, but Zofie had her gaze glued on Azriel. Urging him silently to sort this out. One stubborn girl, he thought to himself before he stepped closer, grabbing everyone's attention. "If you don't mind, I'll take it from here", he cringed slightly at how stern his voice sounded. Who in their right mind would leave a child with someone like him? He sure wouldn't do it himself. "You know him?", the female turned to Zofie. The girl contemplated her answer for a moment. "Axel's friend", she muttered. The room fell silent, and Azriel was about to fall into a long explanation when the female handed him a brown teddy bear, "She hasn't eaten lunch, and it's way past dinner time too. Find a way to feed her, please". Great, Azriel thought to himself, how he found himself in these situations over the past few weeks he was unsure of, but... The mortified eyes of them both sinking into the river flashed in front of Azriel. Those same eyes were looking at him now.

Azriel turned the teddy in his arms and asked, "Does he have a name?" if only his enemies saw him now. He would not be able to frighten a single soul. "Earless", the voice was so quiet that Azriel was grateful for his strong sense of hearing. "He only has one ear", the girl continued, pointing at the bear. "Quite straightforward", Azriel muttered, "Ear for short?", the girl nodded.

Azriel watched her for a moment before he crouched down to her level. "Okay, listen", he muttered under his breath, only to be met by Zofie's palm in front of him. "No, you listen", her voice was weary, and the way she shushed him had Azriel raising his brows. But it was when she spoke that his heart finally shattered that day, "Will you hurt Axel?"—the question that sounded so innocent on her lips, left such a bitter taste in Azriel's mouth. "No, of course, no. I don't want to hurt anyone", Azriel had opted to say but got interrupted by the girl once more, "And Y/N?". The spymaster's heart gave a louder thump at the sound of your name. As if urging itself into life. "Zofie, I ain't going to hurt anyone", Azriel's voice was strong yet gentle. "You promise?", her eyes had sparkled with hope. And, Mother, had Azriel forgotten just how powerful hope could be. He reached out his scared palm toward her, "On everything", Azriel muttered. Zofie held a firm gaze. To be this weary and strong-willed at such a young age. She was a baby. Everyone around her was meant to protect her. And yet here she was... But all of Azriel's thoughts died down as her tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

Now Azriel wondered if he hadn't overstepped with a promise like that. Was he once again trying to dig an easier path for himself? He had known what the girl wanted; it wasn't hard to guess. Someone who listened. Who heard her. Who was willing to fight for the little family she had found. Family that she was willing to protect. The weight of letting everyone down loomed over Azriel. Hanging there heavily. Pressing down on his chest. Drumming against his ribcage.

But all it took was the feeling of your hand moving over his chest. The weight of Axel's head on his lap. The feeling of a tiny frame pressed to his other side for it all to die down. Three slumbering frames. Grounding him without any clue. Breaking apart the stormy clouds. Something primal rumbled inside Azriel. Protesting against his fear. He had to keep these three heartbeats safe. He was willing to go the extra mile. He found himself thinking that if he was to find the people responsible... Find the camp. Oh, he would unleash his darkest demons upon them. Anyone who dared to inflict any harm

"Breathe", a delicate voice pulled at Azriel's consciousness. Guiding him. Guiding him back into his body. He blinked a couple of times. His gaze darted down to find your tired eyes looking up at him. "You're trembling", you muttered. Back in the day, Azriel would have taken a statement like that as an insult, but now he glanced at his hands. And he did find them shaky. But not for long. Not after you moved to lace your fingers with his.

"Did you have any nightmares?", Azriel had wanted to ask you how you'd known something like that. But then he remembered last night. Remembered the fear. Remembered... But it all drowned out at the thought of you. As if you rested his thoughts to bed. He shook his head. "Did you manage to sleep?", you asked, and Azriel jerked his head once more. "Azriel...", you breathed out, and oh, how much strength it took for him to not ask you to say it again. Because he had never cared much for his name. It didn't matter to him. People could call him however they pleased. But there was just something about the way you said it. The way it lingered. No bitterness. No...

"Hey, you're with me?", your soft palm guiding his face towards you. How many broken souls were in this room? How many hearts need healing? All of them, truthfully. And something about that realization made Azriel grow anxious. These kids, you—he could see you all healing the pieces that weren't even broken by you. Azriel took a shaky breath. His hand held onto your hip firmly. The shadows that sprung out of his control made him jump slightly. "Y/N", and Azriel knew that tiny voice, the weight from his side disappearing. "It's okay, grab a pillow for Axel's head, munchkin", you urge the girl softly, trying not to let the worry show. But the girl sat there, her eyes on Azriel. "It's just panic, Zo; we get those too, remember?", you reassure her, reaching for Azriel's hands and wrapping them around your middle.

You had a feeling he suffered from them. Had to. His head was too full of sorrow, worries, and guilt. And yet what he failed to see was that he was the only one holding his head under the water. "Come back", you whispered, trying to meet Azriel's eyes. Yet he was so deep in his mind. You could tell from the way his eyes had grown dull and ashy. So you did what you do best, pressing your palm to his chest, and your hand warmed. The glowing seeped through his skin. Sprouting. You reached for his face once more, slowly guiding his head onto his shoulder, catching it just in time as his body finally sagged. Pulling him under just like the very first time you two met.

"You can't leave them unpunished", you said through gritted teeth. Padme had asked for you to come to her office. And the conversation that had stretched out was making your blood boil, and your blood rarely boiled. "Y/N, they are kids", the high priestess said calmly. You huffed out a frustrated laugh, "Who needs to learn the weight of their actions." This whole conversation was making you see red. Yes, you were more protective of the two. Yes, you had made them your priority. But what you were asking wasn't something that couldn't be carried out.

"They are on the sanctuary duty list", Padme said almost in a dismissive manner. "P, you know...", you stepped closer to her table. You had seen her as a mother figure. Since the day you were brought here, she had been stern and rough around the edges, but she was fair. She was always fair. "Let's turn the question around", she said, lowering her pen, her eyes blazing at you, "Why are they still huddled around you like lost puppies? You know the rules". You bite the inside of your cheek. Fists clenched beside your sides.

If she saw it, she chose to ignore it, jabbing even harder, "You've been my most loyal worker, and you took a tumble with...", you shook your head. "Don't", you plead silently. Yet she doesn't seem to care about your wounds tonight, "The shadowsinger", "Don't do this,", you stated softly, your eyes already burning. You didn't need to lift your head to know that she had that tight smile on her face. "The days of all of this are counted; you do know that?" And you knew. You knew this wasn't for forever.

This place wasn't for forever. These people weren't. Azriel wasn't. You reached deeper into yourself, holding the broken pieces together and letting the wounds blend out. "I serve the sanctuary. My intentions haven't wavered", you said, letting your words seep through your gritted teeth. You feel the flicker of the flames within your body dying. You looked at the woman in front of you. Looked until the pain turned into nothing more than numbness.

"I'm going to start having issues with your hands. It's the second time", Azriel's voice found you in the hallway. You bit your lip as you turned to him before your face turned neutral. "How are you feeling? Are you able to breathe? Did you have another bad dream?", but Azriel quickly cupped your face, making the sound of your voice die down. "I'm fine; stop worrying", he muttered, his eyes locked on you. The tightness in your chest from that conversation with Padme eased. "If you can boss me around, so can I", You jabbed your fingers at his chest, moving away from him slightly.

"They are playing together. Axel was sitting up when I slipped outside", you gazed, darting back to him. How did he know that your mind just wandered back to the kids? How did he always seem to know? You nodded slowly. "We stretched our wings", Azriel muttered, your eyes pooled with worry and Azriel caught onto that quickly. "I was careful, and for the record, I have wings too. So...", Azriel said but you just shook your head. "It's good that you did. He just...", you let out a sigh, "Axel had never done that with anyone besides me".

Azriel couldn't help but frown, "He doesn't stretch his...", "His father was the one who broke the bones when Axel was trying to protect his siblings", the words just slipped past your lips. Azriel stiffened, his hands falling to his sides. "I found him all mangled up in the cellar when we were in one of the camps. His birth wasn't even marked in the books", Azriel had a feeling where this was heading. He had a feeling that twisted his guts. "Bastard didn't note it so he could do whatever he wanted", the spymaster finished, and from the sadness in your eyes, he knew that his words struck truth.

"Besides the pain, it causes Axel when he moves the wings", you continued, "He's just terrified... He said that every time he tried to fly back in the camp, his father...", "Don't even call that man Axel's father; he doesn't deserve that title. No male who puts their hands on a child...", Azriel snarled through gritted teeth. He turned away from you once he realized that his anger was boiling over the edge of his composure. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. An ache ran deep within your chest. You had a feeling that this pain of his ran deep for a reason.

You second-guessed your next move. The way his shoulders stiffened, you could guess that the male was in fight mode. Yet you stepped closer, carrying yourself between the arches of Azriel's wings and carefully wrapping your arms around his torso from the back. Azriel took a deep breath before his palms wrapped around your smaller ones.

"I want to teach him how to fly and how to heal these scares", his voice was barely audible—the quietest you've ever heard him. "You know he'll love it. You bring sides of him that he holds close to his chest", you breathed against his back. "He's a good kid", Azriel stated, "He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age". You can hear the ache in his words. Yet they don't surprise you. You could see it from the way Azriel looked at Axel. There were things only they understood. The pain that they both endured and that now linked them in ways no one else could comprehend. As if they were meant to find one another. As if Azriel was always destined to end up here.

"It looks better", your hand was softly inspecting the boning of Axel's wing. "It doesn't even hurt", he stated, his legs bouncing as he moved on the bed. "Can you spread them out?", you said gently. That's how the past couple of days have been. You only felt your anxiety subside when you saw Axel moving his wings. The anxiety that was way too deeply rooted within you. He tried to. You could tell, but the leather didn't even twitch. You bit the inside of your cheek.

Azriel pulled away from the wall he was leaning against, "Can you feel my fingers here", he asked, pressing the finger beneath the wing and leaning to the side to watch Axel's face. The boy nodded, and Azriel followed suit. "These are the main muscles in your back that support your wings", the spymaster explained, "Can you try to flex them?". And that's how it had been. That's how he had been. No matter what Axel did, he was always there. And no matter what Azriel said, it always made the inner flame in Axel burn brighter. It scared you. It scared you even more now because the conversation with Padem had been playing in your head without stopping. This is not forever. The time for this was counted. And you would get through it. You'll suck up the pain, but what about the kids? What about Axel? He looked at Azriel as if the male carried the whole world around in his palm. And Zofie? Who had been convicted that Earless had to go with Azriel if he was having panic attacks?

A fluster caught your eye, and a gasp slipped through your lips. Axel was holding onto Azriel's hand with both of his. The male had a firm grip on the boy's back, but the most important thing was that Axel was moving his wings. Slowly and not at all in a seamless manner, but he was moving them. "Good job", Azriel said, right as an excited shriek slipped from Axel. "Let them rest now, boy. Don't strain yourself", Azriel ruffled his hair. "Did you see it?", Axel's gaze was darting between you two, and you couldn't help but laugh. "I did, Ax", you leaned closer to him, kissing his cheek and making him squirm in your arms. You frowned slightly. "Are you suddenly too big for my love?", you asked him with a gasp. Axel whipped at his cheek, "Azriel is here. He's a soldier", the boy whispered, "Soldiers don't do that". You couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. Catching Azriel with a smirk on his face as he stood there, "I let you in on a secret", the spymaster said, and Axel nodded eagerly, "If a lady as beautiful and kind as Y/N were to smother a soldier, he wouldn't run", and he says it without breaking eye contact with you. All you could do was blink at him. Watch that smile of his blooming.

You were grateful for the cold wind that danced in your hair as you stood on the upper balcony. There was always something soothing about the wind. The way it sang as it flowed through the land. You knew that you should feel at ease. Everything was fine. Axel was napping, and Zofie agreed to go to her dance lessons. You had smoothed things over with Padme. But something felt off. Something was missing. Like an itch that you knew about but just couldn't seem to scratch. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Somewhere deep inside, you knew what was missing, but you didn't allow yourself to chase that thought. The fact that someone was able to shake your inner walls so easily and so quickly...

You felt his presence as if you had summoned him. As if he had a way of slipping through your mental shields. "You're going to catch a cold", you felt a cloak being draped around your shoulders, followed by a firm hold on your shoulders, and Azriel's wings warping you up, shielding you from the wind. "Be careful; the mother hen within you is showing", you teased him softly. It all felt so odd. The looks. The stolen touches. The way he was there. Always there as if he had indeed turned into your shadow.

You dared to glance up at him. Regretting that choice instantly because of the golden eyes that looked down at you.

"I got told off for tying the too-too wrong", Azriel stated, making you let out a laugh. You would trust Zofie to boss him around. "My tying technique is terrible, but she said I wasn't a lost cause", Azriel said as he shook his head. "One of them has to keep you humbled", you smirked at him. Azriel quickly pulled his wings up, making the wind crash into you. You shrieked before falling into fits of laughter, hair all over your face as you stared at the male in front of you.

Azriel was brisk to brush your hair out of your face as if it was second nature. As if he had been doing that for decades. As if he knew you for decades. Your eyes met, and for what felt like a thousand times, you let yourself get lost in him. Letting him look at you with the same crackling longing. The same way he had run his eyes over your body last night.

And you were convinced that you weren't thinking clearly. This wasn't you. Because you were not ready to admit this, but you muttered, "Kiss me...". You scanned as the muscles in his jaw tightened. The way his nostrils flared. You were convinced that you looked like a desperate girl because of the way you were nearly reaching on your tippy toes to meet his lips. Hand pressed against the toned muscles of his chest. But Azriel doesn't lean in. Doesn't come any closer. He just watches you. Thumb caressing the side of your cheek.

"Azriel", you muttered. Suddenly you become painfully aware of the fact that you must have read this all wrong. Must have moved too fast. He was here because of another woman. He was here because he loved someone he couldn't have, and here you were offering yourself as some easy piece of lamb. Azriel shook his head as if he had read your thoughts. Both of his palms reached up to hold your face, and your hands instantly reached to wrap around his wrists. "If I kiss you...", he breathed out after a long while. And from the sound of how raspy his words were, you knew it was taking a whole lot of effort for him to say anything now, "If I kiss you, I'll never be able to walk away", a breath hitched in your throat as you staggered to pull away. Feeling the splintering pain of your broken heart, cracking all over. But his hold doesn't ease; doesn't let you move away, as he states, "Rhys wants me back".

[blazingstarship]

🎫 Here’s a gush pass! Feel free to gush about whichever f/o you want, however much you want! 👑

Allow me to talk about Yus.ei

I cant believe my heart is been full of love for this guy for almost 5 years. 5 years in a row. It were ups and downs but somehow I still came back to him. The scene of him working on his d-wheel got my eyes and started imagine things. Till well another episode and I fell hard.

I have never pictured things with anyone else than with him. One of the things are our moonshine and wishing star. I strongly believe when he sees me and Yu.shiro, he sees himself with his mom. The only thing he got from his parents is a picture and the genes.

Dont say Im the only one who likes to imagine being the partner of one of the greatest duelists and seeing them giving their all to become their best and after a hard battle, their victory being so sweet to kiss them so passionately.

I wanna kiss Yus.ei so badly after that first one hard duel round. Oh babe babe babe.

Also I wanna hug him and kiss him and getting smooched multiple times around my face. Those butterfly kisses, finally all the love through kisses. Tho he isnt really into public affection. Sometimes kissing is very limited. But he sees how much I long for those kisses, so he tries his best to give me this.

Teasing, making puns and being sassy, thats very much our humor against each other. Love to have fun with him even he doesnt show much to others. But he sure has with me. His laugh and reactions its very attractive. Its a shame he should do it more.

And some times he makes me so frustrated like YUS WHERE ARE YOU!? I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNAHUG AND SNUGGLE AND CRY AND HAVE SUPPORT AND BE LIKE HELLO ITS ME I NEED MY MAN I WANNA KISSY KISSY

[writers-potion]

Aight I just remembered what I was gonna ask. I think It'll be my second ask because I do remember I submitted the same question I wanna ask months ago HAHA

Okay so, I'm writing a story that explores a lot of subjects, one of them is morality

So... How do you make a fictional religion feel "real" in a sense? Like I know there'll be shrines, temples, and stuff but I need to know more than just that.

Take your time and thank you! ✨

Writing Realistic Fictional Religion

Hi! Thank you for the question :)

Please refer to my posts about writing hateful gods and writing deities for stuff about writing gods! I'll talk more about writing religion in general here.

Religious Hierarchy

Think about how you'd want your religion to be structured:

Polytheism: the belief in many gods.

Monotheism: the belief in a single, all-powerful god.

Atheism: the belief in no gods. A belief in nothing is stil a belief.

Are there tiers of gods? (Gods above Gods)?

Is there a "Mother God" or "Father God" that must be worshipped over everything else?

How are religious leaders selected and trained?

What kind of actions (celibacy, vegetarianism) do the believers need to do in order to be a faithful person? Is there a consequence when they don't do this?

Religious Texts

The most important question a religious text should aim to answer is: where did the world (and therefore, us) come from?

Here are some story patterns you can use:

Creatio Ex Nihilo: God creates the world from nothing

Creation from Chaos: God introduced order into a chaotic world

Primal Couple: The first "couple" gives birth to the world

World Parent: A god sacrifices (a part) of their body to construct the world's elements.

Emergence: Before the current world, there existed another world. After a period of time is over, a new world emerges.

Earth-Diver: A deity sends over a person/animal, etc. to construct a world out of the barren land they've created.

This "Origin Story" will dicate the basic values that your religion thinks is the most important.

Religious Practices

You have the freedom to invent your own religious practices. When you are trying to invent one, consider:

The weather. Is the Sun in your world so blazing that all religious festivals are only held during the night?

What can you not do in the name of religion? Are you not allowed to have stuffed animals in your bed? Not eat blue stuff?

Who are the people that work the most during festivals/worship ceremonies? Are slaves exploited to prepare the feast? Are the women the only ones that works while the men sing? Are animals tortured or exploited in the process?

Sacrifices. What/when/how do you offer sacrifices?

You can also think about:

Who determines the kind of religious practices the other people have to follow?

Are the reliigous practice discriminatory and if yes, who do they benefit?

Religious Locations

Historically, religious lands have had the power to have its own rules and be protected. which will provide a good

One Location vs. Many: Is there a shrine in every home/street, or is everyone required to report to the city square every Saturday?

The Ruler's Castle: Sometimes, the king is considered to be the "son of god" and the palace is therefore the most sacred place.

One Unreachable Location: It can also be that in order to be ruly faithful, you need to visit a place that is so unreachable that people die trying.

A Moving Location: Does the god choose their new home every year?

A Constructable Location: If you draw a circle in bone ash, does the patch of land inside it become holy and no ghost can enter it? What if you lack faith and the circle construction doesn't work at a time you need it the most?

Question of Morality and Religion

While many religions preach equality and kindnes, it has been used to justify conflict and discriminate those who do not believe in it.

Does the deity promote such violence? Or is it the bad leaders?

Is the deity uncritical towards such behavior? Or do they actively step in?

Is the God falliable? Like the modern-day presidents, is the god's survival/power somehow dependent on the believers? Is that why they stay silent even when bad things are being done in their name?

Does the god favor rich people?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hi, I’m so glad that you’re back, I absolutely love your work!

Can I make a request where the HL students and MC are talking or doing something and suddenly MC kiss them on the cheek.

I hope I make myself understand, english isn’t my first language 🥺

In advance than so much and welcome back! ✨

A/N: not to worry, your english is fantastic! I know plenty of native speakers that don't write that well LOL!

HLC REACT TO MC KISSING THEIR CHEEK

MC: as an agent of chaos, they must kiss their best friends for no reason. They'll lull their friends into a false sense of security with pleasant conversation and then strike!

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: "See, I don't understand how they-!!" He flinches but MC still got him. He puts his hand over where they kissed him and smiles, confused. His cheeks tinge pink. "Wha- *ahem* what was that for?"

OMINIS GAUNT: He jerks his head away. He didn't have his wand active during the conversation so he was caught completely off guard. "What in blazes!? Did you...did you just kiss me??" It doesn't matter what their answer is, grumpily huffs at them while his face slowly goes pink.

ANNE SALLOW: "Oh my..." Her face flushes and she avoids eye contact. "How scandalous." She covers her mouth to hide her smile.

IMELDA REYES: "Woah!" She dodges MC. "What the hell are you doing!?" She wrestles with MC as they continue to attempt to kiss her cheek. They win eventually, but at a cost.

NATSAI ONAI: She catches them coming in and turns her head towards them to catch their lips with her own. She's the one to make MC blush. "Care to try that again?" She giggles.

GARRETH WEASLEY: "Thank you, but I asked if you'd pass me the leech juice." He doesn't skip a beat and continues their conversation as they brew. He kisses their cheek in return when they hand it to him.

LEANDER PREWETT: He blushes so hard he looks sunburnt. He's completely forgotten what they were talking about and stares wide eyed. "Did you mean to do that..? Why did- um...was that a one time thing or..?"

AMIT THAKKAR: *Amit.exe has stopped working* He's unresponsive.

EVERETT CLOPTON: His glasses are pushed askew when MC kisses him. He readjusts them with a shaky hand. "Wow, that was... unexpected." He has the goofiest grin on his face the rest of the day.

POPPY SWEETING: She lets out a surprised squeak and turns a brighter shade of red from embarrassment. She hides her face behind her hands and swats away at MC. "Stop laughing!"

[paranormaltheatrekid]

pulp dash simulator inspired by @annahanover

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DNI if you believe in the great astronomical discoveries

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Sir John Herschel is kinda 🤤

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Excuse me???

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day 1 blogging from space!

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It made me feel something I had not felt in years Maybe ever Perhaps in another life A whisper in a daydream A melody that lingers A face that you recognize On a person you've just met The journal you possess Has answers to the questions The world was scared to ask Are we alone? Just children wandering the firmament Throwing stones? Are we unique in this galaxy We call home? So many people have nothing to believe in Do we need something to believe in? Or simply faith that out there There is something to believe? Is that enough? I don’t know you, Samuel I don’t know, but I believe And belief is priceless

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What were we talking about again?

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Rpf

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wtf is happening to our crew?

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girl help my ex is contacting me again

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kill him

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I think a deactivated account has been reblogging my posts

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Want a drink?

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For the last time, it’s called Chazira, not the blazing world! Stop spreading misinformation!

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I FUCKING HATE AMERICANS

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[ladyveronikawrites]

WINTER STORM

30 Days of Bad Omens

PAIRING: Nicholas Ruffilo x Taylor (OFC)

KINK - Breeding Kink

SMUT PROMPT - "Relax angel" ; "Ruin me"

CW: breeding, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, family planning, unprotected P in V sex, use of pet names, FLUFF, ITS CUTE OK

SUMMARY: Taylor spends the holidays with Nicholas and his familly in the cabin in the mountains. The pair get snowed in before his family arrives. Oh what will they do with all their time?!

Word Count: 2k

Crossposted - Wattpad / AO3

unbeta'd ✨

Story for my beloved @itsmrsfuentes 💜

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Taylor looks out the large window and onto the balcony below. She shivers just thinking about how cold it must be outside in the Colorado mountains, snow-covered and shimmering against the morning sun. She sips her hot mocha savoring its chocolatey scent that warms her body. 

“There’s my princess.” Nicholas’ voice is thick with sleep. The old wooden floors creak against his bare feet. He slows his breath so as not to startle her as she peers out into the cold beyond. 

“It’s beautiful outside, just like you,” he mumbles against her hair as he wraps his arms around her waist. 

Taylor hums in agreement imagining the dark winter storm that blazed through the mountainside last night; it’s amazing how howling winds and heavy snowfall could produce something so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Looks like we are going to be snowed in for a while,” he whispers against the shell of her ear before trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. “What could we possibly do with our time?” he sighs against her, snaking his hands up her shirt. “ 

Taylor's breath hitches when his hands graze over her breasts pulling her against his chest. Nicholas’ calloused fingertips begin to draw lazy circles over and around her perk nipples making her moan and grind her ass against him. Her beautiful sounds go straight to his dick.

Nicholas slips one hand from under her shirt to grab the mug from her hands. At the same time, he sets down the mug and twirls his girl around to face him. The small excited yelp from her pretty mouth sets his core ablaze. Grinning, he stares down at her breathtaking bright green eyes, etching each freckle decorating her skin to memory, silently hoping their kids will look just as gorgeous as she does one day. He takes her hands in his and squeezes them gently. 

“This time of year has me feeling so sentimental… so thankful for you,” he starts, his throat tightening slightly with emotion. “We’ve been together for a few years now and I know my life has been crazy with touring and recording an album. But I want to settle down with you. You are my home Taylor and I want to have a family with you, whenever that may be.” Shy from his heartfelt confession, he tucks a loose strand behind his ear, waiting with bated breath for her response. 

“Can we start no-” Her request is answered with a heated kiss. Sighing softly, Taylor tilts her head slightly to deepen the kiss, licking at his lower lip. 

Nicholas chuckles. “Relax, angel we have all day.” He caresses her flush cheek as he gazes deeply into the eyes of the woman he loves.  

She grins back at him before hoisting herself up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Large hands slide down her side and grip at her waist. Taunting, she brushes her lips against his lips only to peck a kiss on the cheek. Giggling, she whispers in his ear, “I can tease too,” as she rakes her fingers through his scalp. Nicholas buries his head into the crook of her neck groaning as he decorates the delicate skin with little love bites. Taylor doesn’t let up as she tugs again. 

Nicholas nuzzles her neck “Baby,” he warns before pressing a heated kiss to her jaw. She quickly relents with a defeated huff, returning her hands to his shoulders. “That’s it!” he chuckles lifting Taylor over his shoulder. She starts to protest but finds herself being dropped onto the green velvet sofa with Nicholas straddling her.

“Nicky I-” her voice erupts into giggles as he tickles her sides- the spot he knows will be her undoing. He laughs right with her, watching as she screws her eyes shut tight and throws her head back as the laughter consumes her. “Pl-ease,” Taylor gasps for air between breaths and hiccups. Instantly, Nicholas stops and leans back to give her space. “Sorry babe, you are just so cute when you laugh,” he snickers.

“It’s ok,” she rasps, her breath steadying as she sits upright. She scrubs her face with her hands before tying her hair up into a messy bun. She flashes Nicholas a mischievous grin before pouncing on him to tickle him back. She yelps when he rolls them over and onto the floor, grateful for the layers of blankets and pillows from the movie night before. He pushes himself up onto his hands to alleviate some of his weight from her chest. 

His long hair tumbles over his shoulders as he stares down at her with a wicked grin, pupils blown wide like saucers. “Look what you started now.” He presses his hips against hers, his hard cock aching against his jeans. “Feel it, baby, that’s all because of you.” 

Taylor’s breath catches when he grinds against her, his large size apparent in his skin-tight jeans. His sea-glass eyes turn stormy as he stares down, and before she can say something witty- full lips crash into hers, wet and desperate, just like the mess between her thighs. A soft moan escapes from her throat when he pries her lips apart with his tongue. She can’t get enough of him; his taste of mint and tobacco. Tilting her head slightly she deepens the kiss as she snakes her hands through his tousled hair. When she reaches her destination, she tugs his roots while biting his lower lip- “Fuck, I need you,” her boyfriend moans, his breath hot against her cheek. “I need to put a baby in you,” he growls lowly into her ear, making her skin tingle and pussy throb.

Taylor hesitates for just a second, before coming to terms with the wild and nerve-wrecking thoughts in her head. Has she thought about them having a family together, yes- they have talked about it countless times. Gone through the ‘what ifs’ and even crunched the numbers to see if they could afford this new chapter in their lives. She took a deep breath to silence the worry and when she looked at the love of her life again in the eyes, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to spend her life with him. 

Empowered by confidence, Taylor shifted her hips to hook her leg over his. “Do it,” she says before positioning her weight to roll them over, getting on top. 

She adjusts to sit lower on his torso, feet planted firmly on either side while her hands remain flat on his chest. Quick as a cat, she silences his question with a finger to his lips. His raised eyebrow gave him away instantly. 

“Before you ask, yes I’m serious. I wouldn’t have said so if I hadn’t. Plus we’ve been talking about this for months now.” The hand on his lips moves to caress his cheeks. “We are happy and healthy what’s a better time than now?” A warm hand envelopes hers and he leans into the soft touch. A heat simmers in her belly as she leans down to plant a kiss on her lover’s lips. When he kisses her back, it's deep and passionate yet guarded– gentle. 

She lets her body takeover- tossing away her sweater along with any lingering insecurity and doubt. Nicholas works quickly to unfasten her bra, casting it alongside the clothes on the floor. Before Taylor can lean down to continue ravishing her boyfriend, two tattooed hands press against her chest- stopping her. 

“Get up.”

The quiet demand turns her core molten and Taylor is quick to obey. Before he asks, she sheds the other layers of clothing just as he does the same. Suddenly, a chill spider crawls up her spine so she turns to face the lit fireplace, finding solace in its heat. She glances over at the family Christmas tree adorned with lights and ornaments. Dreams of their first child’s Christmas morning flash through her head and her heart flutters. 

“Come here, princess,” his soft voice calls to her. When she turns, she finds Nicholas sitting surrounded by pillows, propped against the bottom of the sofa. “Here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

Her eyes scan his large erect cock and her throat tightens slightly. They have fucked and made love and everything else under the sun, but this moment feels different. This moment is different- it means so much more. There’s a weight to it, not a pressure but rather a comfort. She trusts Nicholas wholeheartedly and she knows he trusts her too.

Slowly, she makes her way to him- teasing as she juts her hips with every purposeful step. When she goes to straddle him, he stops her with a pat on the thigh. 

“Turn around, darling.” Taylor’s thoughts begin to swirl as she turns away from him and then-

“That’s right,” is all Nicholas gives her as she stares at herself in a full-length mirror draped with twinkling lights.

Slowly, she positions herself over him-watching Nicholas’ expression in the mirror with bated breath. He notices her hesitation as she hovers above him so he puts pillows around her legs for support and grips her hips to steady her. “That’s it, pretty girl, you are doing so good.” His praise makes her pussy wall flutter with anticipation as she sinks lower, keeping her gaze locked on him. He throws back his head and groans as her slick walls lure him in. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” At this point, his words come out breathless and whiny. She feels so full… of him, yet she still needs more. “So good,” he repeats between tender kisses to her shoulder blades. A soft giggle tumbles from her lips as he brushes his nose over her spine. When she opens her eyes, she finally sees the way he makes her feel; cheeks flush and bitten lips. Taylor catches Nicholas staring and she follows his path- straight to where they connect. 

“We fit perfectly together,” he purrs peering up at her in the mirror. “Ready for more?” All she can muster is a nod before planting her feet firmly on the ground. It’s slow at first, the way they move in tandem; her rocking her hips and him thrusting into her. Nicholas digs his nails into her hips, the sharp and quick pain urges her faster. 

“God, Nick I’m close -please,” she whimpers. He knows exactly what she needs as he snakes his hand to her front, separating her lower lips with his fingers before reaching the sensitive bud. With one quick swipe of his finger, her eyes shut tight and her head falls back onto his chest. 

And suddenly, it all stops. Taylor lets out a whine as the sensations start to dissipate. “Eyes on me, doll.” Her eyelids flutter open in response and quickly finds his primal gaze. “Good.” The only reassurance she gets before he continues his relentless pursuit of pleasure. The sound of skin slapping and ragged breathing fills her ears as the coil tightens in her core. Her legs start to tense as the pressure builds between her thighs. 

“That’s it, mama, ruin me-” 

“Oh shit,” she whines, baring down on him as she drenches him with her release. “Fill me, Nicholas,” she pleads as he releases rope after rope of his seed inside her. 

Sighing, she lets her tired body fall against his warm chest, legs falling limp to the side. As her eyelids flutter closed, she basks in Nicholas’ body heat that comforts her as her heartbeat steadies. “You look gorgeous in the afterglow, little mama,” he whispers the new nickname in her ear. It makes her tummy flip with delight. 

Nicholas wraps his arms around her tummy watching as it expands with every breath she takes. Taylor looks down at where his hands meet by her belly button and she smiles imagining a little baby bump. 

“Soon my hands won't be able to fit like this,” he says before kissing her cheek. 

“It can’t wait,” Taylor beams, resting her hands on his.