#'should i ask or should i let this person alone with their feelings'

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 4

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

"You want to tell me what exactly you apologised for?" Cassian demanded as they left Azriel's bedroom. 

Azriel was curled around his mate like a tortoise shell and Cassian was quite sure that Azriel was going to slaughter everybody that would even try to get close to Irena.

Without even a second of hesitation. 

He had never seen Azriel so protective before, had never seen him so...possessive. It was almost scary how strongly his brother was reacting to almost losing his mate, how tightly he was curling himself around her like a shield. Cassian knew that mating bonds were intense, that they could drive instincts wild…Fuck, he had felt that all compassing need to pretect and claim himself…but…

But Azriel…he was radiating raw fear and intensity. 

Rhys grimaced. "I fucked up," he said frankly.

"Yeah, I agree, given that our brother preferred to keep his mate a secret for 2 years than to actually talk to us.” Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "What exactly did you do that made him keep this from us?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with frustration.

He didn't want to judge his brother, didn't want to assume that Rhys was the reason for Azriel's secrecy. But he couldn't help but wonder what had caused Azriel to keep something so important from them. And he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he had been left out of something so significant in his brother's life.

It was frustrating and confusing, and it left Cassian feeling like there was a gulf between him and his brother that he didn't know how to bridge. He just wanted to understand, wanted to make sure that he hadn't done anything to make Azriel feel like he couldn't trust Cassian…

He knew that Azriel was a private person, that he valued his solitude and his privacy. But he had never expected him to keep his mating bond a secret for so long. 

It stung a little, that Azriel had been able to hide something so significant for so long without any of them suspecting a thing.

"Around two years ago...I warned Azriel off Elain," Rhys admitted with a grimace. "I was not...particularly...appropriate with my word choices."

Azriel and Elain?! Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Elain?! You warned Azriel off Elain?" he asked incrediously. "I didn't even know that there was..."

"There wasn't. Not after...They...they nearly kissed during Solstice once, even with Lucien in the house and it was...I stopped them." Rhys admitted. "It was a political clusterfuck."

Cassian felt another rush of disbelief and anger wash over him at that. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that Rhys had interfered in Azriel's personal life like that. "You had no right," he growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You had no right to get involved in his love life like that, Rhys."

"I had every right," Rhys snapped. "Elain has a mate and so has Azriel, as we just found out."

"He didn't know that then," Cassian disagreed. "Elain and Azriel clearly had...something between them and yet you interfered. What exactly did you say to him?"

"I ordered him not to pursue her," Rhys admitted. "I told him to leave her alone. That if he needed to fuck somebody, he should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it."Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw clenching tight as he struggled to keep his temper in check. 

"You...you ordered him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You actually ordered him to stay away from a girl he clearly had feelings for? And then you...you told him to..." He trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. He couldn't believe that Rhys had done something so callous and outright cruel to their brother. It was one thing to warn Azriel off of pursuing a girl who already had a mate. But to order him around like some kind of puppet and then insult him like that...it was beyond terrible. "Yeah. No fucking wonder, he didn't say a single word about Irena," Cassian growled under her breath. "You can probably consider yourself lucky that he didn't snap your neck for that, Rhys!"

Rhys winced at the words, his expression turning apologetic. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm...I don't really have an excuse. I was just...I thought I was doing what was best for him, for our Court. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, his voice shaking with emotion. Cassian could see how much his brother was struggling with this, how much the knowledge of what he had done was eating away at him. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rhys, even as he was still seething with anger towards him.

He knew that Rhys had always tried to do what he thought was right, that he had always tried to protect their Court and their family. But sometimes...sometimes he made mistakes. And those mistakes had consequences, consequences that were often painful and devastating.

"I did apologise," Rhys said weakly.

"Oh, did you?" Cassian said with a snort. Rhys's apology did little to improve Cassian's temper, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "And that makes it all better then?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A simple apology fixes everything? Clearly it doesn't! Otherwise we would have known! Azriel would have told us that he met his mate!"

"What apology?" A voice behind them demanded, and Cassian should probably not be surprised to not only find his own mate there, but also Mor and his High Lady.

"Feyre Darling...Where is Nyx?" Rhys asked

"With Cerridwen. Don't change the topic," Feyre demanded. "What in the cauldron even happened?!"

Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head at the interruption. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the distraction, though. "Rhys told Azriel not to pursue Elain romantically three years ago.," he explained, his voice tight. "Ordered him to stay away, even. Azriel's been keeping his mate a secret from us for two years now."

He could see the shock and confusion on Feyre's face as he spoke, the disbelief that her mate could have done something so thoughtless and hurtful. He couldn't blame her, really. He was still struggling to wrap his head around it himself.

It didn't make any sense to him, how Rhys could have done something like that without realizing how much it would hurt their brother. How could someone who was supposed to be a High Lord, supposed to be their leader, be so blind to the pain of those he was supposed to protect? It was baffling and frustrating and it made Cassian's blood boil.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not right now. Not when they had bigger problems to worry about...like the fact that Azriel had a mate, a mate he had been hiding for two whole years. He knew what a mating bond felt like, knew how all-consuming and intense it could be.

The last thing he had expected was for Mor to start laughing."What?" Cassian snapped, his temper flaring up again. "What's so funny?"

Mor’s laughter continued, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. "I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice choked with mirth as she grinned at him. "It's just...it's just so Azriel. Of course, he would keep his mate a secret for two whole years.”

Cassian stared at her in disbelief, his anger giving way to confusion. "That's what you find funny?" he asked incredulously. "That our brother kept his mate hidden for two bloody years?"

He couldn't understand why Mor would find that amusing, why she was laughing at something that was supposed to be a serious and painful secret. Didn't she know how much it must have hurt Azriel to keep his mate hidden for so long, to keep his feelings for her bottled up inside? Didn't she know how hard it must have been for him to keep up the facade of being fine, of being single and alone?

He couldn't wrap his head around it, couldn't make sense of Mor's humour in the situation. All he could feel was confusion and frustration, and a deep sadness for his brother who had to keep his mating bond a secret for so long.

He had always known that Azriel was a private person, that he didn't like to share his personal life with others. But he had never known that he could keep something like this a secret for so long. It was...it was almost scary, how good Azriel was at hiding his feelings and emotions.

“You find it funny, that Azriel didn’t trust any of us with her?” Nesta asked flatly.

Mor's laughter died down at Nesta's words, her expression turning somber. "No, of course not," she said quietly. "It's just...it's just typical Azriel. He's always been so careful about guarding his emotions, about keeping his love life hidden. I never would have guessed that he had a mate, let alone for two whole years."

“I am not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Nesta bit out. “Not as you spend 500 years using his own feelings against him.

Mor flinched at Nesta's words, her expression turning pained. "Nesta, that's...that's not fair," she protested. "I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to."

But Nesta wasn't finished, her eyes blazing with anger as she took a step towards Mor. "You spent five centuries playing with his heart, using him like some kind of toy. And now you're surprised that he didn't tell you about his mate? After everything you've put him through?"

Mor looked down, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "I...I know that I made mistakes," she said quietly. "But I never meant to hurt him."

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she sneered. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly how Azriel felt about you, and you used it to your advantage. You used him. And after the mating bond between you and Emerie snapped, you never tried to actually talk to him!“

Cassian nearly missed Rhys wincing. Nearly.

“You have anything to do with that too?” He asked darkly.

Rhys flinched at the accusation, his expression turning guilty. "I...I may have had something to do with it," he admitted quietly. "But I was just trying to help. I didn't mean..."

Cassian stared at his brother in disbelief, his anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "You...you interfered? Again?" he hissed. “What did you tell Azriel?” He demanded.

Rhys sighed, picking a piece of invisible lint of his jacket. "I told him not to ruin this for Mor. That she went through enough.”

Cassian felt a wave of frustration wash over him at Rhys's words. "And you didn't think that maybe Azriel had enough as well?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

He couldn't believe that Rhys had tried to interfere in Azriel's life again, that he had caused even more pain for their brother. And all for the sake of Mor, someone who had rejected Azriel time and time again. It was ridiculous and infuriating. 

But the more he heard…the more he understood why Azriel had kept Irena a secret. 

He had met his mate and had protected her fiercely, cossetted her away from any of them who could hurt them…had kept her to himself, so Rhys couldn’t say any other idiotic and harebrained thing…Had kept his mate to himself, because he adored her and hadn’t wanted to share. Which quite frankly, Cassian could absoltuely understand now. 

And still… Cassian knew what a mating bond could do to someone, how intense and consuming it could be. And the thought that Azriel, their quiet and reserved brother, had had to keep that kind of intensity hidden for so long...it was almost too much for Cassian to fathom.

He didn't know how Azriel had managed it, how he had kept his mating bond a secret for so long without anyone else noticing. It must have been a monumental effort, a constant struggle to keep his emotions and instincts in check.

And the fact that he had done all of that alone, without any support or understanding from the rest of them...it broke Cassian's heart. 

And Cassian himself had not made it better. How often had he teased his brother about his love life. Even, and maybe especially,  when Azriel had told him to fuck off?

Too often, Cassian realized with a pang of guilt. He had never thought about how his teasing might have hurt Azriel, how it might have added to the burden of keeping his mating bond a secret.

He had always just assumed that they were all teasing each other in good fun, that it was harmless banter between siblings. But now...now he realized that maybe it hadn't been so harmless after all. Maybe it had been something much more cruel and damaging than he had ever intended.

He wished that he could take back every comment he had ever made about Azriel's love life, every joke he had ever made about his solitude. But he knew that he couldn't, that the damage had already been done.

Cassian could just hope that he could find a way to repair things with Azriel, to make amends for all of the hurt and pain that he had unintentionally caused. He just hoped that his brother would be able to forgive him, that they could move past this and build a stronger, more understanding relationship

But deep down, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it might not be so easy. That the wounds inflicted by his words might run too deep to ever be fully healed.

And that thought scared him more than he cared to admit. It scared him to think that he might have forever damaged his relationship with his brother, that his careless words might have destroyed something that he had always taken for granted.

“I don’t even have the words right now,” Feyre said with a sigh.

Cassian glanced in her direction, seeing the pain and frustration written all over her face. He knew exactly what she meant. There were no words for this situation, for the hurt and confusion and betrayal that they were all feeling.

He could only imagine what Azriel must be going through right now, how much he must be struggling with his emotions and thoughts. And he had no idea how they were supposed to help him, how they could make things right again.

“I have no clue how we are supposed to fix this either,” Feyre continued.

Cassian nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."

“Leave him be,” Nesta said tightly. “He nearly lost his mate today.”

Cassian shot Nesta a sharp look, surprised by her words. "Leave him be?" he repeated. "You want to just leave him alone, after all of this?"

"He almost lost his mate today, Cassian," Nesta repeated, her voice tight with emotion. "Let him rest. Let him have some time, space. Let him have that without us bombarding him with questions and apologies."

Cassian considered her words for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of bombarding his brother with more questions right now. He already had, hadn’t he?  He knew that Nesta was right, that Azriel needed space and time to process everything that had happened. And he knew that they had already done enough damage as it was.

So he nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her suggestion. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll give him space. For now."

He could only hope that it would be enough, that it would give Azriel the time and space he needed to heal and process everything that had happened. And he hoped, more than anything, that it would be enough for them to repair the damage that they had done to their brother's heart.

But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait and hope that someday, somehow, they could make things right again.

And in the meantime, he would try his best to be there for Azriel, to offer him support and understanding without pushing too hard. Because that was all he could do right now.

That, and wait for a chance to finally make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Because he knew that he had a lot to make up for, and he was determined to do whatever it took to earn Azriel's forgiveness. And to be a better brother from this point forward.

***

She was warm. She was safe. Azriel was holding her...and still...in the moment she first opened her eyes, all she could remember where these last few moments before.

Irena's heart raced as the memories flooded back, of Merrill's office...of how her fellow Priestess, her friend had been sniping at her the moment she entered her office.

"We need to talk, Merrill," Irena had said.

"If Meera complained, it's her own fault," Merrill had seethed. "I don't need her help anyway, I am quicker and better on my own."

And only then Irena had realised that Merrill had already been casting that spell.

"Merrill! Stop!" she had snapped. "You can't do that! It's too..." dangerous. Dangerous was what she had wanted to say. But the word stuck in her throat as Merrill chanted that spell and then...then hell broke loose.

Then the only thing she remembered was quite a lot of pain."

There was no pain now.

There was only Azriel. Only safety and warmth and the smell of cedars...she blinked open her eyes tiredly.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weak and boneless. But still, she felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him there, his arms strong and comforting around her.

She wanted to say more, to ask him if he was alright, to apologize for putting him through all of this. But she couldn't find the strength to speak, the words getting stuck in her throat. All she could do was cling to him, grateful for his presence and warmth.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, clinging to her...and only a moment later she could feel his body shudder against her own. Shudder and the salty smell of tears

Irena's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was crying. She had never seen Azriel cry before, not once in all the time they had spent together. But now, he was crying, a quiet sob escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

Her heart broke at the sound, at the vulnerability he was showing her. She raised a trembling hand to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. "Azriel," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm here."

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him like this. But the words just wouldn't come, her mouth dry and her head still spinning. All she could do was hold him, trying to provide him with the only comfort she had the strength to give.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other in silence. But eventually, Azriel's tears seemed to dry up, his sobs turning into sniffles and then to deep, shaky breaths.

She felt him press another soft kiss against her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken murmur. "I thought..."

She could hear the pain and fear in his voice, and it broke her heart even more. "Shhh," she said, still stroking his hair gently. "I'm here now. I'm alright."

She could feel him nod against her, his body slowly relaxing as he held her close. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I was so scared."

She tightened her grip around him, trying to reassure him with her presence. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Never. Not when she had a single choice in that matter. 

She felt him nod again, his body finally relaxing completely against hers. 

But for now, this was enough. Just being able to hold him, to feel him pressed against her, was enough. And she hoped, with all her heart, that it was enough for him too.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. “Are you…”

She looked up at Azriel, seeing the concern etched onto his features. "My abdomen hurts a little…so does my bad leg" she admitted. "But other than that, I feel fine. A little weak, but fine."

Azriel nodded, his expression still tight with worry. "Madja said that it might take a few days for you to fully recover," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she was confident that you'll be okay."

Irena nodded, trying to smile reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Azriel," she said softly. "I just need some rest and I'll be good as new."

And time. Time to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had died.

“She didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Azriel knew what she was talking about.

“She didn’t,” he agreed softly.

“Was anybody else hurt?” Irena whispered, already hating to even contemplate it..

“Just you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "It's all my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't confronted her, if I hadn't..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She could still remember the look on Merrill's face, the anger and hatred in her eyes. And she knew, deep down, that she had caused it. 

Azriel's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "It wasn't your fault, Irena," he said firmly. "You didn't make her do what she did. You couldn't have known that she would lash out like that."

She wanted to believe him, to let herself off the hook. But the guilt was too heavy, too all-consuming. "I should have known," she whispered, her voice choked up with emotion. "I should have been more aware, more careful."

Azriel's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding. "You can't blame yourself for this, love," he said gently. "You can't control other people's actions, no matter how much you might want to."

She knew he was right, that she couldn't keep blaming herself for what had happened. But it was hard, so hard, to let go of that guilt. "I just...I never meant for any of this to happen," she said, tears filling her eyes.

Merrill had been brilliant. And yes, she had been snappy and cruel but she had also been funny and bright and…She hadn’t been horrible. Misunderstood maybe, not very nice sometimes but she wasn’t…she hadn’t deserved to die. 

Azriel reached out, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "I know you didn't."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of blame or anger. But all she saw was kindness and understanding, and it almost broke her heart. "How can you be so good to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything..."

He cupped her face gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Because I love you," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "And nothing you can ever do will ever change that. This wasn’t your fault."

She felt a lump form in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever loved her like this before, no one had ever made her feel so safe and cherished. 

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she felt him press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "More than anything."

Laying in his arms, was the most peace she had ever known. 

“They know…about us,” Azriel said, exhaling softly. “I am sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them take you back to your room.”

Irena looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "They know?" she repeated. "They know about us...together?"

He didn’t need to tell her who they was. They was everybody. 

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew you didn't want anyone to know yet, but I couldn't risk them sending you back alone. You were barely conscious and..." He trailed off, his voice tight with emotion.

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she said softly. "I understand." And she did understand. She knew that he had only been trying to protect her, to keep her safe. And she loved him even more for it. And she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted to be held by him. It was worth it. The simple comfort of his presence was worth all the other bullshit they would need to deal with. 

Irena smiled up at him, trying to reassure him with her expression. "It doesn't matter if they know," she said. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."

“It’s gonna be…difficult,” Azriel warned her with a grimace.

“I can deal with your brothers,” she promised him simply. She could. She did deal with them. Well, at least with the High Lord on a monthly basis. She could handle him. 

Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned her, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

She just smiled at him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

She would deal with whatever she needed. Because Azriel was worth it. 

“Madja should be back soon…do you want a bath?” He asked her softly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I can ask Gwyn or Roslin to come help you.“

Irena smiled gratefully. "Yes, a bath would be lovely," she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "But just a quick one."

Azriel nodded, his expression tender as he looked down at her. "I'll go get Gwyn," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You just rest for a moment."

“No,” Irena said softly. “You can help me.”

Azriel's expression softened at her words, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything you need." He bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom. His touch was careful, his steps slow and steady, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

The shadows fluttered around, filling the bathtub, pouring something or other in there until it smelled amazing.

Irena breathed in deeply, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease away. The warm, lavender-scented steam filled her nose, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her racing heart. "That smells amazing," she sighed, leaning against Azriel's chest. "What is it?"

“I have no clue,” he said drily. “I don’t get bubble baths,” he said with a pointed look at the shadows. 

He put her down to sit on the edge of the enormous Bath Tub and then very carefully unwrapped the wrappings around her wounds, and her leg. The wounds were closed now, the upper layer knitted back together, but she could still feel them. 

“Can you get out of the nightgown on your own?” Azriel asked her, hesitantly. 

“Should be fine,” Irena promised. 

She watched as he turned around, giving her some privacy. She was grateful for his consideration, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that he wasn't even going to sneak a peek. She shook the thought away, reaching out to tug off the nightgown and carefully lower herself into the tub.

The water was warm and soothing, and she let out a soft sigh as her body sank into it. Irena closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles. "This feels amazing," she murmured, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You can come here,“ she said with some amusement, as he still stood at the doorway, presenting his back to her. His wings were flared as wide as they could get in the bathroom, rippling as muscles seemingly twitched beneath them. 

Azriel turned back around, his expression a mix of amusement and relief. He stepped closer to the tub, kneeling down beside it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "I don't want to accidentally see something you don't want me to."

Irena laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "You're too chivalrous for your own good," she teased. "But I appreciate the thought. And yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her. He gently ran his fingers through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Irena leaned into it with a contented sigh. "That feels good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered her, his voice hesitant. 

Like she was ever going to turn down that offer.  Irena opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, please," she said, leaning back further into the water. "I don't think I have the energy to lift my arms right now."

Azriel chuckled softly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He squirted a small amount into his palm before carefully working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles. The sensation was heavenly, and Irena closed her eyes again, simply enjoying the moment.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Azriel gently working the shampoo into her hair while Irena let herself relax completely. The warm water, the fragrant steam, and Azriel's gentle touch were all working together to ease away her aches and pains.

After a few more minutes, Azriel carefully rinsed her hair, his fingers tenderly brushing away any lingering soap suds. "All done," he said softly, his hands still buried in her hair. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again and giving him a smile. "Much better," she said, feeling relaxed and drowsy. "Thank you."

Azriel returned the smile, his gaze full of affection. "You're very welcome, love" he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's get you out of here and back into bed before you fall asleep in the tub."

Irena laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "That's probably a good idea," she admitted. "I don't think falling asleep in the tub would do my injuries any favours."

He insisted on keeping his eyes closed again, but between him and the shadows, they had her dry and dressed in a nightgown quickly enough.

Azriel scooped her up again as soon as she was dressed, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her gently onto the mattress, tucking the blankets around her before sitting down beside her.

“You know…next time…you should let me return the favour,” she said softly.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

“You could join me in the tub,” she said softly, biting her lip.

Azriel's eyes darkened at her suggestion, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I’ll have…some…bodily reaction to that,” he pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a hold of his hand.

Irena swallowed, feeling a flutter of both nerves and excitement in her belly. But she didn't back down. "I'm sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want...I want to be close to you. Like that." She could see his hesitation and the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes.

But she knew that hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire. It was simply that he was worried about her. Worried about hurting her, or pushing her too far. And she loved him all the more for it, but she also knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Think about it. She said softly. “Maybe in a few weeeks?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "In a few weeks," he agreed softly. "When you're healed." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's focus on getting you better first, hmm?"

[euthymiya]

Sukuna who never was close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[rootedinrevisions]

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished. 

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. 

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine. 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself. 

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race. 

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

[hadersversion]

‘tis the damn season.

“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue! reader

warnings: 18+, SMUT, p in v, fingering, begging, overstimulation, use of babe....let me know if i forget anything lol. ALSO in some places in america, thansgiving eve is literally just a holiday to get drunk in your hometown

your home for the holidays for the first time in years. you've been avoiding rafe, the reason you've been away for so long, but after seeing him again all the old feelings come back. when rafe sends a text one night, you end up in the back of his truck like old times.

i parked my car out front of my childhood home, staring at the old exterior.

somethings never change.

being back in the outer banks felt strange. it has been a while since i have been back, avoiding come home for as long as i can. but with a few begging phone calls from my mom and kiara, here i am.

i knock on my front door and am greeted with a bright smile.

"jj?" i ask, confused.

"welcome home, stranger." he says, with a hug and grabbing my bag.

i walk into my living room and see the pogues, sitting with my mom. a homemade 'welcome home' banner hanging above their heads.

my mom comes over and gives me a big hug. "i thought i would never see this face again." she says with a squeeze.

"boston isn't that far, mom." i tell her but i know she would never leave the outer banks. never in a million years. i turn towards the others and smile. "i wonder who could've put this together?" i say, looking at kiara.

"hey it wasn't all me, pope was the one who brought it up." she says, engulfing me in her arms.

"guilty." pope chimes in, joining the hug. i feel jj and john b join in as well. my family.

we break away and hang out in the living room, catching up.

"don't tell me you went all city on us, y/n." john b pokes fun at me.

"not completely. but it is nice having more things to do than hang on the beach and smoke." i wink.

"who could want more than that?" jj asks, making us all laugh.

"speaking of," kiara starts. "there's a little thanksgiving eve celebration happening at the wreck. just some people from high school. nothing big."

"just a chance to get drunk of our asses and go to dinner the next day hungover." jj says, causing kiara to nudge him.

"what do you say? want to join us?" i look around the room at my friends, all eager waiting for my response. with a sigh, i nod and they all cheer. "thank god, i don't think i could've done that alone."

i smile and nod. it should be fun, it will be. but my brain can't help to wonder if the one person who's kept me away from coming home will be there. no, he wouldn't. not with the pogues. but a part of me can't help but hope to see his face.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

i fix my sweater in the mirror in my room, my body fidgeting from anxiety. it's been a few days and i still can't shake that feeling from my body about being home. sure, i'm happy but this place holds so many memories. memories i wish to bury. i stare at the photo booth picture tucked into my mirror of him and i. i guess i forgot to hide this with the rest of the stuff. i take it off the mirror and sigh, examining it.

almost four years since it was taken. almost four years since we called it quits. and yet, he still haunts my memories. his presence making itself known through cheap beer at the bar, expensive men's cologne at the mall, exhaust that leaves motorbikes as they ride down the street. he's always there, whether i like it or not.

the sound of a horn breaks me free of my thoughts.

"y/n, they're here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"coming!" i open my dresser drawer and slip the photo in before racing downstairs. i kiss my mom on the cheek and slip out the door, rushing into the van.

"ready to get fucked up?" jj asks with his devilish smirk.

i roll my eyes and laugh. "let's go."

we pull up to the wreck, it's already dark outside and a slight breeze fills the air. we all hurry in, greeted by familiar faces. my name is called from every direction, old friends from high school or the beach. all my fellow pogues who i know and love. when i'm done making my rounds, i head over to our table. everyone has some drink in their hand, beer or cocktail, and they all smile up at me.

"who would've though little y/n y/l/n would be a pogue celebrity?" pope jokes.

i flip him off and slide in next to john b. kiara hands me a beer and i take a sip. "i'm not a celebrity, i'm just one of the only people from this island who actually made it off."

they all make jokes at my despair, teasing me in any way they could when sarah walks up. i feel my stomach flip and i smile at her. "y/n!" she embraces me. "i'm so happy to see you!"

i hug her back and smile. "me too, sar. how's everything been?"

"the usual but i can't complain." she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "it's been forever."

"it has." i sigh. "it really has."

we all share stories and laugh around the table. we take shots, chug beer, and play different drinking games. just like old times sake.

"i need another beer." i say with a slight slur in my voice, standing up. "anyone else?" everyone shakes their head as i excuse myself.

i walk up to the bar and wait my turn, twirling my debit card in my hand. it could be the alcohol but i feel content and happy to be home.

"y/n?"

until that moment.

i don't want to turn around, i don't even want to accept my fate in this situation.

i know that voice, i could recognize it in a crowd of millions of people. it was the voice that lingered in my dreams, my thoughts.

i turn around and look at the man.

"rafe."

he looks older, his hair buzzed and some facial hair covering his face. but those eyes. they are the same eyes of the boy i loved.

we stood there, not saying a word. just taking the sight of one another in.

"i didn't know you were home." he says, not breaking eye contact.

i nod, biting my lip. "i am, i got home monday."

he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "how long you here for?"

"till saturday. then i'm going back to boston." my throat feels scratchy and my face is on fire. i want to be anywhere but here now.

his eyes continue to study me. "two more budweiser's, please." he says to the bartender. i open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. "on me, think of it as a welcome home gift."

the bartender hands me the beer and i smile. i turn back to rafe and tip the bottle to him. "thanks."

"no problem." he clinks his bottle to mine. we both take a long sip. my eyes are desperately trying to find a place to land, ending up on the bright sign above the bar. but rafe's are still on me.

"you okay?" kiara asks as she walks behind rafe. she is my gurdian angel.

"yeah, just waiting for my beer. excuse me." i squeeze past rafe and walk back to my table. i look back at him and smiles. i hate him.

a few drinks more and my ears are ringing. it was loud and everyone was far too drunk. i excuse myself for air outside. there are a few people lingering, smoking cigarettes or waiting for ubers. i smile and take in the nostalgia.

"you know, it would've been nice to know you were home." i hear rafe's voice next to me.

i roll my eyes and look up at him. "oh, would it have been? sorry, i didn't think you'd care." i say coldly. that liquid courage is taking control.

he looks down at me. "and why would i have not cared?"

"hmm, let me think." i put my finger to my chin. "oh, right. 'don't ever contact me again. we're so over. i wish i never met you. blah. blah. blah.' do you want me to go on?" i say to him.

i watch as he processes what i said to him, the words of our last fight. he looks guilty, for once in his life. "that was years ago, y/n. w-we were just kids."

"oh, really? then why haven't i heard from you for the past few years? phone works both ways, rafe." i say, shrugging.

he stands there quietly, i got him.

"how's school been?" he asks, nonchalantly.

"are you for real?" i ask.

"what? i'm being nice." he says.

i huff with frustration. "you are such an ass." i push pass him and walk onto the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asks, following after me.

"away from you." i say, not looking back.

i hear him run up behind me and he gently grabs my arm. "y/n. y/n, stop."

i turn to look at him. "what do you want from me, huh? you want to torture me even more?"

he stares at me, hand still on my arm. "what? of course not. y/n, i missed you."

"fuck off." i spit out without thinking.

"you're drunk."

"and you're an asshole." i say, flatly. "you...you fucking broke my heart and you expect me to act like everything is fucking dandy?"

"y/n." he tries to plead his case.

"no, rafe. you don't get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay with us. do you know how much you fucked me over? one day you're telling me you love me and you want to move to boston with me and the next, you're dumping me over the phone." i poke his chest. "i did everything you wanted, i kept what we had between us a secret, i took care of you. and nothing was enough for you."

he looks down at his feet in guilt. "i-i know, i'm sorry. i was...i was fucked up back then. with my dad on my case and the drinking...i wasn't okay. i felt like..." he cut himself off.

"what, rafe? you felt like, what?" i ask.

"like i was going to hold you back, alright?" he raises his voice. "you are too good for this place, for me. i didn't want to hold you back. i loved you too much to do that to you." i stare at him and laugh. "what? what's so fucking funny?"

"you, rafe. you." i sigh. "instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid. we could've worked that out. but you were too scared." i close my eyes and shake my head. "goodbye, rafe."

i walk down the street, hugging my body as the wind blows. a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but there's still that feeling i get whenever i think of him. that feeling that i miss him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

thanksgiving flew by, even though i had a hangover that felt like it would last a lifetime.

i helped my mom clean up the kitchen as the pogues did the dishes and took the trash out. just like old times.

once we were done, we sat outside around the bonfire. you would think after yesterday, drinking would come to a halt but jj found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and mixed it with kiara's apple cider. we all enjoyed each other's company but my mind could not help but wander. my last conversation with rafe ringing through my head.

"instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid."

i shake my head and take a sip of my spiked cider. as much as it rang true, there was still that part of me that wonders 'what if?'. the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to pick up my phone.

no, i need to be the bigger person. i'm stronger than that. i can't text him first.

then i felt my phone buzz in my lap.

rafe: hey

i stare at the text and bite my lip. i know i should ignore it, let it go unread. but my fingers work against my brain and type 'hi' back to him. i sit there, eagerly waiting for a response.

rafe: can we talk?

rafe: i'm sorry about last night, i'm a fucking idiot.

rafe: there's so many things i could say to you rn

rafe: but i miss you.

rafe: i wanna see you.

i look around at my friends and sigh, they would be so mad at me for this.

y/n: sure, give me like an hour.

y/n: park down the street at the usual spot.

my friends leave my house, mainly due to me faking another wave of hungover puking. i run upstairs and check myself out in the mirror, i look damn good. when i get his text, i sneak out the backdoor and hurry down the street. i see his truck parked under the big tree, the spot he always parked in.

i open the truck door and hop into the passenger seat. i look over at him, he's still in his dressy clothes. a blue polo that hugged his arms right and khakis that made his thighs look exceptionally big. he knew what he was doing and i can't tell if i hate him or love him for it.

we drive in silence for a bit, his radio playing music faintly. his hands grip the steering wheel as his mind looks like he's on another planet. i play with the ends of my sweatshirt, anxiously waiting for him to do something. anything.

he pulls up to the beach, the spot where we would always come to. it was dark and the waves crashed against the shore loudly. he turns the car off and looks over at me.

"thanks for meeting me." he says simply.

"sure."

"i'm sorry about last night. you went out to have fun and i ruined it, i know i did."

i just nod at him.

"and...you were right. about it all." he sighs, running his hands over his face. "i should've manned up, talked to you about how i was feeling. but you know how i get. i get too in my head and just jump to conclusions. it wasn't fair to you." he looks into my eyes. "these past few years without you have been a living hell and i have only myself to blame."

"are you drunk? high?" i ask.

"w-what?"

"are you not sober?" i ask again.

"i'm sorry, what? of course i'm fucking sober." he says. "why would i not be?"

"rafe cameron...taking accountability? i'm sorry, it just seems so...foreign?" i laugh.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

i laugh again. "oh, i'm sure. and...the sky is green. we live on the planet pluto. aliens exist and so do unicorns!"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "y/n, i'm telling the truth! god, you always joke around."

"yeah, because i know you." i say to him. "and you would rather eat concrete than admit you are wrong."

"eat concrete?" he asks, with a smirk.

"you know what i mean!" i huff with frustration.

he grabs my hand and stares in my eyes. "y/n, i am fully sober. we are not in another universe, it is not opposite day. i was wrong and i am sorry."

my brain malfunctions as i look into his eyes. "y-you mean it?"

"every word i said."

my brain not working means i experienced a lack of better judgment. i grab rafe by his collar and connect our lips for the first time in years. this kiss, the one i have longed for since i left this place, was the missing puzzle piece i've been searching for in my life. everything seemed to make sense again.

his hands cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped into my mouth. he was hungry for me and i wasn't going to stop him because i felt insatiable as well. his hands roamed from my cheeks down to my neck and onto my shoulders.

i needed more.

i climbed onto his lap and straddled him. my arms connected around his neck as he pressed against me. i felt his cock hard against his khakis and i wanted it. i wanted it all. i rubbed myself against him, causing us both to moan.

he continued to kiss me until he broke away and looked at me. his puffy lips formed a cocky smile as he brushed his nose against mine. "you missed me."

"shut up." i was itching for more.

"admit it, you missed me. you missed the way i made you feel." he states.

"rafe, shut up and kiss me, please."

"ah ah ah." he shook his head. "not until you tell me."

"you're such an ass." i roll my eyes, trying to catch my breathe.

"yet, here you are, rubbing yourself against me in my truck." he says, kissing my cheek. his lips then go to my ear and down my neck. "i want it all with you, right now, babe. but i need to hear it."

"fine! fuck, i missed you. are you happy?" i groan, needing him.

"very. get in the backseat." he demands. i quickly follow his order, hopping in the back over the seats. he gets out of the truck and opens up the back door, sliding in next to me. "come here." he pulls me back onto his lap and we pick up where we left off. i continue to rub myself against him as he sloppily kisses me. "just like old times." he jokes and i hit his shoulder. "c'mon, don't act like you don't think about it."

"oh, i do. but i bet you think about it more than i do." i smirk.

"probably." he laughs. his fingers fall to the hem of my sweater and he plays with it. "now are we only here to kiss or?"

"why? you wanna fuck me in your truck? just like old times." i say, making fun of what he just said.

"i do, i wanna fuck you right here, right now. it's all i've been wanting to do." he kisses my jawline. "do you want me to fuck you?"

this is what i missed the most, our back and forth.

"yes, rafe. i want you to fuck me." i moan out.

with that, he practically rips my sweater off my body and starts to kiss down my chest. his large hands palm my clothed breast. i bite my lip and let my head fall back, missing the way he affected my body. i felt his hand snake around to the back and unclip my bra quickly.

"show off." i say, out of breathe.

i smirks and connects his lips to my nipple, sucking and licking it. his hand massaging my other. "don't pretend you don't like it."

i smirk and shake my head.

he continues to focus on my tits, going back and forth between the two.

"more." i whisper, eyes clenched shut.

"what was that?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"i need more, rafe. please." i beg.

"look at you all needy for me. i knew you missed me." his hand slipped under my jeans and panties, stopping right at my core. i felt his fingers curl inside me, going in and out. "all wet for me, huh? what a good girl." he pushed in, fingering my cunt, when his thumb found my sensitive bud. he added pressure, circling it, and i felt as though i was seeing stars.

"s-shit." i cry out, moving my hips to try and gain some friction.

"feel good, baby? let me hear how could i make you feel." he picked up his pace and a pornographic moan escaped my lips. it's been forever since someone has made me feel this good. rafe knew my body like it was his own, he knew how to get me going. "there we go, like how my fingers feel?"

"u-uh huh." i nod, mouth hanging open.

his fingers worked their magic, rubbing my clit at a pace that'll make me come undone in no time. "love the way you look on top of me, baby. so fucking sexy." he attached his lips to my tits again and continued fingering me.

i felt on fire.

i place one hand on the window and the other on his shoulder, holding on for dear life. the more he whispered about me and the faster his fingers were going, i was cumming on his fingers before i knew it. i rode out my high, screaming his name. once i was done, i felt him pull his fingers out of my pants, my juices getting all over myself. i stared down at him, trying to catch my breathe, as he popped his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

"just as good as i remember." he cleaned his fingers off and kissed me again. my hands ran down his buff chest and stopped at the bottom of his polo, lifting it up. his gold chain laid against his chiseled body, he was perfect. i felt as though i was in a trance as i began to kiss down his chest. i could feel his groans vibrating in his chest and i smirked because i was the one making him feel this way. "i need to fuck you."

"you need to?" i laugh, kissing lower and lower.

"yes, y/n. i need to bury myself inside of you, please." he pleaded.

"i like when you're the one begging." i bite him lightly, causing him to hiss.

"i bet."

i unbuttoned his khakis and sat up so he could slip them off. his grey boxers were discolored from the precum leaking off his cock. he took his underwear off and his cock sprung out. "i-i don't have protection." he said, mentally cursing himself out.

"well, are you clean?" i ask.

"yes. i-i haven't been with anyone since." he openly admitted.

i felt the darkness overtake my eyes as i lower myself down onto him. his breath hitched as he slipped all the way in. he was deep inside of me, causing a few tears to leave my eyes. but the pain subsided as he started to rock my hips with his hands, moving me back and forth. i picked up the rhythm he started with me and placed my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. i felt the truck rocking back and forth as i did so.

his hands found my ass and rested there. "fuck, i missed your pussy. so good, takes me so well." he kissed my chest as i grinded back and forth.

i felt my finger nails dig into his shoulder as his cock hit all the right spots. i looked down at him and he stared at me in awe, like i was some work of art. "fuck, rafe. you're so big."

i bite my lip as i let my head fall back in pleasure. i ride him fast as i keep saying his name. "shit, y/n. you're such a good girl, you're so hot. you feel so tight."

i connect our lips, i feel his hands tighten around my ass. this means he was close. "i want you to cum in me, rafe." his eyes widen as he opens his mouth to ask for permission. "p-please fill me up. i miss it so much." i say, trying to catch my breathe.

with that, he lets out a groan and my name falls from his lips like a prayer. "y/n." i feel him coming inside me, painting me. it doesn't take long for his thumb to find my clit again. with the extra pressure applied to my overstimulated cunt, i feel my head reeling. the air in the truck is hot, making it almost hard for me to breath. it all feels too much, my body releasing onto rafe yet again.

we sit there, panting with our eyes closed. i rest my head on his sweaty chest and he kisses me gently. he rubs my back, tracing circles into it.

"felt even better than i imagine." he says, his voice gruff.

"you thought about it a lot, huh?" i smirk.

"all the fucking time."

i take him out of me and sit next to him in the truck. the windows are foggy and our hands find each other, holding them. i get a sense of weird nostalgia, from how things used to be with us.

"well that was a thanksgiving to remember." i joke, trying not to feel overwhelmed by what happened.

"'tis the damn season." he replies.

i slowly slip my sweater back on and try to find my pants.

"w-wait." rafe says. "is this...is this it? just a single fuck and you're gone."

i look at him, his eyes pleading with me.

"i go back to boston on saturday rafe, we only have like a day and a half."

i wish we could keep this going, i wish this was how things always were. but i had to think realistically. i have to go back home, i have to move on with my new life.

he grabs my hand and squeezes it. "boston is only an 11 hour drive. hour or two by plane."

"rafe." i say.

"i can't lose you again. i can't, y/n. these past few years have sucked without you. i can't wait until you come home for christmas again. now that i've got you again, i can't risk it."

i sigh and kiss his hand. "i know. i know." i close my eyes and shake my head. "we'll make it work. we almost did it before."

"we can do it again." he smiles sweetly. i kiss his lips gently, laying my hand against his chest.

"you'd do an 11 hour car ride for me?"

"y/n, i'd fucking walk if i have to." he smiles.

i roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. "you're so cheesy."

he lays me back against the truck seats and kisses me. "don't act like it doesn't work for you."

[mapiforpresident]

Lovesick 2

Georgia Stanway x reader

Summary: You and Georgia are utterly in love with each other.

part 1

~~~

You scanned the room, balancing your tray in one hand and tugging Georgia by the other toward an open spot at a long table. Keira and Leah were already seated, mid-argument about something entirely trivial, while Lucy, Toone, and Less were laughing about god knows what a couple seats down.

“Here we go,” you said, setting your tray down. Georgia smirked as she dramatically pulled out your chair for you. “For the queen.”

“Such a gentlewoman,” you teased, sitting down before yanking her into the seat beside you. She leaned closer, her voice dropping so only you could hear. “Do I get a reward for this royal treatment later?”

You flushed, glancing around to ensure no one heard her. “Georgia!”

She just laughed, her grin as cheeky as ever, and stole a fry off your plate.

“Oi!” you protested, swatting her hand away.

“What’s yours is mine, baby cakes,” she said with a wink.

Keira groaned from across the table, dropping her fork onto her plate with an exaggerated sigh. “Not this again. Can we have one meal where you two don’t make everyone else feel like third wheels?”

Leah leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Honestly. And can we also ban ‘baby cakes’? It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Williamson,” Georgia quipped, casually popping another one of your fries into her mouth.

“I’m not jealous. I’m repulsed,” Leah shot back, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

“Sounds like something a jealous person would say,” you teased, leaning against Georgia as she threw an arm around your shoulders.

“Leave her alone,” Keira interjected, pointing her fork at you both. “It’s not her fault her love life is drier than the Sahara.”

The table erupted in laughter, Leah rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

“All right, all right,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

As the banter died down, Lucy joined the conversation, discussing the upcoming game. You half-listened, too distracted by Georgia absently tracing patterns on your shoulder with her thumb.

“You good, love?” she asked softly, noticing your distraction.

“Yeah,” you replied, resting your head against her. “Just tired. Training was brutal.”

“You need to start taking it easy. You’re always pushing too hard,” she said, concern flickering in her eyes.

“Pot, meet kettle,” you teased, poking her side. “You’re the one who’s always diving into tackles like it’s a World Cup final.”

“True,” Georgia conceded with a grin. “But I still think you should let me take care of you tonight. Post-training relaxation session?”

Leah groaned audibly. “For the love of football, get a room.”

“We will,” Georgia shot back with a smirk, standing up and tugging you to your feet. “In fact, we’re going right now. Later, losers.”

You barely had time to grab your tray as she led you out of the cafeteria, the sounds of Keira and Leah’s groans of protest following you down the hallway.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Georgia pulled you into a quick kiss, her grin softening as she murmured, “I really do want you to rest, okay? No overdoing it.”

“Fine,” you said with a dramatic sigh, though the warmth in her eyes made your heart flutter. “But only if you join me. Deal?”

“Always,” she promised, lacing her fingers with yours as you headed back to your room.

[lemotmo]

Yeah let's not do this for 3 months people. He's not leaving! We're at the beginning of Buddie!!!

Q. I'm so confused by all the excitement, and I admit that I struggle with facial awareness, but all we got was Eddie saying he's leaving so that feels way more like a Ryan exit than a beginning to Buddie. What did I miss?

A. Okay I'm going to say this once, and only once. We are not spending 3 months on a nonstarter spiral. Ryan is not leaving. It's not an exit story. It's the beginning of a feelings realization story, only Eddie hasn't quite arrived at the starting point for his part yet. Lots of people struggle with facial cues, anon, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not an exit storyline. It's drama set up to kick start Buck's spiral and to bring Christopher home. That's why I loved that they had Buck on the couch and Eddie in the kitchen. The couch has kind of always been used to symbolize a romantic relationship between Buck and Eddie, both of them being home when they're on that couch, so putting Buck on the couch in that scene basically puts Buck in position. Buck has arrived at the start of his realization arc. The box has been opened (the box being his long unexamined feelings for Eddie) and he won't be able to put the lid back on it this time. The moment we see Buck have at the end of the episode was not his 'oh Eddie's my person' moment but it was the start of Buck's journey to that realization. Buck was devastated in that moment, but for the sake of Eddie, he attempted to fake enthusiasm. Eddie being happy means more to Buck than his fear of being left behind, again. But that fear will come out when the season returns in March. Tim basically confirmed that Buck will spiral and he will throw himself into a distraction to try and block his pain. That distraction will inevitably fail, as Tim also already spoiled (they learned their Tommy lesson and they won't be repeating it), and that will force Buck to once and for all have to confront and figure out why the thought of losing Eddie sends him spiraling. The end of the episode was the beginning of Buck's journey.

Eddie hasn't reached his starting point, yet. But having him in the kitchen, the other big Buddie room, was a way to show that he is close. Framing the shot the way they did, Eddie having a straight line of sight to Buck on the couch, was intentional. Eddie is close but he's not there yet. He's distracted by the whole Christopher thing, as he should be. Eddie won't be able to arrive at his starting point until he gets the Christopher situation settled. That entire scene was LOUD. Buck letting himself in using his key. Eddie not being able to look at Buck when talking about moving. The flirty way Buck asked what he was watching on the iPad, fully believing it was porn. And again the way the entire scene was framed and shot. The close up of Eddie's face when he realizes he's not alone in this moment and that he does have someone in his corner. Then the close up of Buck's face when he allows the mask of enthusiasm to slip and we see the real sadness that he is feeling. It was very clearly the beginning of their storyline. It was in no way shaped, framed or written as the beginning of an exit storyline. It's happening, anon. Let yourself enjoy the build up 💗

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated!

YES to all that Ali talked about here! Let's be happy you guys. We are finally here after 7 very long years of ups and many downs. This is the first time we've actually gotten real confirmation that the Buddie slow burn is on!

Let's enjoy this break before the show comes back, because I anticipate a lot of drama in 8b. And once the show is back on? Let's just sit back, relax and watch Buddie's story unfold. It'll be glorious!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[notpixl]

Realizing they’re in love with you! HSR Edition

(Ft. Robin, Acheron, Blackswan, Feixiao)

Y’all this came up to me while in class the voices told me to write this okay or else they’ll delete my accounts 🥲

Also, Beauty amidst Death will have an update. I’m just cringing at the fact that I decided leave it in strange place and am wondering how to continue it…

GN!Reader as usual. I want all sides to be happy

—————

———

—————

Robin

It’s… weird?

Well, she does get the usual fans declaring their love to her and all but somehow you’re different??? Like what-

Nowadays, whenever you two hug she’s always a blushing mess! And how come she just noticed that you’re… really, really close…

Too close…

There’s like this feeling on her stomach whenever you two are together. It doesn’t matter if it’s a call, a meetup, or just hanging out! It… It’s always there!

And whenever your name is mentioned her ears perk up! Like… what did do you to her?!

Eventually she’ll consult about these feelings with Sunday but he just chuckles it off, leaving her to guess what it is. (At least give her a hint!)

Though the answer would come knocking at her door

It was a simple gift

From you

There’s a little note etched into the cover

“For someone that means so much to me :)”

Opening it revealed a pretty little necklace

With a Dove as its Pendant

…come to think of it don’t they represent something?

She’s sure it was something about…

Peace…

Freedom…

And Love!

Wait…

Love…?

Oh

Oh

She slowly covers her face in embarrassment

Why… did it take her so long to figure this out?!

Aeons, she’s so dumb!

“All this time I was in love with them…”

Acheron

She’s met many people

Countless if you will

But why…?

Why is it that in this ever current flow of forgetting and remembering…

She just can’t seem to forget your lovely face?

She’ll rush to the libraries, read the news, heck, even threaten ask the greatest philosophers on what this feeling means!

Perhaps that Memokeeper knows something…?

Oh forget it!

She’ll tackle this head-on!

…by asking you herself.

“Ah… so that’s it is… Love.”

Black Swan

Hmm… what a quaint feeling she’s having when you’re around

Love, isn’t it?

She’s only seen and heard about it… but not once has she ever had the chance to have a feel…

…would you reciprocate these feeling as well?

Although that possibility comes in mind…

She’d rather hear it from you than face the harsh reality of rejection

Then again…

Would her as a whole be enough?

She’s never considered using her body to charm someone, let alone the person she has come to love…

Perhaps…

Perhaps you will

“The possibilities are endless… but I’ll never stop it from blooming.”

Feixiao

She’s rather perplexed

Wait- no… yeah no that actually works-

All it takes was one glance during her walk and now she’s stumbling on her way to work with this… strange feeling

There’s no point in running away, she already has Moze tracking you down

She’d talk to Jiaoqiu about this, only receiving a shrug and scraps of determination to “find it out herself.”

Cheeky Foxian…

Hmm…

Maybe she should ask from the source itself?

———

You lay in bed, already done with today’s schedule when you notice a shift in weight on your waist

Your eyes hesitate to open

“That’s not a good way to greet guests, isn’t it?”

Moving won’t help

“Look at me.”

You’re met with such a pair of eyes you can’t even begin to describe them

Scary? Beautiful? I think that shouldn’t be your main concern right now-

“I’ve got a question…”

Her grip tightens on your shoulders

“What did you do to me?”

—————

———

—————

Um… no comment down here

I hope you enjoyed/hated it

Asks are always open I guess if you want to force me to write and die and sob and and and a sn

[glorixuspurpose]

can i request jayce talis x reader where they are kind of rivals but get roped into fake dating each other and fall inlove.

omll I love this request!!! this may not be my best work but hopefully you like it!!

Jayce Talis x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

 Your heels clicked against the floor as you subtly stormed out of the council room. It never failed to piss you off, how he got everything he wanted, just like that. You climbed your way out of the Undercity, working double time just to get where you were, yet Jayce got on the council at the snap of a finger. You were almost at the end of the hallway, about to turn, when a voice called your name against the silent air–Jayce. You sighed as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest. 

 “What’s next? You want my seat too?” You deadpanned. You knew you were being a bit unfair, but life isn’t fair. You knew firsthand. 

“It’s not like that.” Jayce sighed, before continuing. “I’ve heard the council has galas.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and?” 

“You should be my date.”

“Absolutely not–”

“Just hear me out! It doesn’t have to be real or anything, just to make both of us look good.” 

 “And how does this make me look good?” You asked.

“How does it not? You and the golden boy, seemingly in love?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” You muttered, before turning to keep walking. 

Jayce grabbed your wrist, turning you back to him. “Wait. Just…hear me out. Not to be rude, but you’re not exactly the most…well loved council member.”

“So?” You yanked your wrist away. “I don’t need to be.”

 “Maybe not, but no one takes you seriously.”

“...People take me seriously.” You crossed your arms again, averting your gaze. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. 

“Okay, well…maybe they don’t, but the council does. And besides, I don’t need a man to prove how likable and serious I am. I can do that on my own.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Jayce quipped as you began to walk away again. 

But then, once again, you stopped in your tracks, turning around again to Jayce standing in the same spot. He knew you’d come around. You pushed the thought of your head.

 “You know what? Fine. Prove it to me that I’ll be so much more likable if I’m with you. But there’s one rule. No kissing, or anything of the sort, don’t try any of that sappy stuff you see in the movies, got it?”

Jayce nodded. “Ma’am yes ma’am.”(or sir you do you)

You narrowed your eyes at him, scrutinizing him. “The gala starts at nine. Don’t be late.”

                                                                            ***

 You leaned against one of the golden pillars as you took a sip of your third drink of the night. You weren’t usually a drinker, but you were too stressed–and annoyed–to not have at least one. Your supposed “date” hadn’t shown up yet, or so you thought. Not that you were disappointed or anything, let alone expecting to see him. You weren’t one of those little Piltover girls who fawned over any young man younger than 35 in politics. 

You just about downed the rest of the glass as you felt a hand on your shoulder, a bouquet entering your view. It was Jayce.

 “Flowers? Really? I thought I said–”

“For the ‘act’ of course.” He winked as he handed the bouquet over to you. 

You inspected it, before placing it in a random empty vase. “I’m not a flower type of person.” You told him as you walked away, preferably towards a table.

Jayce quickly followed after her, hands behind his back. 

He pulled out a chair for you, motioning for you to sit. As you did, he sat in the chair next to you. 

 “So; those flowers are why you’re late.”

“I wasn’t late. I was searching for you.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Hmph.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” You grabbed another glass off of a passing waiter’s platter. 

“Where you…I don’t know, analyze me. Honestly, I have a feeling that you hate me.” 

“Where could you possibly get that idea?” You asked sarcastically, before setting down the glass. “I don’t necessarily hate you, I just don’t like you. I don’t like you because you get your ass handed to you all the time. Meanwhile, I barely have one because I’ve worked it all off.” You explained. 

 “I beg to differ with that last statement…” He trailed off as his eyes wandered over your lower half. You smacked his arm. 

“It was metaphorical.” You seethed. “Besides, you know it’s true. First you’re some student who blows up his own lab and is locked up for a while, and now you’re some councilor. If my life was this fair, I wouldn’t ever complain.” 

“First of all, that lab incident was not me.” 

“So how come you were prosecuted?”

 He looked at you for a second, before sighing. “You know what? Now I get why people don’t like you.”

“Wow, I’m not surprised.” You took another sip out of your glass. 

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Jayce almost yelled, causing a few glances to be cast their way. He sighed, lowering his voice. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else. You’re so…aloof. But you’re not aloof. You’re full of it.” 

 “Don’t act like you all of a sudden know everything about me now, Talis. You’re just as full of it as everyone else on this damn council!”

Jayce ran a hand over his face. “Look, maybe we don’t see eye to eye right now, but can we please just pretend that we can?” 

“I don’t appreciate you trying to act like such a peacekeeper, but I guess.” You agreed as you went to take another sip, before Jayce stopped you, taking the glass out of your hand. 

 “Maybe this is one of the problems.” He said, gesturing to the glass.

“Oh, shut up.” 

                                                                            ***

 After the excruciatingly long gala, Mel finally gave a closing speech, allowing everyone to leave and go home or wherever they stayed.

The walk back to each others’ quarters was mostly silent, until Jayce finally spoke up. 

“You know…I appreciate this; no matter how much you may resent me.”

“Appreciate what? Me pretending to love you?” 

“Touche, but not that. Just…being in my company. Sure you were…albeit a bit stiff, but…I still got to see more of you than what I would've just in the council room.” They took a detour, standing at a balcony instead. 

 While you stared at the moon, Jayce stared at you. “I guess I appreciate it a bit. I’ve never…been on a date before, so…”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

You turned to look at him. “Well, it’s true. Sure, it’s not a real date, but date is still in the name, right? Besides…you’re not half bad.”

Jayce chuckled. “Well, coming from you, that means a lot.” 

You smiled, turning back to the moon. You two stayed quiet for a moment longer, before Jayce started again. 

 “You know…this will probably go in one ear and out the other, but…you do know that it wasn’t my intention, getting on the council, right?” 

“I guess. But I suppose it doesn’t irk me any less. Not that it’s exactly your fault, but…you know. It’s a bit annoying when you see someone get what you worked years for at the drop of a pin.” 

“Yeah, I guess I understand.”

“Do you?” 

“Okay, maybe not. But my words still stand. Besides, even a man who’s blind could see how hard you’ve worked. Not just to get here, but in your life in general. You seem to never rest. Maybe you should.” 

 “Me? Rest? That’s foreign.” You both chuckled before you turned to face him again.

“Okay, maybe not. But it’s not frowned upon to take a break once in a while. And before you even say it, you won’t seem weak.” 

You sighed. “I guess.” 

He stared at you for a few more moments before asking, “Do you…mind if I kiss you? I know it’s against your rule, but–”

You didn’t let him say another word before leaning up to kiss him. His eyes widened in surprise before he eventually closed them and kissed back. 

 You’re not sure how long you two kissed before eventually pulling away.

“You know what, Talis? Maybe you being on the council won’t be that bad after all.” You smiled. He smiled too. 

“You think so.” 

“I know so. See you tomorrow, Golden Boy?” You asked, adjusting his collar. 

“Uh…yeah.” 

“Good.” You said, before walking away, leaving him staring at the spot you just occupied. 

[temis-de-leon]

Please make sure to take care of yourself 🥺 Write whenever you feel like it and when you have the time but don't force yourself to write 😤 - Romance Anon

Crush hugging him because of a horror movie - 500 F.C.

Characters: Diavolo x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: Romance anon

A/N: Toni Colette, the woman that you are. And thank you Romance, for your never-ending patience <3

C/W: a bit suggestive there at the beginning, pinning, very vague description of Hereditary's ending

.

He would be lying if he said having you so close to him, practically sitting on his lap, while moaning a myriad of ‘oh my God’, ‘please, God’ and, his personal favourite, ‘Dia, Dia, Dia…!’ wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. It was, and heavily; he just wished it took place under different circumstances.

Mainly because he was low-key freaking out too, although not as much as you.

Having seen a fair number of sinners, he knew some mortal minds weren’t simple or kind, which made the darkness of life and the suffering of others a rather pleasurable affair for them. It was fascinating, apparently, a broadly studied aspect of human society, and not just one of many media genres, that propelled the pharmaceutical and therapeutic intervention businesses; a cause and a consequence, something that should’ve been avoided or couldn’t have been helped.

And yet, out of all horrors, you chose a demonic possession movie? Were you trying to tease him?

Paimon wasn’t even that bad once you got the chance to meet him properly! He was an erudite whose knowledge covered all the arts, philosophy and science. A friend of Lucifer’s, keen on reciprocity foremost and eager to start a conversation with anyone who offered him the same amount of time and interest as he did. Unfortunately, Diavolo had the tiny suspicion you wouldn’t be in the mood to meet the captivating demon, nor his demanding dromedary, after watching the disturbing movie, but you should really give it a try!

He could still understand you, though.

“Oh, dear” he said in a quiet breath as the boy on the screen slowly turned around and miraculously missed his mother crawling on the walls.

Your eyes, which had been previously peeking between your fingers, closed shut. You turned to press your face against his chest again and he deeply hoped your fear kept you from noticing the rapid beating of his heart and the way his hand closed around your waist to bring you closer. His cheeks burned, not bothering to hide an enamoured smile. There was no use in doing so when you were trying so hard to disappear from the world amongst the creases of his uniform.

Still, you had asked him to watch the film together and he would be more than damned if he disappointed you in such a trivial matter, so he forced himself to look at the screen intensely, even when a naked man loomed from the shadows and the boy had to run away for his life, tripping and falling and barely climbing to the attic on time.

“I have to say, MC” he mustered, eyes open wide as the woman (Annie?) violently banged her head against the trap door while Peter cried in desperation from the other side. “I can’t understand the appeal of watching this. When you said you wanted a movie night, I thought you’d choose something… tamer”

More romantic is what he wanted to say. Diavolo had hoped to understand love from a human standpoint and see what you liked in order to do the same. Rose petals and champagne by the fireplace? Or shopping and dining in the most expensive places in the Devildom? Dancing in the rain? Stargazing? As observant as he was, he had no clue whether you reciprocated his infatuation, so, sadly, he preferred having your full attention on him whenever he showed his feelings; and at that moment not even an emergency would’ve made you let go of his embrace. It's not like he would ever complain about that, anyway.

“I didn’t want to watch the movie alone” you finally whimpered, letting go only enough to look up at him. “And I figured if someone could make me feel protected it would be you”

Your glassy eyes vaguely reflected his speechless expression and, suddenly, he was aware of everything. The weight of your body against his, bringing warmth and comfort, the smell of your clothes and the softness of your skin; your scared pouting and embarrassed blushing. Not knowing what to do with it anymore, he let his free hand awkwardly drop over your calves and immediately almost imploded when you instinctively tucked even closer.

There was no noise for a blissful moment, save for the heavy breathing and the buzzing coming from the speakers, and Diavolo briefly asked himself if a horror movie was still a good background for a love confession.

Then, a wet sound; a sawing motion.

You slowly turned to the gigantic TV, impending doom in your expression quickly morphing into heavy distress when the mother appeared once more on the screen. Your appalled scream almost made him cover his ears before you hid your face in his chest one final time.

“OH MY GOD, DIA, OH MY GOD”

Diavolo just hoped Barbatos wouldn’t ask any questions in the morning.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[synnamon-hearts]

Josh/Matt/Mike/Chris x Chubby!reader 🌚?

hcs or lil drabbles! also.. maybe some nsfw tehe

Oooo, okay!

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Josh ~ Surprisingly, Josh has never been one to have much of a preference. The man just wants to be loved by someone finally! So when you come into his life and maybe show him a bit of love he has been craving, he is hooked but asks you out only after a few months of pining away for you. He honestly finds you adorable in every way. Your chubby lil cheeks get him the most. Be careful! He's a pincher! You may have thought that he was doing it to make fun of your weight at first but that isn't the case at all. I believe that due to constant medication changes throughout his life, he had some weight gain experiences himself in the past. So it doesn't bother him in any way. He just pokes at you because he finds you so goddamn cute and he doesn't know how to show it other than being a bug. And he loves how soft and comfortable it is to cuddle you. He likes to lay his head on your stomach or lap while you watch a movie. It's like you are a warm pillow and he adores that. It helps him to sleep better at night too!

He loves your ass and thighs. He enjoys grasping them when he fucks you, feeling the softness between his fingers as he presses them into your flesh. The way your ass jiggles a bit extra when he fucks you from behind has him throthing at the damn mouth. This man is a biter 100%. He will pop a tit in his mouth while you ride him and go crazy! Or your ass, ohhhh it's SO getting covered in his teeth marks! And the way you look in sexy lingerie that he buys you is a sight that will stay on his mind for weeks after. And take his oxygen away. He begs for it. Sit on his face and let him eat his heart content while you smother him under your weight. Nothing will make him happier.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Matt ~ I think that Matt is that down-to-earth kind of guy who believes that it is what's on the inside that counts. He doesn't think that looks should be the only thing that attracts someone into a relationship with another. However, you still caught his eye and had his heart fluttering from the beginning. He thinks you are the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his whole life. That with your amazing personality, oh it's so a win for him. From the first date and on, you are his everything. He will spoil you, I swear! He takes you to all sorts of different stores and encourages you with showering compliments about how everything looks good on you. His guy is also a hugger. He loves how soft and warm your hugs are. In fact, he could hold you all day if you would let him. Of course, you would have no complaints if that was the case. He is such a sweetheart.

And this goes for love making as well. Oh boy, he is never letting you go once you are in bed or just about anywhere naked with him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight to him as he pounds into you, enjoying how plush and squishy you are. He wants to feel every part of you in these moments—he wants to get lost in you. He loves it when you wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you, squeezing him tightly to lock him into place. Ugh, it's absolutely divine to him. Do this simple move and that alone will have him coming back for seconds, maybe even thirds! You just have that special effect on him.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Mike ~ Mike was always the type of guy to go for the typical "pretty girls with barely any waist" girls. So falling for you was quite unexpected for both you and him. It started out as a friendship, both hanging out at parties and joking around together. At first, he found you kinda cute. Your laugh, your smile, your bright eyes, even your belly was a little adorable to him. But eventually, those feelings of adoration grew into something stronger. He began appreciating you in a new light and thinking of you more than usual. It was evident in his heart that you had tamed him, and he was quick to ask you out so he could make you his. Being with him leads to some deeper insecurities for yourself, being cheered always some girl throwing herself at him anywhere you go. But Mike always reassures you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your soft cheek, he only has eyes for you.

Fair warning, he is burying his face in between those tits. If you are riding him, it makes it even better. He loves the feel of them bouncing up and down on both sides of his face as you trust up and down on his aching cock. It just makes him crazy! Mike definitely is a pervert, but he can be so romantic with it at the same time. I'm talking candles, wine, maybe some gentle and loving roleplay to ease you into it. He didn't care much about the little things with other girls, but you are different. He isn't used to being with a girl like you, therefore he wants to appreciate and savor you fully and satisfy your every need to show you how much you truly mean to him.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Chris ~ This man—oh my God—he's smitten. You know he has a low self esteem so he is shy as fuck with you. You almost think he doesn't like you with how backwards and awkward he is around you. It has you feeling pretty down but then Josh—being the awesome wingman that he is—drunkenly tells you about how Chris has strong feelings for you one night at a party. So you make the first move and ask him out on a date. Chris treats you like a goddess. He doesn't care what others think or how they may see you, because all he sees is an angel on earth who he can call his. You have won a special place in the heart of Chris Hartley and you wouldn't be leaving it any time soon.

Now Chris, he's a body worshipper. He thinks that every part of you is beautiful and sexy and isn't afraid to show it in the bedroom. Your full tits? He's sucking them. Your stomach? Oh, he's kissing it all over. Your thick thighs and ass? Man, he will grope the hell out of them. He will do anything you ask of him if it means it's showing you how attracted he is to you. He is also a face sitting craver, and will beg for it almost every time. It's only partly because he loves the feeling of your weight down on his face though. He also just wants to treat you like his beautiful goddess should be treated by spoiling you with his tongue and later his aching cock.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 17: Catching up

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Send some love to @lovelivingmydreams who's written this wonderful story!

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“Should we catch mister Remus up on what happened the past fifty years?” Patton wondered as they walked towards the nearest village.

Remus had reluctantly accepted a cloak from Virgil to hide his altered form from the villagers.

“Oh Virgin told me everything already. Gussy got a promotion. All it took was every other great mage and above to kick the bucket. Except the high mages probably aren’t actually dead. The great mages… I saw some of them before I got locked up. They looked very dead,” Remus stated casually. “We’d all be stuck where we were if you three didn’t want to play hero and go snoop in a missing mage’s tower. That’s gutsy I’ll give you that. And that’s where you found Virgin in a box!”

“Stop calling him that,” Roman insisted, feeling Virgil’s annoyance at that nickname.

Remus turned to him with a smirk. “When he gets some I’ll stop calling him that,” he promised.

That… Confused Roman. Virgil had boyfriends before. Many from the sound of it. He didn’t think Virgil would be inexperienced… Virgil seemed amused by that statement, so he probably wasn’t.

Not something Roman wanted to be thinking about too much actually.

“Didn’t…” Patton started, but Virgil interrupted him.

“Anyway. My love life aside. There is a chance that there are some allies around who will help us no questions asked. Thomas is king, I don’t worry about him. It’s the council I am not sure about and I’d rather have the gang complete and agree on our story to keep these three out of trouble on the off chance this whole thing goes belly up,” Virgil explained, indicating Roman and his friends.

Roman was about to interject, but Remus interrupted him.

“So we gotta nap,” he said, clearly annoyed by that part of the plan. “Eat, and then go find Janni without any clue where to find him?” he surmised.

“Well, we have some clue. We have an area within which we need to search. We can start from the center and then go from there. Which just so happens to be… Here,” Virgil announced as they came upon the village.

“Oooh, I remember this one!” Remus cackled. “Didn’t you have a cult here for a while?” he wondered.

“Not a cult. Just…” Virgil tried to correct.

“Dude they had tattoos. It was a cult,” Remus grinned.

Virgil sighed. “You stop one forest fire,” he muttered.

“How long is ‘a while’?” Logan wondered. Which was fair. A while for them might mean something entirely different to them than to the centuries old mages.

“A decade or two,” Virgil admitted.

“Dude, babies were born and raised on the idea that you were an actual god,” Remus chuckled.

“It was a very isolated town back then. Not many travelers going through, let alone mages. Few even knew it was there,” Virgil explained.

“And worrywart Virgin kept tabs on those wittle settlements like a good wittle high mage,” Remus teased.

“I wasn’t the only one,” Virgil pointed out. “You are more of an outlier than me in that regard.”

Remus shrugged. “Anyway, Virgie finally had enough of the worship every time he checked up on the wards and asked me for help setting things straight. I’m pretty sure they still thought we were something divine for a good while after that… I think that kid… Damian?” Remus mused.

Virgil nodded. “Once Damian was found to be gifted and he went to school, he managed to convince his family and neighbors that magic, while powerful, is not an indication of the divine,” he recalled. They made their way to one of the larger buildings. Not the inn though. “Ever since, I’ve been treated as a welcome guest,” Virgil mused.

“And I as a scary reminder to treat you as a person,” Remus grinned, elbowing his friend in the side.

Virgil chuckled and knocked on the door. “Here’s hoping for allies,” he mused.

Not much later, a woman in her early twenties opened the door.

Virgil relaxed. "Daughter of James, son of Adam?" he guessed, pulling his hood back just a bit.

The woman gasped. “You are here,” she breathed as she ushered them inside.

"Grandfather will be thrilled," she said in an excited tone as she led him onward to the living room where an elderly man in his seventies was seated along with a man in his late forties or early fifties. They both rose from their seats, the eldest a bit less fluently.

"Please, stay seated," Virgil bid, making the eldest gasp. "Virgil... it really is you," he whispered. Virgil pulled back his cloak, revealing his cursed appearance, the man seemed unphased.

"Hey, Adam. You look good," he smiled fondly.

"No need to lie," Adam chuckled, tears welling up in his eyes. "When we got the message... I didn't think I'd see you this soon. But I came here because I knew that if you did end up in the area, this was where you'd look for aid," he explained shakily. Virgil gently guided him back to his seat. "Well, I found Remus in the area, so I couldn't just pass you by. What message, though?" Virgil wondered. Adam pointed at the table. A messaging stone.

"The phoenix has risen," Adam said weightily. "That was the message," he said. Then he took in Roman and his friends. "Are we all allies of the high Mage?" he asked firmly.

"They are good, Adam. Man, you got serious while I was away. I remember you being much more fun," Virgil chided playfully.

Adam smiled fondly at him. "Well, what I am about to reveal could put my family and our allies at risk, so I have to be cautious,” he offered apologetically. “We are the guardians of the Phoenix secret. We shared information on your last years and those of other high mages that kept in contact with the common folk,” he explained. Then he leaned forward, looking Virgil in the eye. “There are wizards and mages the council has no knowledge about. No one knew what the ritual that would allow them to become great mages entailed exactly I'm afraid. And we didn't stumble upon it while we tried to educate free thinking magic wielders as we'd hoped. But still, you'll have plenty of students of varying ages eager for some more guidance. Many of them have lost a loved one to the plague and did not accept the official explanation for their passing. They eagerly await word from you," Adam explained.

Virgil chuckled. "I should have known you'd keep your trouble maker tendencies even after taking over as caretaker of the town," he mused.

"But it's good to know there will be mages around to help guide the official magic community." The cursed high mage decided. "I'll help them as soon as we know what happened to the other high mages. We already found the smoldering heart and the frozen tempest. I'm sure there will be more returning to help soon," he promised.

"How can we help?" The other man, James probably, wondered eagerly.

"We could use someplace to rest for an hour. Food. And information. Anything about where Janus silver tongue was last seen or anything about a basilisk in the area," Virgil summarized.

"We won’t need a big room," Remus assured them as he pulled a flustered Patton closer by the waist.

"I'll fit this one in my lap," he mused. To which Patton made a high pitched squeak.

"Don't make him uncomfortable Remus,” Virgil warned.

Remus let go of Patton. "Came Vigini!" He whined petulantly. Roman was at a complete loss as to what he just said. And then Virgil responded in kind.

Roman was pretty sure no one in the room knew what the heck they were saying.

Remus seemed to be on the defensive and Virgil seemed both skeptical and intrigued.

Roman felt a nudge. He looked beside him and saw that his friends were looking at him expectantly.

“What?” he whispered.

“What are they saying?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes as though that was obvious.

“I can’t read his mind. I need some more context and even then it’s an educated guest. Remus is trying to convince Virgil of something. Virgil is not impressed. That’s all I got,” he whispered back.

“Got on what?” Remus asked curiously. Roman glared at him, not willing to say anything if Virgil hadn’t.

“Oh, Roman and Virgil have a magic bond and they have this cool thing where they talk without talking now,” Patton summarized helpfully, glad that he wasn’t the topic anymore Roman assumed.

“Really?” Remus said intrigued.

“It was an accident,” Roman insisted. “When we found Virgil’s ashes I didn’t expect to be touching human remains, I panicked and tried a cleansing spell and then Virgil started to reform and my magic mixed with his and now here we are,” Roman insisted.

“It is probably for the best that it did happen though,” Logan pointed out. “We would likely not have been so quick to trust Virgil had it not been for Roman being so connected to Virgil’s emotions,” he pointed out.

“I might not have stuck around you guys for longer than necessary to grab some supplies and hand you a favor before getting home if I hadn’t felt your shock and worry. It alerted me that something was off and made me more cautious. Slowing down, as frustrating as it was at the time, probably was beneficial to preparing and planning the rescue mission,” Virgil admitted.

“Well, good that things turned out how they did,” the woman who’d initially opened the door for them said.

“My brother and his wife run the inn. They’ll have some space to spare and the resources to cook you a proper meal,” she offered.

“Thank you,” Virgil smiled before turning to Adam. “We’ll be on the move as soon as we have somewhere to go, but I’ll be back to catch up once things have settled,” he promised.

Adam nodded gratefully.

Logan offered their hostess the map. “The yellow circle is the area within which the high mage Janus should be found. This should help you in gathering relevant information,” he stated.

The woman nodded and then took them to a different building.

As they were guided outside, Roman gently touched Virgil's arm with his own to get his attention but not be noticed by someone else, specifically Remus.

Virgil glanced towards him, picking up on his attempt to be subtle.

Roman looked back at the house where the two elder men were watching them go to wave at them and then turned to Virgil curiously, already having his suspicions. Virgil smiled, fond accusation in his eyes. Roman turned away from him, embarrassed. Virgil subtly nudged him in comfort. Glanced back and showed his nostalgic affection for the young man Adam was when they knew one another. Then he looked at Roman, flooding him with the inferno of affection, completely consuming the embers of what remained of whatever once existed between him and Adam.

Roman felt a little silly for being jealous of an elderly person. But Virgil didn't seem to fault him for that.

"You weren't kidding. This is gonna be fun," Remus chuckled. Great. So he did catch on.

“Drop it Remus,” Virgil sighed.

“Aw come on V. You haven’t had a magic bond since school. It’s a little intriguing,” Remus shrugged.

“That you know off,” Virgil stated, making Remus gasp offended. “You bonded with someone other than me or J on purpose?” he asked. Virgil just smirked and walked on. Though Roman could tell he hadn’t just made that up to rile Remus up.

He wondered who he’d chosen to bond with.

"Jessica! Peter! Guests for Grandfather. They need rooms and a meal!" Their guide called out they entered the Inn. Behind the bar stood a young couple looking surprised at their arrival. Middle of the day was not exactly rush hour.

"We don't need to use the beds, and we only need the space for an hour," Virgil promised gently. His hood once again securely over his head. "And we got gold to pay," Remus added.

"Um. Well, the rooms are just cleaned out and I don't expect anyone till dinner. So uh... how many rooms?

"A single one if there is enough space for all of us to sit comfortably," Virgil offered. Tossing Remus a warning glance to which the high mage pouted.

Jessica nodded, grabbed a key, and led the way.

"Here you go. I'll have a stew and some bread ready when you get back," she offered as she opened the door for them and handed Virgil the key.

"Thank you," he bid before closing the door and turning to the group.

"Everyone knows the drill. Roman I want to try and see if I can teach you a few things about being a phoenix high Mage while resting. Are you okay with that?" Virgil asked.

Roman frowned, pretending to be confused for a moment before coming to a realization. "Like how you showed us your memory for clues," he guessed so no one would know there'd been a much more recent experience for Roman.

Virgil nodded though his emotions searched for confirmation. He wanted to know if Roman wanted it to be like last night or like the first time.

Roman pressed on with confidence, indicating his desire for them to be one again.

"Ooh first a magic bond, now sharing a dream? Virgil you always had favorites, but you're never so obvious about it," Remus teased.

"Shut it Remus," Virgil warned as he locked the door so they wouldn't be interrupted.

"I'm being serious!" Remus insisted, throwing an arm around Roman's shoulder. "Seriously, seriously though," he whispered in Roman's ear. "He is thick as a rock when it comes to guys liking him." Roman doubted that but Remus' ignorance seemed to be a source of amusement for Virgil so he didn’t correct him.

"But I'm pretty confident he likes you. So when you make your move, lay it on thick," he advised. Roman was taken aback. He hadn't expected to get Remus' approval. Not that he'd wanted it. Virgil's as the only approval that mattered.

Still. He appreciated the gesture, even if he was not going to admit that.

"Get of me," he huffed as he broke from his maybe great something uncle's grip. “I think I am currently a bit more aware of what he does and does not feel than you,” he pointed out dismissively before turning to Virgil.

"I'd love that. Thank you," he told Virgil. He could hear Remus sigh defeated. Thinking he'd failed to be a good guide for his 'nephew' probably.

"Alright. Come sit with me. We have an hour," Virgil reminded him. Roman nodded and joined Virgil, where he sat on the floor. They sat themselves back to back.

"Wanna cuddle?" Remus suggested to someone. Probably Patton. "No, thank you," Patton squeaked.

"Great, now there's four," Logan muttered. And then it went quiet, and Roman could focus.

He was five and looked up at his grandfather with big eyes. Under the wonder and excitement there was surprise that was not his own.

"Roman, my boy. I will tell you the tale of the birth of the marvelous town me, my father and your father grew up in," his grandfather said weightily. “It was my father’s first memory. They traveled through an icy storm to find a new home to live with his parents and everyone from their former village. A band of rogues with terrible magic means had ransacked their village, poisoned their lands.” Roman could vividly imagine it, though he hadn’t at the time. Those bands of rogue wizards specializing in weather magic, turning it against the kingdom to send everyone in disarray.

“And no aid was coming for them, so they packed up and tried their luck elsewhere.

They were forced to travel under terrible circumstances Roman, but they had to find shelter. So, they braved the storm,” grandfather said dramatically putting his grandchild on the edge of his seat. “And finally, the gods heard their prayers for mercy and the storm died down. Just as they found themselves in a valley near a forest, a river between them and predators, but not impossible for humans to cross so they could hunt for food in the forest. They stood a chance at survival.

But my father didn’t remember that day because of the storm or the miraculous appearance of the perfect valley to live in.” Grandfather leaned in closer. “Not even for the white-blue feline monsters that emerged from the forest, jumping over the river with ease, just as they had settled in.” Roman gasped in shock.

“No. He remember it for what happened right after his father covered his fear frozen body with his own. Through his embrace he saw a bird, black as night swoop in between them and the advancing monsters. They cowered away just as the majestic creature lit up in purple flames and turned into a man. With a mere gesture of his hand he sent the monsters back to the forest. He stood there a moment, light pouring from him and encircling what would become our town,” grandfather said. “And then he turned and knelt down to meet my father’s gaze. And you know what he told him Roman?” Roman shook his head, entirely enraptured.

“He told him that he’d sorted out the issues with the neighbors and that they should have pleasant weather for a long while. And they did. And we do. Only gentle snowfall and regular showers to water our crops, a rare late night thunderstorm to enjoy from the safety of our homes. It was, and still is, a magnificent place to live,” grandfather said wisely.

“I suppose that is a no to moving with us?” Roman’s father said from behind him. The memory shifted.

He was sat in his dorm room reading a bundle of poems.

"Roman," Logan's voice called. "Will you please put that down? This is important," he insisted.

"I'm not slacking," Roman insisted. "These are written before the plague and honor the great mages of that time. Uncensored " Roman pointed out.

"Really?" Patton gasped. Nervous and excited at the same time.

Logan was silent. Craving the hidden knowledge, but also well aware that if the Council knew about this book, they'd probably ban it. It had likely been overlooked due to it being poetry. They weren't supposed to learn anything about the magic of that time if it was not vetted and deemed safe by the arch mage...

"Listen to this," Roman said, encouraged by the fact that no one was stopping him. "The flame of night, endlessly bright upon the crowd. The sky had fallen, the stars were enraged, yet it did not phase the mage of night. And thus he tamed the blazing stars, docile the hellhound laid at his feet,” Roman cited gently.

“Wow… That’s kind of cool,” Patton breathed.

Logan hummed, not wanting to admit that he agreed.

“Too bad that such magics led to a plague,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but still… I wonder what it was like, to live like that. Not having to worry that you offended Her,” Roman mused.

They didn’t mention the goddess of magic out loud when they could help it. His friends knew which ‘Her’ he meant.

“We will likely never know…” Logan sighed, also not happy with having their magic so limited.

“In any case, I found something… Peculiar,” the diviner of their group stated, shifting topic.

“What’s that?” Roman asked.

“The arch mage. There is nothing to find about his death. Not the date, not the cause. Not even that he died. His death should have been a state affair. But there was no mention of it made ever. He just seems to, disappear,” he informed them.

“Wait… He might not be dead?” Patton asked confused. They’d all assumed he was dead. But Logan was right there should’ve been some sort of record for that. If there wasn’t then that meant…

“Who is searching for him?” Roman asked.

“I don’t know, but they aren’t successful, clearly,” he stated.

Roman grinned, he knew that glint in his friend’s eye. That was the same look he’d had when they made their pact to become mages.

“What do you say we offer some help?” Logan suggested.

“How?” Patton wondered.

“I have been doing some research, there is a ritual that can elevate us beyond ordinary mages. It is difficult and dangerous, as we have to connect with the very fabric of magic on a deeper level. Being rejected is extremely likely, and who knows what might happen if we are. But with ample preparation, I believe we might succeed,” he announced.

Roman looked to Patton and then to Logan. They were once again on the same page. They’d take on this challenge together.

Roman let go of his hold of the past and felt himself be gently pulled in another direction.

He was lying in a field under a starlit sky. Minding his breath. Stardust next to him. Staring up at the endless void of dark and light.

"What are you doing?"

His concentration broken, he glanced at the boy who'd managed to settle at his side without him noticing.

He looked back up to the stars. "I am trying to commune with Magic," he explained.

The young man gasped. "You can do that!?" he whispered incredulously.

"Sort off," he said. "It takes a lot of focus though," he explained.

"What are you saying to her?" His student wondered.

He was silent and looked at the 14 year old. He didn't need to know about his suspicions. "I asked for some guidance," he said simply.

That got him a long moment of silence.

"Why did she make you a phoenix and not a dragon?" The teenager asked suddenly.

"Because I'm not a dragon. I'd be a terrible king," he stated.

"You're a great teacher," the young man countered. He chuckled. "I'm alright, I suppose," he allowed. "I wouldn't give it up for the world," he mused. The young man nodded in understanding.

"Want to comune with me?" He offered. In answer his student laid down next to him.

He blinked and he was in a hallway looking at his student. Now a young adult. He was eying the doors nervously. It was a different room, a different building and a different city. But it had the same design and the same function as the one he’d entered for his ascension.

"You will be fine. I'll be here when you get back," he promised.

"Thank you," his pupil said. "For sneaking me in here," he added.

"No problem. I wish I'd gone behind everyone's back when I became a great mage. I hated the whole circus," he admitted, making a face. His student laughed. "Well, see you later," the young mage bid before walking in and closing the doors.

He took a deep breath and held out his hands, a little pouch with herbs on his wrist. He had prepared the room. Now, he just had to activate the bubble. The guide would break the circle when it was time.

A bright flash, a gust of wind blew the doors open, and he stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of a dragon in the smoke. Then he blinked, and it was all back to normal.

His protege standing in the center, shaking. He rushed forward and embraced him. "I've got you," he promised.

"Did you know?" The young man whimpered into his shoulder.

"I had suspicions. I didn’t want that burden to be put upon you any sooner than necessary. No one has to know until you are ready," he promised.

"But the people..." the future king protested.

"Are well looked after by all of us," he assured him. "You don't need to take the crown until you are ready," he swore.

He felt the embrace tighten.

And then he was in the forest in his phoenix form his student stood before him holding one of his feathers, focusing. And then there was a golden phoenix before him.

"Welcome to flying 101. Your first lesson in preparation of ascending," he announced.

His pupil shook his head disoriented. "The phoenix senses will take some getting used to. Now, shall we?" It took a few tries and some encouragement in the face of defeat, but they took to the sky and the future king was having the time of his life. As they flew all around the lands that would someday become their kingdom, he explained becoming a high mage to him.

"You will no longer be looking up at the stars but feel like you are part of them. Like they are old friends. Magic will bend for you more easily. Like you know it's language. Basically, the same changes after becoming a mage and a great mage. But more extreme. You won't notice right away. Only when using spells at first.

As if you subconsciously give yourself more time to process. It's a lot. But once you get comfortable in your new body, magic will be as natural as breathing." he explained.

"How do I ascend?"

"When you are ready, you focus like you did when you first connected, and this time, you let it consume you. You will not disappear. You will be one with magic. When you are ready to accept that, it will happen as it should."

They flew in silence. "You will be there, right?"

"Until you send me away," he promised. He angled his body to gain altitude above a forest and then he dove down again. Heading straight for a castle. A new castle. One that would survive several centuries of both peace and war. But now it was shiny and new, only a decade old, built as crown jewel of the chosen capitol.

He landed in the courtyard, human once more. His student stood before him, surrounded by curious, confused, mages.

“Do you have it?” the younger mage said nervously.

“All taken care off,” he promised with a bow of his head. “You’ll do great,” he promised before walking back to give the soon to be high mage his space.

The young almost king took a deep breath and in a blaze, spread his wings and took to the sky. Growing bigger and bigger until a fully grown, golden dragon flew loops around the castle, letting out a mighty roar and flying off.

Virgil smirked proudly and conjured a table on which he laid out the newly made golden crown and the ten swords that had left the fire only that morning, enchanted and made ready for their pledge an hour ago.

When the king came back from marking his territory, he would be crowned and nine mages would be chosen as his advisors and confidants. Together the ten of them would reflect the ten main gods. Remus would often be jokingly referred to as the unofficial eleventh representative of eclipse, only showing up when it pleased him.

He looked up and blinked against the sun.

And then he was standing in front of the inn earlier today looking at Roman slowly transforming, before his eyes. His hair growing longer his skin changing color and then suddenly he was blinding to look at, for a moment he thought he saw wings and half expected to see a Pegasus appear. But no. When he could see him again he was a gorgeous white horse with golden eyes, though he could swear there were some red and purple hues in his manes when he moved his head and the light hit it just right.

He blinked and he was flying through the temple. To his horror he saw Roman taunt Remus into attacking him. For a terrifying moment he thought he was watching one of his closest friends torch a man he’d come to care deeply for in a dazzling short amount of time.

But the yellow and green flames Remus produced turned golden and red and even a little purple as they bend around Roman as though protecting, no embracing him.

Roman started glowing himself becoming one with the flames, making it just one whirling storm of fire.

And then it became a silhouette of a phoenix, bursting from the wave of flames with grace and regal purpose. It actually intimidated the chimera for a moment. Then the fire phoenix closed its wings and shrank down, leaving behind a faintly glowing Roman. Who still stood his ground like nothing had happened.

That idiot.

“Hey! Love birds! Wake up!”

[sleepysuburb]

Top 5 Steve/Reece character designs? (Hopefully this hasn't already been asked lol? ^_^

it hasn't!! character design is one of my main passions so this is an ideal question 👀 I really went balls to the wall for this one so it's under a readmore!! sorry for the chunks of text!

REECE

1. Stu. I'm so obsessed with Stu's design choices; the way he's clearly meant to look a little "too old" (not my opinion! I think he looks gorgeous) for his fashion sense, with his little tummy and his loud shirt, his tight jeans and very 90s auburn-blonde hair, his pink lip gloss (!!!!!!)... he's comfortable in himself and knows what works for him, so why change it as he gets older?

Conversely, the loud way he dresses is put into stark contrast with Carl's more age-appropriate, sensible dress and neat haircut, which gives him just one more reason to be at odds with him. He's visibly gay and camp with it, while Carl's repression is mirrored by his straightlaced design - I always see this canyon between their respective expressions and what it represents as a big source of bitterness, embarrassment and envy in their relationship, going both ways.

2. Stella. Oh Stella the riot grrrl you are... the choker, the lace tights, the leather pinafore over black mesh; it's all so babes in toyland/hole etc. Her hair is so quintessentially 90s, but specifically its a style and colour combo often worn by rebellious, troublesome, outcast women in media; to me, her design embodies this yearning for excitement outside of her marriage and a resistance to 'settling down', especially with Charlie. also she's hot. who said that

3. Mr Jelly. Never has a washed up clown looked so... washed up. I love the way his makeup is clearly slept in and not touched up for days/weeks/months at a time, cracking around his persistent frown lines and pilling around his eye bags, and how his hair is badly combed over his bald cap like he's actually trying to hide a severely receding hairline. He looks like the sort of grimy, scary horror clown you wouldn't want around your kids, only to subverse that somewhat - he's not cruel or creepy really, just a sad, disenfranchised man whose career was stolen by medical malpractice and intellectual theft. and his hook!! what a great tool for clowning-based mishaps.

4. Brian Macmillan. I'm predictable. but LOOK at him. we never really see him without at least an element of the dame - sometimes he's in full costume, sometimes half dressed in a bra and girdle with his makeup partway done, and sometimes looking totally regular, but wearing that scoop neck polka dot blouse we're all obsessed with. Despite the dame typically being a comic, matronly character he brings this glamorous drag queen flair to the role and, with his angular glasses, a sense of sharp, cruel intelligence that reminds me of the big bad wolf, with his permanent sneer and the way he prowls around the theatre lording himself over everyone... he feels like he should have fangs all the better to eat you with. also he's hot. who said that

5. Neville Griffin. my gf will kill me for this one because they hate the way he looks, and I get it - his design, even in isolation to his rotten personality, does a great job of making you hate him. He starts off as this lank, greasy, ungroomed-looking young man with casual, ill-fitting clothes; he's ill at ease in himself at this point, hasn't figured his career out, let alone his image. not even enough to make himself presentable. You almost (almost) feel sorry for him. and then cut to him further along in his career - he's arrogant and obnoxious, with his turtleneck and flash suits, his gold jewellery, all of it screaming that he knows he's better than you and he feels untouchable. somehow he still looks greasy, but this time like he doesn't care about other people enough to be fucked showering properly, you know? and always, always in the background, those awful posters of him with his big, bared-teeth grin. also he's h

STEVE

1. Herr Lipp. everything about Herr Lipp is just so unsettling and creepy. his suits are that uncomfortably 70s-sleaze combo of brown tweed, yellow, orange and green that so many people instantly associate with pervy old men. he always looks so wet, like mystery wet all the time, glistening upper lip and shiny forehead, his eyes all bloodshot and damp-looking due to the - I'm guessing some kind of tape or glue? - Steve has in his undereye crease, his hair slicked to the side... it's like he's always exterting himself or sweating guiltily because he knows he's doing something really wrong. that just ramps up when he's trying to get Justin to stay, and the way his appearance maniacally degrades through that sequence is genuinely the stuff of nightmares.

2. Pauline. the human embodiment of a 90s M&S workwear catalogue. she looks like if a generic office job grew legs and developed a seething hatred for everyone below it, and at first, that's kind of what she is. I love the motif of sharpness and orderly lines in her design, from her 'horned' hairstyle to her straight pencil skirt to her angular specs. it's all set off by her lurid pink lipstick, that betrays the real harsh interior lying beneath her neat, jobsworth exterior. in s3 her design becomes notably less put-together and more masculine, as if to try and offset her new vulnerability; her hair is cropped short and her clothing more masc-leaning, tending more business-casual than just business. she doesn't have her job to cling onto anymore, and it shows - but I also love that they went headfirst into making her more visibly queer. also sh

3. Ed Buchan. he's smart, anyone could tell that, what with the way he dresses like an academic - but despite that his clothing is so at odds with what's 'normal'. he looks old-fashioned and out of touch with his patterned jumper vests and his glasses with their chain, especially next to all the police in their sleek, no-nonsense suits. He's automatically an outcast and othered from them all. he has this sweet soft face and the look of a puppy vying for approval, while the others appear hardened and jaded; and they (mostly) are, while he remains gentle even after being kidnapped. also

4. Jed Hunter. he's so clearly influenced by real casting directors the league must've met. there's a slight southern inflection to his speech and since we see him in London in s3 I'm going to assume he's from there - his design, with the mullet situation, designer stubble, sleek clothes and smooth mannerisms, screams well-off, gentrified londoner. he's out of place in Royston vasey, but equally his pretentious brand of normalcy is strange in its own right. he's a caricature of 'cool'.

5. David Sowerbutts. David's design is almost cartoonish, which isn't a surprise considering his concept art was drawn by Reece and was cartoony and exaggerated from the off. he puts me in mind of a little boy in a propeller hat, but if that boy was a grown man and the propellor hat was an appalling bowlcut. all his changeable features, his terrible kitchen-scissor half-shaved haircut, his chunky utilitarian glasses and his simple, dull clothes are minimal maintenence things, making it clear Maureen does everything for him and does it in the most no-frills way. the fake teeth are excellent because they extend his lower jaw and force him to keep his mouth open a bit, making him look more vacant, but on top of it all you have these furrowed brows and intimidating stare that let you know he's capable of more than he lets on.

[harukamitsuki]

Why Izuku's motivation in fighting Muscular can be seen that way? It's because of the reasons I listed.

He didn't have to fight him. He could have grabbed Kouta and ran away, especially since Muscular isn't as fast as Izuku's Full Cowl, and the fact that Aizawa was on the camp, who could easily make Muscular's quirk ineffective, making him significantly easier to beat.

Obviously, he still mainly wanted to fight to save Kouta, but it feels strange that retreating, even if just to get more hands on deck, didn't come to him as this came after the Hosu arc. His first thought there was to grab Tenya and run, but when he saw Native, he sent a request for help.

By that point, Izuku was shown to know that engaging in a life-or-death battle alone was foolish. His first choice was to retreat, and the choice he ended up making was stall for time until back-up arrived. He didn't plan on beating Stain with Tenya and Shouto.

Rather than being a favourite fight of mine, it felt more... detrimental. A sign that MHA was on a decline. Because such a fight, with those drastic results, should have been conveyed as empowering.

With Stain, the end of the fight was relieving, as they managed to survive. Keyword: managed. None of them were should have been able to survive an encounter with him, but they did. That is what made it so relieving.

A bit of an odd comparison, but it's sort of like 'Let It Go' from Frozen. It's not a moment or scene that should be seen as great, but it is. Elsa in that moment is isolating herself from everyone, and isolation is a horrible thing to admire.

Izuku has mutilated himself in order to save Kouta. That is horrifying, at least to me. It pushes this idea that heroes are obliged to sacrifice everything in order to save someone, or at least that Izuku is ready to destroy himself for someone, and it's not a good message.

It's inspiring to see a hero or anyone push against the odds and emerge victorious in a fight that seemed so against them, but not to that degree.

Izuku nearly lost functionality in his arms, just to beat one villain, and it didn't feel like he was trapped either. I could understand if he had no other choice, but he did. And if he went to ask for help, it would in turn help this theme of, 'alone we are weak but together we are strong'.

I love Power of Friendship - Fairy Tail was one of my first anime and it still holds a dear place in my heart, so there's no judgement in the Power of Friendship move.

Heck, you could argue that Fullmetal Alchemist, known to be one of the greatest series of all time, had a power of friendship moment with everyone talking Roy down, and Ed finishing off Father.

Now, when it comes to the events you listed, with Overhaul, I agree. It couldn't have happened without everyone turning they keys at the right moments. The arc wouldn't be nearly as powerful without everyone moving the pieces, Mirio, Tamaki, Eijirou, Nighteye...

But, it still stands that Izuku faced Overhaul alone. Even in Fairy Tail, when Natsu faced off against Hades, his team were right by him. Against Acnologia, the other Slayers fought with him too.

In MHA, it was cool to see them 'pass the torch' in fight, like All Might passed the torch to Izuku, but it would have worked a lot better if everyone all at once were fighting him.

We could still get Izuku making the last move, maybe everyone gets knocked down and Izuku is the only free, or Eri's powers going out of control and Izuku is the only one who can do consistent damage to his body to prevent her quirk from affecting him.

In that case, Izuku making the final hit or combo would work to great affect, and push the idea of everyone working together as one even more.

It would also serve to highlight how hero society was weak due to All Might being the singular pillar. The 'Atlas' of sorts. However, everyone working together would hint at the idea of having multiple pillars to hold it afloat. Instead of a single person holding the world on their back, everyone is.

I mean, if you like the fight: go ahead. I'm not going to stop you. Most of this is my personal feelings, and I post this sort of content as a form of venting, rather than trying to change anybody's mind.

Rather than disliking or hating MHA, it's more like I'm disappointed with it. But, if you and others adore it and every aspect, I won't try to stop you.

In the end, anime, manga, movies, comics, games... They're all pieces of art, and art is ultimately subjective. How people percieve art and the enjoyment they get from it is personal.

Uhhh that's all. Peace ✌️

MHA Volume 33...not going to enjoy most of this I bet

Why does Bakugou get to have an opinion about Izuku? Many of Izuku's issues are Bakugou's fault! Society as a whole bears some responsibility but for real...Bakugou was the on-site bully...and not only toawrds Izuku.

Also...trying to bring Izuku in by attacking him? Way to make him feel "loved". Maybe it's not the "right" call for him to be a loner, but it's Izuku's choice.

Plus this whol series has been a confusing mass of "don't rely on others" and "rely on others" with Izuku forever being the one punished for not picking right each time.

[lazulisong]

All right, two things: I updated the kofi to use it for blogging about sewing and original projects.

Also, I woke up at seven am this morning scrabbling for paper because I had a poem for the first time in uhhhhhhh lets not talk about it, and I have posted it on the ko-fi -- on public, no worries -- because it's about being a lone twin and this is a subtle hint that I need emotional support pastry.

I cried while I was writing it, I cried while I revised it, and I cried AT THE LIBRARY (had a hold at Central) while I was transcribing it. I despise crying. It was very good for me and I don't want to do it again.

[civetcider]

While gender-nonconformity-club (this post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/gender-nonconformity-club/746406850785869824) doesn't outright say she's a transmisogynist, she reblogs from TERFs and gendercrits. I really wish TME people were better at spotting crap like this. Do better next time, please.

this is so condescending what the hell come off anon

you yourself say she doesn't say it out right and only reblogs stuff from other poeple :((( what do you expect from me :(((((( you want me to not only look through the blogs of every post i reblog but also all the blogs that person reblogs??? :((((((((( there are so many levels of separation here :(((((( i dont even follow them or anything i don't know anything about this person :(((((((( you want me to google everyone i reblog from to check to make sure they are good people?

[faaun]

pls i need to provide updates